It's a girl! :-) :-(

Nearly all of my mother’s friends that I met when I was in my teens said how my mom had longed for a baby girl all through her pregnancy. With her two elder sisters having had two sons each and with my brother being her first born, my mother was tired of all the boys in the family and desperately wanted a daughter.

My cousins got married a few years ago and when their baby was due, they were hoping for a baby girl too. More recently, my sister-in-law was in a similar situation. After looking at a scan of the baby’s face during the later stages of her pregnancy, everyone seemed to think it was going to be a boy. We were all proved wrong, and much to our delight I must add, when she gave birth to a cherubic baby girl!

While 24 years ago my mother wanted a girl after having had a son already, these young couples seem to prefer a single daughter to an only son. All this seems to hint that things appear to be finally looking up for the girl child in our society. Well, not so soon.

While on one end we have the financially stable, educated class of society pining for the girl child; on the other end of the spectrum we have female infanticide and sale of baby girls.

Muniratna, my maid servant’s daughter in Bangalore survived a near fatal abortion in the 4th month of her pregnancy after discovering that a fourth daughter was on her way. It is against the law to reveal the sex of fetus, but, there’s nothing that bribe can’t do. They are barely able to make ends meet, with her husband’s single income; but that doesn’t stop them from trying for a son after three daughters. She agrees with me that today, girls have equal opportunities and do just as well as their male counterparts. Being financially independent, they can look after parents just as well in their old-age; then, why the bias?

She tells me she can earn the respect of her family members only if she can bear a baby boy! Her in-laws want a boy to carry the family name forward – a vamshodhaarak. Another girl would mean more expenses, hence the abortion. More expenses? “We have to get her married and that costs a lot of money.” she says. And then there is the dowry. It never occurred to me that people would prefer a son to a daughter to avoid marriage expenses. Our culture, which expects the bride’s family to bear the cost of a lavish wedding, while the groom’s family sits back and enjoys the festivities without having to spend a penny, is to blame.

Educated, financially independent girls, put their foot down alright. But when there are more children than a small income can support, who gets the preference for higher education? Won't the birth of a son, thwart Muniratna’s daughters’ chances of that valuable education?

Idling....

Lots of free time gives me the chance to take a peek into people's lives(through blogs). Friends, friends' friends, acquaintances and total strangers. And everyone seems to be working or studying further. Getting ahead in life. Realising dreams.

And I think....

Life is like a Marathon. We all begin. Some of us pause, some stop, some go on and reach the finish line. Some reach soon, some reach later. But they reach. Are they the winners?

I've paused. I hope the pause doesn't get long enough to become a stop.



PS: Thanks to Shomo's suggestion, you can now e-mail your comments to me by clicking on 'write to me' below. If you want to. :)

Door Darshan - in more ways than one!

I was watching Hum Aapke Hain Koun the other day and Renuka Sahane's toothy grin reminded me of this erstwhile hugely popular program on Doordarshan called Surabhi.

An ever smiling Renuka Sahane and a somber Siddharth Kak hosted this show sitting on a colorful razai in the studio, while the rest of the team went to remote corners of India showcasing people's talents, bringing exotic locations into our drawing rooms and giving skilled artisans their two minutes of fame.

The 'aaj ka sawaal' and the much awaited hint before signing off made the postcard the most sought after commodity after onions. Each episode saw a new record being created in terms of the number of post-cards recieved. So much so that the government introduced 'competition postcards' to prevent the postal department from running into loss. The lucky draw at the end of the show decided which three lucky people were going to far off lands for "do raat aur teen din ki stay".

I remember borrowing postcards from my grandfather and sending in my answers too; but they never picked my postcard ever! :(

Quote from memory

Soumya and I had a pact between us before every Kannada test and exam during our Pre-University days. The deal was that she would study half the portion allocated for the test and I would do the remaining half. On our way to the test, we would narrate/explain to each other the parts we had studied.

On one such occasion, when the portion for the exam was vast and we had two sections to study – detailed and non-detailed, I was assigned the simple detailed part while she took it upon herself to study the more challenging non-detailed section, which happened to be Rashtrakavi Kuvempu’s Sri Ramayana Darshanam.

Convinced that she could not do justice to the masterpiece in the usual thirty minutes’ time; Soumya suggested we start for college earlier than usual on the day of the exam. After the standard “Tumba easy Kane” and “You have listened in class; haven’t you?” Madam Soumya started off with the narration. It sounded simple enough in the beginning; most of the incidents familiar. But as the narration continued and new characters were introduced into the plot, I started losing track. Add to that, Soumya’s “There are three ways of analyzing this statement. One:…..” and I was lost! At the end of the story-telling and retelling, I had a vague idea of the story but couldn’t remember the names of any of the characters other than Rama’s immediate family. After repeated re-caps, I memorized some names, but wasn’t sure if it belonged to a Rishi or Rakshasi. After I had settled on one of them, I could not tell which of the dozen rishis or rakshasis went by that name! But I wasn’t disheartened; this was after all, the non-detailed part; the questions would not get into the details.

The bell rang to announce the start of the exam. Not having used the Kannada script since the last test which was four months ago, I had trouble picking up speed. Due to the major influence English has on our day-to-day conversation, there were times when I was groping for the Kannada equivalent of simple words like “problem” and was tempted to go ahead with “praablam”. Save for these small hitches, the detailed section of the question paper was a breeze.

Satisfied, I moved on to the Non-detailed section. Now there are times in life when you feel helpless. You wish you had practiced copying. You wish you could just peep into someone’s paper and find the answer. You wish you had studied. You wish, but it’s too late. So there were all these 1 and 2 mark questions staring at me and asking me the names of people who did this-and-that. I wish I was confused; that way there was a remote chance of getting some answers right, but I wasn’t; I simply went blank. I didn’t remember a single name! Hoping to recall the names later, I proceeded to the not-so-detailed part of the non-detailed section and was able to answer most questions. Soumya’s “another way of looking at this…” came in handy here. Very soon there was just enough time to fill in the answers to the 1 and 2 marks Q’s and with no miracle happening, I ended up writing the inevitable. I had, “ObbaLu Rakshsi”, “Obba Rishi” and “Ondu Pakshi” all over the paper!

A week rolled by and I had nearly forgotten my dismal performance in the Kannada exam. I had moved on to more important matters like PCMB, when one afternoon Prof. Sreenivasa Shrama read aloud an answer, namely “ObbaLu Raakshasi” from my paper, to the whole class. Did anyone hear my name? Yes?

...and there are times in life, when you wish the earth would just swallow you!

Sweet n Sour

Vaish’s post reminded me of this tangy sweet we used to have as kids. Most domestic flights in India offer this along with the other sweets these days; and, a variant of it is available at all FoodWorld outlets as well.

Here’s how you can make it at home:

Tamarind, jaggery, and a pinch each of salt and chilli powder – place them all together on a hard surface and pound them with a heavy stone till the ingredients blend, resulting in a yummy homogenous mass. Draw out a small quantity of the mixture and roll it between your palms, till it assumes a spherical shape. Pop it into your mouth and savour the piquant taste!

Like it? :-)

Ram Navmi

Several temples, big and small, lined the road to my school. As a God-fearing young girl, I religiously stopped for a minute at each shrine and offered my prayers. From “Let the Physics teacher be on leave today” to “Let classes be suspended for some reason”, I always had a plea to make. I’m not sure if any of these prayers were answered, but I kept the faith and prayed, and adorned my forehead with various hues of kum-kum, ranging from pink to maroon, each day.

Ram Navmi usually coincided with the last day of school before a two-month long summer vacation, and also happened to be the day the results of the final exams were announced. The day saw me and a lot of other kids walk to school cheerfully, with big plans for the summer holidays, and without the burden of school or school bags weighing us down for a change.

One temple along the way was dedicated to Lord Hanuman and his being the greatest disciple of Lord Ram, called for a grand celebration of the festival. As devotees thronged to offer their prayers to the two deities; volunteers – mostly young men, distributed cool Belada hannina Paanaka and majjige, out of large earthen pots. The cold juice and buttermilk provided some respite from the scorching summer heat and was rarely refused by a passerby. Larger temples distributed kosumbri on pieces of plantain leaves and it was not uncommon to see people take home the “Prasada”. These together with Huli Avalakki and Rasayana were the delicacies associated with Ram Navmi.

Ram Navmi was special. While Ugadi brought with it a brand new calendar year, “Pass” on the result sheet on Ram Navmi, marked the beginning of a new academic year; starting with two months of fun and frolic!

Thinking of College…….

Lectures:
Cows and Bulls, Hangman, Listen intermittently, Giggle, Nod when you meet the lecturer’s gaze.

Labs:
Data sheets – the only thing that costs 25 ps a piece and still no one buys them.
PK supervises connection: “This wire will goes to here aa?”
Copy graphs; also the Aim, Apparatus, Theory, Procedure and Result! And….Inference!

Mass bunk:
Indefinite suspension. Enter HOD’s room. Get blasted for an hour. Blame lecturers. Classes resume.

Two days before internals:
Ask for important questions.

Day before internals:
Beg for important questions. PK gives seven. Shamelessly ask for the most important five.

Internals:
Blue books – sometimes empty, sometimes full. (Before the test I mean!)

First year: Study a week before internals.
Second year: A day before internals.
Third year: During the interval between two internals.
Fourth year: Study? What study?

Three types of people: Those who copy. Those who help others copy. Those who sit in the first bench and do not participate in such activities.

Internal Results:
One whole period wonderfully spent. Bargain for marks. Complete chaos.

Study Holidays:
Krishna Xerox: Bump into school mates you didn’t want to meet.
“I heard the exams are getting postponed”. “Who told you?” “No one, I just heard”!!!!
Exams are on schedule. Mug, mug, mug. I mean “mugs” of coffee!

Day of the exam:
Cram in the bus stop, in the bus, on the walk to the department, outside the exam hall.
“Please check your pockets desks and other places (!!). If you are found to have chits, you will be debarred for three years only” Three years ONLY??

Semester Holidays:
One week breather between semesters.

Results:
Pass. Fail. Revaluation.

Yet another semester……..

Bedtime Story

Among other things in life, confronting people who snore in their sleep and getting them to accept it, is most frustrating. Accusations made by entire sleep-deprived households are fiercely denied by the guilty lot, who win in the end, simply due to lack of adequate proof.

--------

Family functions and get-togethers are fun. All’s well during the day, but come night, everyone’s worried about the sleeping arrangements. There’s always an uncle who’s notorious for his snoring, and everyone wants a bed as far away from him as possible. So you have anxious relatives approaching the lady of the house to put them in another room, even balcony, but nowhere close to Mr. Snore.

When there are few rooms and there is not enough room if you quarantine uncle Snore, the ones who failed to approach the hostess are teamed with him. So in the morning you have this bleary eyed group of people, complaining of lack of sleep, thanks to Mr. Snore and their own negligence. For this bunch, it’s “once bitten, twice shy”. For the next unsuspecting lot, it’s a sleepless night again!
Very soon half the family has lost sleep over the snore.

--------

Hmm that’s bad, but why doesn’t anyone approach uncle Snore with the problem, and explain the inconvenience he is causing? He might understand and choose a far corner to snore and snooze while the rest of the family sleeps in peace.

Oh we’ve done that. All he ever says is, “Snore? Me? Please! No!”

New Look

I don't particularly like change. In fact I prefer constancy and predictability greatly to change and surprises; but this time, I made an exception. So here we are, with a brand new template! How do you like it? :-)

Ruler rules!

Resorting to unreasonable punitive measures, on the pretext of inculcating immaculate behavior in children, is at best ineffective and at worst, detrimental to a child’s growth.

I do not see how writing , “I will not talk in class” a thousand times can curb the habit and instill what is called discipline in a child. I do not see how being driven out of the class for not completing home-work can make the child a better student. Will humiliating punishments such as, parading a kid around the school for failing in a subject improve his grades? I think not. Hitting a second grader with a hard wooden scale on the knuckles will only make him detest school and studies further. ‘Stand up on the bench’ and ‘pinch the ear till it turns red’, might be the oldest forms of punishment, but they also are the most embarrassing.

When I was a kid studying in a primary school in Bangalore, this was the norm. I loathed school because of these cruel punishments and the insensitive teachers who meted out the punishment. Also, although I didn’t know it then, the very system of education that called for such behavior on their part.

Between the ages of three and ten, a child’s mind is very impressionable. Insulting children at this age, in front of their peers can have harmful and far reaching consequences. Sadly, most teachers fail to understand this. Why so? Aren’t students preparing to be elementary school teachers taught this in their training program? Don’t schools test them on this before they are recruited? Or are school managements, in their bid to make more money, struggle to secure more ranks in board exams, indifferent to crucial aspects like the quality of their primary school staff?

Assuming that the best candidates are selected, is their conduct with students monitored on a regular basis? Is suitable action taken against them if found guilty? Is there some means to determine if every child gets his/her due attention? Do they play favorites?
It is not enough to address concerns raised by parents and straighten things up only then. For rarely is such abuse reported to the parent by the ward, for the fear of being condemned and sidelined further in the future. It is the responsibility of the school to ensure that a working system is in place to take up these issues.

Going one step further, I would suggest that the education department should formulate and implement stringent rules, perhaps laws, to safeguard children from such seemingly harmless, but actually brutal ways of teachers. School managements, on their part, should adhere to these rules. Perhaps then, we can expect better behavior from the ones who enforce them on children – teachers!

Tummy Tale

I hated going to school. Everyday, I would come up with a new ailment to avoid school, the most common of all being stomach-ache; because with time I had discovered that it was one complaint that could not be verified. You cannot feign a fever or a cough or cold. They have symptoms that are there for all to see. No one will believe that a 7-8 year old can have a headache. There are few other diseases that one is aware of at that age, so stomach ache it was, on most days.

I was so irregular to school because of this, that one day; the head mistress suggested to my mother that she get a thorough medical examination done on me, to confirm that it was nothing serious. Though my mother knew that I was pretending most of the time - to bunk school, she wanted to be sure it was harmless. So, off we went to the HAL hospital the next day. I was game because it meant a day off school, for a valid reason. Those mean teachers would summon me to their desk in the afternoon the next day, and make me describe the experience. They would pity poor me, and gossip about it with their colleagues later in the day. Soon the whole of the primary section would know about it.

But, there was a problem. I had never had a stomach ache ever. What would I say if the doctor asked questions? Surely he wouldn’t expect a seven year old to express clearly what she was going through. What if after the examination, they found out that I was perfectly alright? They would report my condition to my mother and I would be ashamed of myself, for lying. What was worse was that, I would have to come up with fresh excuses to bunk school. After considerable thought over this matter during the course of the bus journey, I zeroed in on throat pain. However, I secretly hoped that the doctor would find something seriously wrong with me, and confine me to the bed for at least a month.

We reached HAL hospital and after breakfast at the hospital canteen, which I hated, but my mother claimed was quite hygienic, we headed to the pediatric department. My mother would have been happier if I had a stomach ache that day, in which case the doctor would be able to examine me while I was in pain, but it was not to be. I already had something to fill in the space for ‘reason for absence’ in the first page of the home-work diary. Besides, I knew better than to fool a doctor.

The examination itself was very disappointing. I had imagined it would take at least two hours, including the wait to meet the specialist. But it took less than half an hour. There was no long line ahead of us, and the doctor was not one to waste time on false-stomach aches. He asked me where exactly the pain occurred, and I pointed to a region I thought was most likely to lead to complications. But sadly, it turned out to be the most harmless zone. Appendicitis was out of the question and there was little else a stomach ache could mean at that age. All I needed to do to get rid of the recurring ache was, to drink plenty of water. That was all, no prescription, no tablets. This was embarrasing!

So out we went, my mother clearly relieved and I totally devastated; and she asked me quite nonchalantly, “Did you really have a stomach ache ever?” What could I say? – “From now on, it’s going to be throat pain”?

Spare a thought

A man puts his girl friend through a lie detector test to check if she has been cheating on him. He states he will break up with her, never to associate himself with her again, if the result turns out to be positive; and will propose marriage to her, if it turns out negative.
Lack of trust - this is the note on which the couple begin their married life together. It’s easy to guess why the divorce rate in this country is as high as it is.

Turns out, they also have a child out of wedlock. What of the child, if the lie detector shows his mother to be unfaithful? Doesn’t the child need the love and attention of both parents to have a secure childhood? Why bring a new life into the world if you cannot take up its responsibility and ensure its well being? To raise yet another generation of psychopaths who attribute all their misdeeds to an unhappy childhood?

Noodles for thought.

Saturday was special for many reasons. Half a day at school, less homework, more time to finish it, and the next day was Sunday. But there was yet another reason to look forward to Saturday afternoon. Maggi. Delicious noodles, nothing close to the Chinese version, that came in two flavors to suit the Indian palate – Masala and Chicken. Strangely, the “Masala” was marked in red while the “Chicken” was marked in Green! I was allowed to have Maggi noodles for lunch.

That ad whose wordings changed from time to time; so did the models. But the theme of hungry children coming home to steaming cups of Maggi Noodles with colourful vegetables popping out of the bowls remained the same. As did the catchy tune. Try singing it:

"Something something something something,
Something something something something,
Some-thing some-thing some-thing,
Maggi Maggi Maggi!!"

The best part about Maggi was that it was as tasty as it was made to seem on TV. Unlike other products which promised much and delivered little, Maggi stuck to its word - Easy to make; good to eat. But still, some people ruined this simple dish with their unwanted ingenuity. My heart bled when I saw people giving it a south Indian touch by seasoning it with turmeric, chana dal and mustard!

Boil one and a half cups of water, add chopped beans and carrot and peas, cook for two minutes, and then add the noodles followed by the masala. Wait for another two minutes and what have we! Yummy Maggi noodles, ready to be devoured! As simple as that. The first helping is good; the second even better. The remaining strands of noodles have absorbed the tasty soup and have become thicker and more succulent! Slurp!!
There has to be some secret ingredient in the Masala that makes Maggi so irresistible. I don’t care what it is, but I hope they retain it!

Few products have dominated the Indian market like Maggi has. Other brands have come and gone, some have stayed, but Maggi rules the instant noodles and instant food market in India. Long live Maggi noodles!

Say a Saying

Proverbs were an essential part of my growing up; thanks to my mother. She had one for every occasion. Lessons were taught and principles were laid down, through proverbs, rather than lengthy sermons. So much so, that when I think of my mother today, I don’t remember the exact words that she said when I was reprimanded, only the proverb that ended the admonition.

The one that was used on me most often was, “Gidavaagi baggaddu maravaagi baggeethe”. When translated it means, “That which will not bend as a sapling, will it bend as a tree?” !!
I was always asked to do odd jobs around the house and with the perfectionist mom that I had, the job had not only to be finished perfectly, and in the least time possible, but also done in a particular way!! I would stubbornly declare that I would do it my way for now and learn to do it her way when I was older. What did I get at the end of my compelling argument? The good old proverb and often its meaning – If you don’t learn when you are young; chances are, you won’t when you are older. So, start practicing now.

I got to hear many more over the short period of time my mother and I interacted with each other. When I came home a sore loser, blaming everything and everyone from the mike to the judge who slept while I spoke, I got to hear “Naach na jaane, aangan teda”. That put an end to my cribbing. When we heard a story of a greedy guy who lived beyond his means and suffered later, it was “Haasge iddashtu kaal chaachu”. Lazy to mend your clothes and will make do with a safety pin? “A stitch in time saves nine”. When I refused to run an errand, on the pretext that I wasn’t sure of my way around the place, “Kannu kurudaadre baayi kuruda?” it was. You may be blind, but not dumb; so be bold, girl; ask your way around. She even had one proverb commending proverbs, placing them above the Vedas in terms of relevance and the simple truths they stood for - "Veda sullaagabahudu, Gaade sullaagalla". So generous doses of proverbs it was, everyday.

When I look back now, I realize that somewhere along the way, with repeated usage, these little words of wisdom stopped being mere proverbs and became a way of life. They became principles we adopted, ideals we lived by; shaping our personalities by way of conditioning our thought process. I believe strongly in the underlying meaning of each of them and use them liberally in speech and writing today. I do not know if my mother intended for them to have such an impact on us when she used them, but if she did, she would be happy to know that it certainly has. It's no longer just a proverb or gaade or muhaavra, it's a legacy that I will proudly pass on to my children.

Maanasa Sarovara

“Maanasa Sarovara”, he says, in that golden voice. Pause. “Haadu. Haadtya?” Music. Four words and I have goosebumps.

I picture Srinath with his wide rimmed glasses, looking affectionately at his patient and beloved Padma Vaasanthi. The lady herself under the shade of a tree, joy and gratitude in her eyes, as she looks at the doctor who has given her a new lease of life. A bullock cart that rests innocently by the riverside and mother nature in all her glory; binding them all together.

The song comes alive as the two legends – S.P.B. and Vani Jayaram come together to render the most heart-warming melody that I have heard in all my life. Words fail me, as I try for the umpteenth time to capture in better words the emotions I go through when I listen to this song. I can only think of one. Happiness. A smile involuntarily adorns the lips when the duet begins and stays long after the song is over.

If music is a string and the words, beads; this song to me is the most beautiful string of beads.

Save the Earth; start with Bangalore!

Much has been said about Bangalore’s roads and the unnerving traffic. We do little else than point a finger at the inefficient government, the corrupt officials, the builders who do not stick to the time-lines and the understaffed traffic police force. I agree that all of them are to blame for the sad state of affairs in the city today and are answerable to the tax-payer for their apathy in this regard. But I have to add that we are responsible too. If we complain about the traffic, we must realize that our bikes and cars are part of it too. If we complain about pollution, our vehicles are emitting the thick black smoke too. If we complain about indiscipline, we must remember that sometimes we break rules too.

I travelled on Hosur road to get to Electronic City for close to a year and have to agree that each day, it was a frustrating one and a half hour's journey to get to work. When I peered out of the window I saw that more than the trucks that we conveniently blamed, which actually belonged to this particular road, it was the two wheelers and cars that were the culprits. While the two wheelers broke all rules to make their way through the narrowest of paths in the maze of traffic to get a few inches ahead, the cars sat comfortably and honked.

Now, why didn’t these people take the company buses like all others? If ten people were to travel by bus, it would mean ten cars less. Considering the space one car occupies, that’s a lot of space saved. But they wouldn’t do that; would they? They want to sit in the comfort of their air conditioned cars to shut off the polluted air and curse the rest of the traffic while they are to blame more than the trucks and the buses.

Yet another thought. How many of us think of taking the BMTC buses when we have to go out? If a dozen of us does it, it’s a dozen vehicles off the road. But for most of us it is a shame and below our dignity to travel by bus. We all assume that the buses never ply as per schedule, are slow, crowded, dirty, what not! Have we tried? I have and let me tell you that if you can manage to get a seat, which is not too difficult, it is the best way to commute! It is safe, economical, and more comforatble than a ride on a bike. Now you might argue that it is time consuming and in the busy life one leads today half an hour is a lot of time. A lot of time for what? Some more sleep? Another show on Television? Another page or two in the newspaper? Well, you could do that while you sat in the bus. The problem is we are not willing to try. We do not believe that one of us can make a difference. “Little drops of water make a mighty ocean” is easy to preach, but too difficult to practice.

I urge each one of you to give it a try. Take the BMTC bus whenever you can. Save the auto fare for better things. Take the company bus even if you can afford to travel by car. Walk short distances. Set a trend. Help save the city we all so love! Will you? :-)

Homemaker v/s Housewife

State of mind: Agitated.

They draw as far as the dictionary is concerned. But, if I were to define a married woman who stays at home, who does not have a paid or unpaid occupation outside of home, using one word; housewife it would be. This also happens to be the reason why I’ve decided to replace the more sophisticated and more pseudo “homemaker” in my user profile with this word.

All women make homes. Do housewives make it any better that they are called that? I don’t think so. My mother had a full-time job and she managed the home just as well as the ones who stayed at home, sometimes better and never worse. She never got to call herself a “homemaker”. Why me?

State of mind: Relaxed = Rational.

All married women have, by default, one steady job – that of managing the household, also called homemaking, which goes unstated, if they have yet another job.
If all “working women” started stating this job explicitly, we would have in the space provided for occupation, “doctor, homemaker”, “lawyer, homemaker”, “teacher, homemaker” and so on. So for a married woman who has a career, the homemaker part goes without saying.
On the other hand, what should the unemployed housewife call herself? “Jobless”? “Unemployed”? She chooses not to. She embraces this default job of homemaking as the primary one and uses the term “homemaker” to describe her occupation instead of the simple and crude “jobless”. Fair enough? Yes, for me.
Also a good enough reason to retain the debated term in the user profile. :-)

I think...

...an enormous lot goes into the making of a person. To mention the two most important factors and perhaps the most all-inclusive ones – experiences and people. The person you are, what you know, the way you react, the kind of people you are drawn to, the kind of people you despise, everything is based on your own experiences in the past or those which someone has told you about - through a book, through a movie, or by talking to you. Which means each one of us, has in ourselves, a little of every person who has touched our lives, positively. The bitter experiences and the traits of the person that led to them, we invariably choose not to imbibe, owing to the pain it brought to us. This means we evolve with the experiences we have had and learnt from, the people we meet, the positives we add and the negatives we filter out from our personalities. So the mere years behind you, beyond a certain age, have nothing to do with the kind of person you have turned out to be. It is what you’ve learnt along the way, which makes you what you are. Simply put, one is not always, a “wise old man” or a “brash young lad”!

A midsummer night's....story

My brother had come home after six months from the UK, and the mood at home was euphoric. At around 10.00 that night, there was a knock at the door and he answered it. Curious to know who it was at the odd hour, anna and I joined him. An old man, with a white beard covering most part of his countenance, stood before us. He had the familiar khakee coat on and as we looked beyond, we saw an auto rickshaw perched in front of our home. For a moment I thought it was an auto driver seeking directions; until he uttered that simple four lettered word, “File”. No sooner had he said that, than everything came rushing back to my brother as he immediately identified the old man to be the auto driver who had driven him home from the airport.

As we watched in bewilderment, the elderly man led us to his auto and produced a file. The file. The navy blue case which had all the important papers in it. Marks cards, degree certificates, work experience certificates, everything! It was then that we realized that it had been “LOST” all the while.

Our messiah unfolded the events of the day to us as we continued to watch in disbelief. My brother had been his first customer for the day and he had picked him up at the airport. Sometime in the evening, a commuter had found the file sitting innocently in the back seat and had mentioned it to him. The previous passengers had perhaps assumed that it belonged to the driver and had not bothered to bring it up. When this man handed him the file while alighting at his destination, the old man was worried. It was 7.00 in the evening and he had had several customers since daylight. There was no way he could establish who it belonged to. His conscience did not permit him to discard it either. It might mean a lot to someone, he felt, and he was right.

Illiterate that he was, he took the file to a bunch of lads chit-chatting nearby. He explained the situation to them and asked them to find the address from the papers. They flipped through the certificates and finally in one of the papers they found the address and told the old man that it belonged to someone from “Rajajinagar, 1st Block”. They also told him, it looked like it was a doctor’s. Now it was clear to the old man that it belonged to his first customer, the young man who he had ferried home from the airport. He did not need the postal address to return it to its rightful owner anymore; he had been there in the morning and could get to the house comfortably. And so, here he was.

He handed it over to my brother and asked him to check if everything was in place. My brother did not find the need to do that, after encountering such honest behaviour from the man. However, he quickly scanned the contents at the old man's insistence and as expected, found everything intact. We thanked him profusely for his kindness and he told us modestly that we had only to thank God for it. He was a moulvi in a mosque and asked us to visit the shrine sometime.

He mentioned having small kids at home and we gave him some chocolates to take home for the children.
A couple of hundred rupee notes can in no way measure up to a gesture and deed like this, but we had to show our gratitude in some way.

As he bade us goodbye and went his way, we stood there, dumbstruck. We shuddered to think what it would have been like, had we discovered that it was lost, before it was found! It would have taken my brother quite some time to even determine where it was lost. Even if he did, how could we track it down? A complaint at the local police station remains just that. Nothing is ever recovered.

When I look back, I cannot help but conclude that some incidents are beyond reasoning. Why did my brother have to forget that precious file in the auto? Why did he have to take the pious old man's auto that day? Had he taken another, would he have still got the lost property back? Did the old man, in all his innocence have any idea, what those piece of papers meant to my brother? I can go on and on about the endless possibilities. But the point is, did all this happen for a purpose? To be grateful to God? To re-establish our lost faith in the goodness of mankind? Maybe.

Back in action

I lasted! Yes I did! Without internet and music and cable TV and DVD’s.
Goes to show, there are some things you cannot live without and others you cannot live comfortably without.
Is that the difference between need and greed?

It was foggy and misty this morning and I thought I' d made a tongue twister, only until Se managed to say it comfortably. :( Let's hear you say it. "Mister Mist missed Miss Mitchell" I hope you said Missele. :(

BTW, it took me close to an hour to log comments and create this post. I'm quite sure it's the Vital Information and Resources (of my system that are) Under Siege. So I have to patiently wait till my PC gets well!! :-)