LUCKY EUNUCHS

Long back I had been to Bombay. I should have been about 35 years old then. As my auto from the railway station stopped at a signal, I saw a Eunuch standing at the pavement. It was 2 PM and the heat was sweltering. Even in such hot weather, she made a style statement. Dressed in a glittering blue sequins saree, with matching ear rings, necklace, bangles and rings, she had adorned her hair with fresh seasonal flowers.
She was more feminine than most females. I wondered what drove these people to dress in female attire with such commitment.
The next time I came across a group of 5 eunuchs who boarded a train, and collected money from all passengers, by clapping hands. I was with my family and jovially commented to my wife who is yet to find the perfect tailor for her blouses: "These girls are wearing excellent blouses. Why don't you ask them who their tailor is?'
Once I had gone to a hotel to look up a conference hall, for a training program. When I went to check on the hall, a Eunuch  conference was going on there. As I got into the lift to come to the lobby, I noticed an extremely pretty girl in the elevator.
Glamorous in a plain sunset yellow saree, maroon lipstick on cute lips, bindi and sindoor on the forehead, she shot me a glance with the corner of her doe eyes, smeared with black kaajal.  She smiled and just as my testosterone levels were rising, said to the lift operator, " 2nd floor please, " in a voice as manly and gravelly as Amitabh Bachan. OMG I realized , it is a He.
Once again during a train travel, this time alone, one more Eunuch boarded the  train, and was touching the men to extract money from them. The idea that I might be touched was repulsive, and I cringed near the window, far from her reach. She approached our berth, and did not even bother to look at an elderly person like me, as there was a very handsome, young man next to me. He was brave and no amount of effort by the Eunuch to seduce him off his money worked. She shot him a spiteful look, and left.
An elderly passenger opposite me commented,  " Even Eunuchs prefer young men."
I laughed out loud. I was happy I was not young.
Years later, as I was travelling to home by bus, I saw a Eunuch seated in men's seat and was happily talking to her friend over the cell for almost an hour, as  the bus slowly inched its way in the evening traffic.  Then, I understood, they too were pretty much the same, like all of us. Only they were luckier. No school, no office, no exams, no boss. Free birds. And they are now willing to trade it all to come into the main stream.So sad.  

SECOND INNINGS

When children grow up the physical and mental developments are marked by milestones. When we as parents see this we are happy. When my son was about six months old, my wife was carrying him in her arms. I stretched my arm towards him and said, “ Come come to daddy.”  He immediately inclined himself forward to come to me. I held him and carried him in my arms. This was the first time I had seen my child understand a communication and react properly.

This was the first milestone which I noticed and really enjoyed. This was besides, turning over in the bed, and swimming and crawling on the floor.   

Then later one evening we were all sitting outside our home and since it  was becoming dark we came in. my son started crying. We did not know why. We had locked the door as we came in. when we lowered him to the floor, he crawled all the way to the door and started tapping the door with his tiny hands and continued crying. He meant that he wanted to be outside for some more time. We were surprised as to how effectively the child could tell us what it wanted. We sat out side for some more time.

One day one of my friends came home and we gave him some fruit juice to drink. The moment my son saw this he started to climb all over the guest chasing the drink.

As he grew up we put him in school in the pre-kg. One day as I was going through some printed book, he came and sat next to me. He started reading the alphabets. He read, T…H…R…E…E…. Then it dawned on him that this was a word he knew. With great excitement he said, “Dad it is three.”  

The next word was also read, by him. He read slowly, V……….I……..T……….A…….L

 He pronounced it as vital, I corrected him. I told him that it was vai-tal. He said the word properly and then asked me, “what is the meaning of vital?” This was the first time he wanted to know the meaning of a word. Another  milestone.

Later when he  was in 10^th standard, he wanted to   make volleyball his career.

I counseled him, telling him that the chances of making it big in sports was rare. I encouraged him to study well, as it was a time tested method of regular income and play volley ball with happiness of a hobby.

He understood the logic, and did well both in academics and sports.

This was a milestone in logic and maturity.

He graduated in studies and got a job and for the first time, left Chennai and went to Mumbai for his career.

When we saw him off at the airport and were returning home in a cab, every teenager who came before our cab looked like our son. I told with my eyes full of tears to my wife that all the boys look like him. She nodded as she was already crying.

I have in my memory all the wonderful moments which I son gave me as he grew up from an infant to a man. Each stage of children’s life is wonderful. They give us so much pleasure, just by being with us.

When my son was born I got a small wall hanger, with the following words.

A child will make nights longer and the days shorter

A child will make clothes shabbier and pay - packets emptier.

A child will make the past forgotten and the future worth living.

How true. A child makes us live our own childhood a second time.

RESPONSIBILITY AND RESTRAIN

Last year in the month of November, one of my young relatives met with an accident. He is in the last year of his engineering course. Just before his final exams were to begin this accident took place. He was returning home from college, with his friends on bikes.

Two were riding before him, and one was following him.

No one was able to recall, what exactly happened. This boy skidded on coarse dusty gravel on the road and fell down, with the bike on his left.

As the bike fell down he managed to shift on his right side, and for maintaining balance sat on the road. As he was about to get up, a car which right behind him slammed on the brakes, but not before the bumper guard gently tapped his ribs. Three of his left side ribs were fractured.  The friend who was following him, put him in an auto, and admitted him in the nearest private hospital.

His friends call his parents, who rushed to the hospital. I joined a few hours later. The    X -rays, and scan reports showed that no other part of the body was damaged, except the ribs.

The boy was admitted into the ICU and the doctors inserted a tube in his left chest to drain out the fluids to facilitate breathing.

After 2 days he was shifted to a private room.

He was in the hospital for 14 days and then discharged. The bill was around 1.5 lakhs Rupees, which was settled by the medical insurance.

During these 14 days the schedule of all the close relatives, went for a toss. I stayed during the nights in the hospital, and my wife stayed with the boy’s mother [who was her younger sister], in their house.

His parents, uncle, aunties, grand-parents, took turns in taking care of him.

He then was in bed rest for almost 2 months before he could venture out.

While the incident once again reiterated the importance of relations, the coming togetherness, the co-operation, the affection and love, it also disclosed the price of carelessness.

The tensions and worry of the parents, their helplessness in times of stress, the daily routine that was displaced by chaos was needless, and could have been steered clear of.

One moment of sloppiness, put so many people into unwanted strain.

The boy had could not attend his exams. He has lost a valuable 6 months in finishing his studies. He could not lie down on his left side for 2 months, and had to lie flat on his back. The recovery was slow and not comfortable. Today he is back to normal, but only after 4 months of unnecessary suffering.

When a relative meets with an accident, the entire life routine, finances, and emotions all are thrown into uncertainty and disarray.  

All of which can be avoided with a small sense of responsibility and restrain.

MOTHER

My mother is a very brave person, very gutsy and is living life on her own terms. She has become blind, but that has not prevented her from compromising on anything in life. She  is demanding, likes her own space, and is sharp as ever, even at old age. Today is her 85^th birthday.

She is a person whom I admire, and I have been her fan right from my childhood.

I was artistic from my formative years and started to draw so early that I do not remember when I began to do my first scribbling.

When I was 6years I drew the picture of the Hindu Goddess of wealth,  “Lakshmi.” I drew it in color pencil. The Goddess was seated on a lotus. But I could not draw her hair properly. When I asked my mother for help, she suggested to me, and I could draw the hair well. When it was over, I showed the drawing to her. Immediately she said, “ It has come out very well. It looks beautiful.” Then she put some gum on the back of the drawing and stuck it inside the wardrobe where we kept money.  She said, “Let the drawing be here, so that it brings us wealth.”

That is the encouragement I still remember, and recall with a smile.

Once when she was sorting our old magazines, to be sold to the waste paper man, who collected old materials by the weight, and paid money for it. I was just 5 years then and I was seeing the picture in the magazines. While I was turning the pages, I came across a   5 Rs. note. I showed it her. She pinched my cheeks and said, ”Thank you, I will get you a shorts for this cash. “

Next day she got me a twinkle material shorts. It was about 6 PM in the evening. She made me stand on a chair and made me wear the shorts. It was crimson-ish orange  in color and it shone in the evening light. I loved the color and the day is still fresh in my memory.

Today when I asked her what she wanted, for her birthday, without hesitation she said, “ Gulab Jamuns, “ a traditional Indian sweet.

She is always very sure about what she wants, and clear about what she does not want. She is a person of zero confusion. She is practical, and a no non-sense person.

I have learnt to be forthright, clear in thinking and frank after her.

So,this evening I will meet her with her Birthday present , and I hope it brings a lot of sweetness in her sun set years.    

SMOKER’S SONG

Everyday I take the bus to my office from the same stop. It is around 8.45 in the morning. In the bus stop while I wait for the bus to come, I get entertained by an old man. He is blind and plays a lively tune on his flute. Not very good in his music but somehow he manages to get a decent tune from his flute. In spite of his age and disability, he is there each day and plays predictable music.

I admire this person who is in his 60^th year and does not beg for a living.

He has a head full of white abundant hair, wears a dirty white shirt and a soiled khaki pants.

Each day I put some money in his collection bowl, for his dignity and music. Then my bus comes and I scurry into it and leave behind the man and his music.

Today like any other day, I found the man seated on the pavement.

He dug his hand into a bag and I thought that he is going to pull out his flute.

But he fished out a filter cigarette. As I watched him he differentiated the tobacco end from the filter end by the touch of his fingers and carefully put the filtered end between his lips. He pulled out a match box from his shirt pocket. I was watching with interest and wondered how he would light his cigarette. He pulled out a match stick, and felt for the head of the match, and got both the stick and the box very close to his cigarette. He struck the stick against the match strip and as it caught fire he immediately got it close to the cigarette, and inhaled as it smoldered with fire.

He relaxed and inhaled deeply and enjoyed the smoke calmly.

As the cigarette burnt down to the end he expertly squashed it under his footwear. Now he was ready to work. Then he pulled out the flute from his bag and played a peppy tune.

Rich or poor, each is entitled to their habits and happiness.

I used to think that beggars are always hungry and do not get to enjoy life. I was wrong. Wealthy or otherwise the attitude defines your happiness quotient.

We should grab our chances of mini happiness, before our life goes up in smoke.     

FINALLY VISIBLE

I am of normal height and weight. Not small made, nor lean. I am not handsome, but reasonably good looking. But if I before someone in a crowd I will never get noticed. There is something invisible about my presence. I have always wondered, why people do not notice me. Sometimes I talk loud and clear, and even wear bright colored shirts, so that I get noticed. 

This setback is particularly irritating when I travel in the public transport bus. Once I board a bus, there will be other passengers who have got in at the same stop as I. All of us would crowd the bus conductor to get our travel tickets. Other passengers, would be ordinary people who are wearing dirty clothes and maybe are even from the poorer section of the society. The conductor will notice a person standing on my right, and issue him a ticket. He will then turn to another person on my left and issue him a ticket. Then he will look over my shoulder and issue a ticket to him. Then I will hope that it will be my turn. But no, he will  turn his back to me and issue tickets to every other person in the bus except me. All the time I will be having the correct change and will be repeating my stop name to the deaf conductor at least 10 times. I have tried many strategies but none of them were of any avail.

But after 58 years of being invisible today the most awaited event happened. Today as I got into the bus along with 6 other passengers, the conductor first saw me and took the change from my hand and gave me the ticket to my destination. I felt  really great and happy. Finally I had arrived. I was so happy that I wanted to share this milestone in my life with you  all.   I hope tomorrow is not a let down.

These are small almost meaningless desires in us. But still even when a small unfulfilled desire gets gratified the happiness lingers for the entire day. This incident is one such.  

WHERE HAS LOVE GONE?

This is the story of my friend. He is much younger than I . He fell in love, like everyone else in his late 20s.His girlfriend was an amazing personality. She could have you laughing in splits within no time. Her sense of humor was a class apart. My friend too was a very good person. Caring and ambitious, loving and kind.

They were in love for 4 years. He was hesitant to open up the topic to his conservative parents. One day he mustered enough courage to announce his love to his parents. Hell broke lose. There was drama, followed by melodrama. In the trauma that followed he remained steady, and unwavering. Finally his parents came to terms with his decision.

They delivered a child within a year of marriage.

They were living with his parents. She wanted their own space. He refused, as he felt that his aged parents were good helpful and deserved to be with them. She refused to buy that. They were arguments, fights and a total change of attitudes. All laughter went out of their lives.

Love was replaced with ego adamancy and intentional emotional cruelty.

They realized that staying together as a couple would not work, whether with or without parents. 

Now they are separate and waiting to go to the court to seek a divorce.

All within 6 years of courtship.

The institution of marriage is very demanding. Couples take each other for granted and have very little sensitivity to each others needs.

Most marriages are not successful. But we can do our level best to stop it from becoming a complete failure.

One in a thousand marriage work by itself. The remaining 999 marriages have to be made to work.

Does any arrangement bring only happiness? The answer is NO. Marriage is an arrangement, made by the society, and it cannot rise to the demands of a lifetime relationship. All of us spend our lifetime with someone, we feel, we hardly ever know.   

And the nagging doubt always remains. In the list of priorities of your partner, where are you? Are you in the first or last or in-between , or not at all present?

Our school and college syllabus teaches us many subjects, but it does not prepare us emotionally for life. There is never a subject in the curriculum called inter personal skills.

If someone could teach us early in life, the art of getting along, then there would be no need for such estrangements             

ABC

When my son was young, both of us used to play around a lot. He was very well behaved, and basically a happy child. I was fun loving. So we could get along very well with each other. We had fun and even though we lived a very frugal life, there was no dearth of happiness.   

Many a times, when my child used to ask for things, I had to refuse buying them as there was not enough money to get it.  

My son had just joined school, and was learning the ABCs. He was studious by nature and could pick up the lessons easily.

He would sing the rhymes and tell me the lessons he had learnt and I used to tape them. I still have those tapes, and the sweet voice of the child is still capable of bringing a smile on my face each time I hear them.

My son was logical even when he was a child, and I could convince him about our affordability of things. He used to be convinced and patiently wait for months before I could have enough money to get him what he wanted. He never complained about the period of waiting.   

But one day, he was irritated about some minor issue and I had to raise my voice to get him to behave. Losing my cool, is something I rarely do and I was feeling sorry for the poor child.

I wanted to apologize and told him, “Sorry my dear. Do not be angry with dad. I will get you some chocolates. “

My child was still angry with me. He said, “ No need, I will get them myself.”  

This was getting to be interesting.

I asked him, with a smile “Tell me, how do you plan to get the chocolates by yourself?”

He replied in all seriousness, “ I will study ABC, grow up and get the chocolates by myself.” Without his knowledge, he was very emphatic about the important role education had to play in buying material things.

I was happy, that the message had sunk into him, that, education and purchasing power go hand in hand. 

Today he is well educated, and is working.

So, when he gave me his first treat, with his first salary, I asked him jovially, “ So you have studied your ABC and are giving me your first treat?

He smiled, his eyes lighting up with memory of the childhood incident, and said, “ Yes, what chocolate do you want to have?”

THREE MIRACLES

There are times in our life, which leave an everlasting impression on us.

If I were to recall those times in my life, I had tasted the most perfectly prepared sweets, I could easily pin point three occasions.

The first was in 1975. It was my second sister’s marriage. The entire house was agog with excitement. Relatives had come in advance to our house and endless preparations were on to make the wedding a memorable one.

Those days we did not have marriage contractors. We had to do everything ourselves, from sourcing of materials, to management and execution.

We had arranged for a cook. His name was Natarajan. He was supposed to be very good in his trade.

We decided to make Mysore Pak for sweets.

Natarajan asked for Besan flour , sugar, ghee and proceeded to make the sweet.

He had a large kadai, lit a flame and within minutes made delicious Mysore pak. 

Mysore pak is supposed to have a hard surface, but it should crumble on biting. It should have a lot of natural holes in it, which is a part of the making process.

Once in the mouth it should disintegrate, with the flavor of ghee and spread the sweetness of sugar evenly on the tongue.

When you eat the perfect Mysore pak, you will not talk, your eyes will close in the bliss of the taste.

This mysore pak was perfect. In texture, taste and flavor.

Till date I am yet to taste a mysore pak as divine as the one I had eaten 38 years back.

The next miracle happened in my marriage in 1982.

The cook had made a sweet called badusha. Basusha is a challenging sweet. It has to have, just the right amount of sweetness [ not too sweet nor too bland], has to have layers, and should be soft and  crispy  enough to sink your teeth in, but should not be soggy. It is a difficult and challenging sweet, which most of the times is a let down.

But this time the Badushas were perfect and scored a 10 out of 10. It well perfectly oblique, with a small dent on either sides and  had a typical ring which were in twirls, just like one of the rings of the Saturn planet. It was also covered with sugar syrup which had dried and formed uneven crust on the surface. Perfect to see. And divine to eat. The Badushas were so soft with the lingering taste of sugar. They were simply yummy. 

Later I had many Badushas in my life but none came close to the wonder which I had in my marriage.

The third miracle sweet came last week on April 14^th . My colleague, of my previous firm, came home to visit me. The day before on 13^th ,  she had prepared Laddus in her house. She had been preparing Laddus, recently  many a times, and with each episode her Laddus had become better in taste. 

Laddus are made up of small beads of fried flour, soaked in sugar syrup, and rolled into small balls, with just one cashew, one raisin and one clove embedded in each of the Laddus. They are yellow in color. The beads should be soft, but firm and should cling to each other and maintain the shape of a ball and not fall apart. For if they are pressed too hard then the Laddus will be hard. Just the right amount of pressure is needed, so that they easily break into 2 halves, if you want to share it with some one.

Good laddus are easy to come buy, and I have had my share of good tasty Laddus.

But this batch was simply perfect. Delicious, mouth watering and a delight to savor. I refrigerated them and ate half a Laddu each night for desert, sharing the other half with my better half. I did not want the Laddus to be over. We stretched the  deserts for a week, and with great relish and greater regrets I ate the last of the wonderful thoughtful gift.

Never had I enjoyed Laddus so well in my life. Thanks to my colleague.

Good food is something we take for granted. But good sweets are the crowning glory for people with a sweet tooth.

Especially for me, born and brought up in Bengal, where no meal is complete without sweets. I relish ,savor , remember with fondness and nostalgia, all the times where I had been lucky to eat the perfect sweet. So far it has been just three times in a life spanning 58 years.  Well there are tomorrows, and who knows which perfect sweet waits for me in the future? 

MYSORE PAK

LADDOOS 

  

BADUSHAS

Barathiyaar's poem

I  like millions of fans,am so impressed with the spontaneous flow, of  the free thinker and poet Barathiyaar. I have tried my level best not to miss the soul of expression. I hope you guys like it too. 

தேடிச் சோறுநிதந் தின்று - Thedi choru nitham

தேடிச் சோறுநிதந் தின்று - பல
சின்னஞ் சிறுகதைகள் பேசி - மனம்
வாடித் துன்பமிக உழன்று - பிறர்
வாடப் பலசெயல்கள் செய்து - நரை
கூடிக் கிழப்பருவ மெய்தி - கொடுங்
கூற்றுக் கிரையெனப்பின் மாயும் - பல
வேடிக்கை மனிதரைப் போலே - நான்
வீழ்வே னென்று நினைத் தாயோ?நின்னைச் சிலவரங்கள் கேட்பேன் - அவை
நேரே இன்றெனக்குத் தருவாய் - என்றன்
முன்னைத் தீயவினைப் பயன்கள் - இன்னும்
மூளா தழிந்திடுதல் வேண்டும் - இனி
என்னைப் புதியவுயி ராக்கி - எனக்
கேதுங் கவலையறச் செய்து - மதி
தன்னை மிகத்தெளிவு செய்து - என்றும்
சந்தோஷங் கொண்டிருக்கச் செய்வாய்...

Ever in search of a meal

Always engaged in small talk

Forever worrying, engulfed in sadness

Busy in activities that hurt others

Growing older by the minute

Enfeebled by disease

And finally dying

Is the fate of thoughtless unproductive mankind.

God, do you think, that I too would follow their footsteps to ruin?

My Master I ask of you few boons.

Grant me these now without further delay.

Banish the effects of my previous bad deeds so that they never seek expressions.

Please, give me a new lease of life.

Please do not push me again into worries

Please clear my anguishes and make me wise

So that I exist in eternal bliss   

OT ego

The other day my neighbor, Chandar, slipped down the stairs, and landed on his elbow. There was a deep cut and some bleeding. 

Since I am a trainer for the medical representatives, he came to me to show his wound. I inspected it and felt that the wound needed some stitches to heal quickly.

So both of went to the nearest orthopedic doctor. He had a X-ray taken to rule out minor fractures. There was none. So it was time to go to the minor OT. I got a TT and diclofenac injections. TT was to rule out tetanus and diclofenac was to bring down to swelling and pain.

Diclofenac , itself causes pain in the area wherein it is injected, not because of the needle but because it is the quality of the drug.

In the minor OT, the technician,  Udaya, had Chandar lower his shorts and lie face down on the table.

I was telling Chandar, that the injection would pain. This statement irritated Udaya, who felt I was insulting his talent. He argued with me telling me that it was not the injection, but the technique used in injecting which would make it painful or painless. To prove a point he told Chandar, “ sir now I will inject you on each hip, one by one. You tell me which is more painful. “ He then proceeded to injected each hip with the respective medicine.

Chandar was in a fix. Because Udaya was yet to stitch his elbow and Udaya’s help would be needed to remove the stitches 10 days later. Chandar did not want to offend him.  Very diplomatically he said that he could not feel any difference between one prick and the other.  

Udaya looked at me triumphantly, and gave me a look that said, “ so who do you think you are? Smart guy!!!”

This event left me stunned. Here I was, who just made a harmless statement, which affected the  ego of a technician, who wanted to prove his superiority over me.

Funny , but point is to be noted.

We are all creatures of emotions. We are creatures driven by our egos. We have to be right, no matter what, have our way every time, whatever the consequence, and prove to everyone that we are great.

Even if it is momentary and fleeting the ego is always ready to brandish its sword and slay any other passerby ego. 

The feeling behind this small event, when multiplied many times, breaks friendship, separates lovers, divorces marriages, brings war and disaster to nations and starvations to humans, and destroys endangered species.

When will peaceful co-existence be a reality and not something you read in books.

Once a librarian named Swarnamukhi, told me, “there can be a cure for cancer and aids, but not for human ego.”

How true. 

SUBURBAN PATCH IN THE CITY

It was in the year 2001. One of the neighbors, Sumathi, gave me a photo of Mother of Aurobindo Ashram of pondicherry. The way of praying to Mother is through flowers. According to her, each flower has a meaning. And if you offer any particular flower in prayer, your prayers will be answered. Sumathi also gave me a book titled “ Flowers and their meaning.”

For example lotus, both pink and white, signify wealth. Red hibiscus signifies energy, so on and so forth.

I began by placing flowers before Mother’s photograph.

That was the time I started noticing trees, plants and flowers as I walked on the roads. I noticed many trees, the type of flowers they bore and the months of flowerings. I also learnt about the perennials, seasonal, creepers, climbers etc.

I became interested in plants. Slowly I got some potted plants and kept them in the terrace in bright sunlight. Initially the plants flowered but all of them died after some time.

I too dropped the idea of growing plants, and started buying the flowers from the vendors.

But the vendors sold only the commercial flowers, like rose, jasmine, marigold chrysanthemum.

So I went to the wholesale market and got flowers at wholesale rates. But this could not be done on a regular basis. Finally I had to settle with the inconsistent flower suppliers. 

Then we moved into our own home, which was in the fifth floor. We had 2 balconies; one long and the other slightly less in length.

I always wanted to own a garden. But how does one do it in the fifth floor?

In the mean time we went to hill stations like, Ooty, Kodaikanal and Yercaud during our yearly trips. Each time we got some plants from these hill stations. These plants that looked so flourishing in the hills, dried and decayed in the hot and humid Chennai weather.

But the love for greenery persisted.

Meanwhile one of my colleagues, gifted me a feng-shui  lucky bamboo plant, when she visited us, in our new house. 

This colleague lives in a house with a wonderful garden, with all types of plants and trees. She had the green thumb, and the plant she gifted me grew up healthy and robust. Very soon I had to change it from original glass bowel container with water, into a pot with soil.

This plant bought with it the much needed luck and thereafter many plants I picked up from the numerous plant nurseries started to grow well.

All the window sills in the house were occupied with pots of different plants. But most of the spots did not get enough sunlight.

So the next question was how to overcome the problem.

 I was in the fifth floor, and could not just leave the flower pots on the   balcony for the fear of them falling on some innocent walker’s head.

So I was thinking, how to solve this problem?

I met a welder who makes gates and rails for the houses. I explained the project to him. He came and took measurements of the balcony. We came up with a design that would hold the flower pots securely in place and fixed the rails on to the side walls of the balcony.

Now I could easily put 10 flower pots with different plants on the balcony. This side of the home got the light form the setting sun and the plants got just enough sun and shade to grow up in good health.

In the other balcony we built a cement shelf, on the top of which we could put up another four pots.   

We had two pots on the window sill, one in the kitchen partition, two near the TV cabinet. I alternated the pots, so that all of them got enough sunlight.

Now my garden had grown, and is a pleasure to watch. I have attached some of the pictures for you guys. Hope you too like it.

Each day as I water the plants, first thing in the morning, it fills my urban heart with happiness, that there is still the possibility of a suburban patch in the city, even though it is just a small strip in the balcony.

the plants on the balcony

the plant on the shelf 

   

Why the great hurry?

Last year the 10^th of August was a sad day for me. One of my very young friends Vinayak Prabhu,  died in a road accident. He was handsome, married for 5 years, had a smart son ,who was 4 years, had a business, which was doing well. Everything was in the right direction, when this happened. A heavy vehicle ran over his pelvis and crushed him to death on the spot.

I had worked with him in his Head Quarters, many years back. He had given me a cassette on Marathi Abhangs. I still have it with me.

Once when he had come to Chennai, I had picked him from his hotel and taken him to my  home. My family and he went to a nearby restaurant for dinner. He charmed everyone with his catching smile, and was so warm and genuine. My son was in the 2^nd year of college. My son was handsome, but compared to Vinayak, he looked just ordinary.

It was a evening of satisfaction for me.

When I heard the  sad news, all the events of the past with Vinayak flashed in my mind in quick succession. it took me quite some time to get over my silent grief.

On 15^th March,  another young man died, on the spot, once again, while riding the 2 wheeler.

This person was my colleague whom I had trained 2 years ago. Very pleasant and mild mannered, with an every ready smile. He was so charming in his behavior and manners.

Through out the  2 years we had kept in touch, over the mobile sending sms very regularly. Recently he was promoted, but died on the job.

So sad ,so meaningless, so unnecessary.

Why this great hurry. Is it better late than never, or better to be late, than to be never?

I still have the last sms he sent me, on 12^th march , at 10.48PM.

“ all of us do not have equal talent, but all of us should have an equal opportunity to develop our talent.” 

Opportunities are for those who live.

I hope this blog puts life in the right perspective.

To do, we have to live.

To live we have to be careful.

May we take all the steps to live well and live long.

Hurrying is ok, but not when it costs your life.

           

OLD IS NOT OLD

I have been training candidates for a long time. At the end of each training I collect the mobile numbers, mail id , face book id, birthdays, marriage days and the birthday of the children of all the candidates.

I wish all of them, on all occasions and send and receive messages from many, on a day to day basis.

Some people keep in touch. Others do not. But that is not of importance to me. It gives me immense pleasure to wish them on their birthdays.

Some of the students are very affectionate. They keep in touch, even after many years of meeting.

To mention a few………..

There was this guy who met me in the railway station for just five minutes, when the train I was in stopped at kaatpadi junction en-route.  

He hugged me warmly and within five minutes filled the meeting with laughter, and love He gave me bag of filled with sweets, savories, cool drinks, bananas, and chocolates.

It was such a grand gesture. That friendliness was the best reward I could aspire for.

As the train left, I carried with me a very warm feeling of affability.

Another student had sent me a box of sweets [ pethas],very particular to Agra, through one of his friends who had visited my office. Unexpected gesture of love was the best surprise, that day.

One more student, a very good and sincere person, with a dependable nature, 

is now working for the police department, He had met me while I was traveling through his town, Krishnagiri . He held my hands with warmth, and presented me with a bag of eatables, as I was traveling further down. He fondly enquired of my health and asked me to take care of myself during my aging years. His concern and genuine care was really touching.

Yester evening I met another student, who had been in touch for three years. He is from Khamam in Andhra. He had started his own business and had been asking for my advice on many aspects of business. I helped him as best as I could. His business is prospering. He had come to Chennai and we met at the Marina beach. He was accompanied by an elderly friend and his sweet and charming wife. They made an excellent couple; so young and lively. He was just 23 and she was 21. They had been married already for 3 years and she was still studying her third year in college. They were so responsible that during these years, they had postponed pregnancy. She was helping in business and simultaneously studying.

We took a bus from the beach and came to Mylapore to have dinner in a clean veg hotel. We had meals. We talked and exchanged ideas, and he sought further advice in running the business well.  We were together till 10 PM, till they boarded a bus to take them to their hotel.  

I too took a bus going in another direction, to reach home.

As I was traveling back I recollected the warmth and affection of all these wonderful friends who, in spite of belonging to a very young generation, could still make an elderly person like me, feel wanted, and gave me a sense of belonging. After all, old is not old when you are surrounded by young loving brethren.  

Rain rain come again

I remember that in 1964 when I was in my 4^th standard, I was walking home from my friend’s house, when it suddenly started raining heavily. One moment it was dry and the next moment it poured like a cloud burst. I did not run for shelter, but enjoyed getting drenched and went home wet as a dog in a rainy day. It was a long walk; 20 minutes, and I enjoyed each and every moment of the shower.

The next opportunity came when I was in my college, in 1973. Me and my friend walked to his house. It was a thirty minute walk. Once again every drop of rain was relished by both of us. We were just young, when life is full of fun and getting wet is a look forward experience.

The third time it was in 1981. I was a representative. I used to meet doctors. One rainy day me and my colleague from another company got caught in a torrential rain, which lasted for more than 12 hours. We were dripping wet throughout the day. We made few calls. There was knee deep water in all the roads. We were not keen on going home. We put our bags in a relative’s house, and went to a nearby theater to see a movie. The shows were running house full.  It explains the die hard Indian who will brave all obstacles and yet make it to the most sacred place in India- that is the cinema theater.

We two were also die-hard. We took an electric train and traveled 20 kilometers to see the same movie in a suburb.

We came out at  6 PM, reached the relative’s house at 7 , continuously getting wet in the pouring rain, and finally reached home by 8. We had been wet for 12 hours.

Next day, we were back to work, in usual good health. 

After that there were many rains, but they were not the opportunities for getting wet.  I was either reaching office, or on some social call, were keeping dry was more important.

Yester evening in 2013, as I was walking home, the rain drops fell, first on my cheeks. Few drops, one at a time. It was on a lonely road where there was no shelter. I said what the heck, it has been such a long time, let me get wet.

I removed my cell and placed it in my pant pocket, safe and dry, wrapped in my kerchief. Then the drops became bigger, and heavier. Yes ,the same feel was there. The child in me surfaced and delighted in each and every drop that wet my face, flowed down from my hair, trickled down my neck, and changed my blue shirt into a darker color. The shirt stuck to me like a second skin, and my pant was pasted with the wet mud from the road.

I reached home soaked to the skin, reliving my child hood carefree days.

Rain is good, beautiful delightful, for those who like to and can get wet.

Next time it rains do not miss the experience, if you are like me; a person who like to get wet in the rains.                                  

INSPIRATION

 

Yester evening I had been to a dance recital. It was at Kalakshetra,  at Rukmini auditorium.

The recital was by Dr.Vijayanthimala Bali.

I had seen her dance in so many films. But I had had never an opportunity to see a live performance.

Last year I had seen her amongst the audience, in a singing recital. She had turned up, sharp on time, and had taken her seat just in front of me, a few rows ahead.

She sat ram rod straight throughout the 2 hours performance, and had not got up even once to take a break. I was so impressed, by her fitness.

I checked on Google. She was born on August 13^th 1936. That made her 76 years old. She was elder to me by 18 years, and so much fitter. So this was what drove me to see her dance.

She had her knees perfectly half bent as is the demand of a perfect posture, bowed deep down and touched the floor with both hands in the typical salutation gesture. “So flexible, “the message went down to the audience who simply showered her with a round of respectful applause.   She began her recital with a medium paced piece. The song was executed with a simplicity that comes to, thinking aged dancers. She was intelligent in choosing all the moves which she could do well and avoided all those tricky ones which could embarrass her.  She compensated with grace and fluidity of movements.

She had her expression well within control, and just had the optimal levels of emotions displayed: Neither more nor less.

She did not tire throughout the performance, there was no heavy breathing, even when a number lasted for 40 minutes. She took no short breaks and performed like it was a part of her daily routine.

I was seated 100 feet away from the stage. From that distance, I could appreciate the reason for heavy make up of the eyes, which could deliver expressions to those seated far away.

From here it looked as though a 35 year young extremely beautiful graceful woman was performing.  

It was thrilling to see what someone could do, with a life time of discipline. She sat on the stage and sprang to the next standing position, whirled around without loosing balance, half reclined in a movement, to shift gracefully to the next posture, and stood steady on one leg.   

The performance was met with, repeated applause, from an audience, who were art lovers, who had to sit on the floor, and stand in-between small spaces for 2 hours without complaining, as every seat was taken.

She was a brand, worth watching, delighting and emulating.

At the end of the performance, I came out inspired.

I had given up many of my loved activities; because I was growing old and could not do many things as well as I could do it when I was younger.

Now she had changed my perspective.

It is important to keep in touch with all those things which add joy to your life.

Be it knitting, singing, and painting, playing games, friends or relatives. You might not be able to give the best performance always. But if you stop, you will do much worse than you could, had you continued.  

So keep in touch with yourself and all the things you love. It adds happiness to life, shoos away boredom, brings peace within, and prevents us in interfering with others. Most importantly it makes you, your own source of joy.