New Year Resolutions
It is that time of the year again to make New Year resolutions. Agreed, We are not celebrities whose resolutions are eagerly awaited for or get talked about. But, if only each one of us are as serious about sticking to our resolutions as we make them…!..Any ways for those who are still undecided about what to resolve this year, here are some handy tips.
Would you believe me, if I say” giving “is much easier than “giving up”?? This New Year we can resolve to give, share, care and we can also resolve to “give up” certain things. There are so many ways to give, so many things to give and so many people to give to. For example, even a smile makes a difference. A warm hand shake, a gentle hug, a patient ear to somebody’s problems, a little of your time, all these can be given without much effort. For those with deep pockets, sky is the limit!
But giving up, really needs a steely resolve. List out what you want to give up?? This requires a bit of honesty, but has excellent results. Do you always turn up late ? Then time to Give up the habit! Do you have this terrible habit of snacking in between meals, which ruins the figure achieved after days of starving? Time to give up that too! Do you have this habit of bitching about someone in front of others? I bet it has strained your relations when the person you bitched about got to know about it! Are you an impulsive shopper who tends to overuse your credit card? Time for that resolution again! List is endless!
Remember, giving and giving up are both emotionally very satisfying. Giving gives joy not only to the recipient, but to the giver also! And do I need to say anything more about giving up? The more of the unwanted things you give up, the better person you become! Anyways, you will be a winner all the way!!! So go ahead! Make those resolutions… and… stick to them, but of course!!
Sujatha Natraj
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
ORIGINALITY
“It better be something original” my teen aged daughter said, when I disclosed, ( not for the first time) that I wanted to start my own blog. “What about a small uncomplicated love story”?? I countered. She sighed “ are love stories ever uncomplicated”? and rolled her expressive eyes . My son who heard this said “ Oh No! Not a love story “and made a suitably disgusting face. He is 15 and refuses to discuss anything other than sports. He suggested” Why don’t you write some thing about god?? God? I wondered aloud. You know, the god who bats at no.4 for India?? he said.
That was not an option, I decided. It had to be something original, I decided, something no body had written about ever. I lamented to my husband there was nothing original left. Take the movies for instance, Everything these days was a remake of this bollywood or Hollywood original And songs, a remix or a straight lift from the original. And many authors copied too. Few had the time or the creativity to create something original. So do I stand a chance??
Unwilling to give up so easily, I listed out the virtues of originals. “ They lasted forever, They were valued and cherished for ever, They had so many followers. One only had to read about the prices an original Picasso or MF Husain fetched in those pricey auctions. Now, our own Gandhi, aptly named by none other than Tagore for being a “ Great soul” was an original. He is remembered for his original idea of “Satyagraha” a most harmless but effective way of protesting.
Unknowingly, my fingers were flying in the keyboard. I poured out my anguish at the lack of originality, at the multitude of versions of every other original. Before I realized, it was 9pm and time for dinner. My son barged in” Mom, what’s for dinner?? My husband added helpfully ”some original recipe, I suppose”, and not the ones you try to copy from those women’s magazines”? Neither, I said tongue in cheek.” I have a very original idea” , We are all going out for dinner today.
Sujatha Natraj
That was not an option, I decided. It had to be something original, I decided, something no body had written about ever. I lamented to my husband there was nothing original left. Take the movies for instance, Everything these days was a remake of this bollywood or Hollywood original And songs, a remix or a straight lift from the original. And many authors copied too. Few had the time or the creativity to create something original. So do I stand a chance??
Unwilling to give up so easily, I listed out the virtues of originals. “ They lasted forever, They were valued and cherished for ever, They had so many followers. One only had to read about the prices an original Picasso or MF Husain fetched in those pricey auctions. Now, our own Gandhi, aptly named by none other than Tagore for being a “ Great soul” was an original. He is remembered for his original idea of “Satyagraha” a most harmless but effective way of protesting.
Unknowingly, my fingers were flying in the keyboard. I poured out my anguish at the lack of originality, at the multitude of versions of every other original. Before I realized, it was 9pm and time for dinner. My son barged in” Mom, what’s for dinner?? My husband added helpfully ”some original recipe, I suppose”, and not the ones you try to copy from those women’s magazines”? Neither, I said tongue in cheek.” I have a very original idea” , We are all going out for dinner today.
Sujatha Natraj
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Dealing with disappointment
I am sure every one of us has been disappointed, terribly disappointed, or frustratingly disappointed at some point of our life. And when we don’t know how to deal with it, it just seems to happen more often. Haven’t we often cried out ”Oh, why it had to happen to me?. From a child, who burns midnight oil before the exams and ends up getting just average marks, a teen age boy who goes all out to woo the new girl in his class, like having a new hair cut, wearing the right brand of jeans, shoes and tees, only to see the girl walking hand in hand with a very attractive guy and a newly married girl who tries to cook up the best food for her husband only to see her husband gobbling it up without uttering a word of appreciation. Some of us give vent to our frustration and give a piece of our mind then and there, more often than not, to regret it later. Some of us wallow in self pity, “ It always happens to me, I put in my best, but just doesn’t seem to work for me”!
So, how does one deal with these “disappointments”? Especially when we think we have tried our best?? May be the ”best “ was not enough! But should we stop trying? Never! An introspection with a calm mind would tell us where we could have done a little better. Like the child would realize, I should have started studying from the beginning of the term, rather than cram just before the exams. The teen aged boy is sure to find another girl, who will love him for what he is and the new daughter in law would understand that not that her husband did not like her cooking, he just did not know how to express his feelings!
There are always lessons learnt from each situation in our life. Acceptance and Perseverance will surely help us deal with most of the disappointments in our life. Acceptance of the situation, of the people around us as well as perseverance with a focused mind would definitely help us get over difficult situations. Of course, a few generous doses of gratitude towards the Almighty for all that we have will only speedup up the process!! It worked for me! And I am sure it would for you too, So, Cheers, Get, Set, Go!!!
So, how does one deal with these “disappointments”? Especially when we think we have tried our best?? May be the ”best “ was not enough! But should we stop trying? Never! An introspection with a calm mind would tell us where we could have done a little better. Like the child would realize, I should have started studying from the beginning of the term, rather than cram just before the exams. The teen aged boy is sure to find another girl, who will love him for what he is and the new daughter in law would understand that not that her husband did not like her cooking, he just did not know how to express his feelings!
There are always lessons learnt from each situation in our life. Acceptance and Perseverance will surely help us deal with most of the disappointments in our life. Acceptance of the situation, of the people around us as well as perseverance with a focused mind would definitely help us get over difficult situations. Of course, a few generous doses of gratitude towards the Almighty for all that we have will only speedup up the process!! It worked for me! And I am sure it would for you too, So, Cheers, Get, Set, Go!!!
Friday, September 24, 2010
Little Chaitali - A True Story
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a 2 hour stint of volunteering at a local NGO would change my life permanently! It started out quite casually, when my son came home from school telling me about a project work where he would have to do 100 hours of community work and get it certified from an NGO. I googled to find the nearest NGO and stumbled upon a small NGO running an orphanage cum adoption agency.
The next day, after dropping my son at school, I headed to the orphanage. A little apprehensive and not knowing what to expect, I knocked at the door. A smart lady opened the door and welcomed me in. Before I could begin about my son’s project, she spoke about how badly they were in need of volunteers. Before I realized (and Project forgotten), I found myself asking “ would it be OK if come in for 2 hours, say from 10 to 12 in the morning”. Both my children would be at school then”. The lady beamed at me and took me in. The sight that welcomed me would always remain etched in my memory!! The moment we entered, 10 to 12 little angels, surrounded me, chanting “didi,didi”, while two tots hugged my knees”. The love in their eyes was so blatant, that it brought tears to my eyes.
“This is Chaitali”, we have assigned her to you, she is a year and half old, but has problem with her speech”, the lady said and brought a tiny wisp of a child. The child looked so fragile that I thought her bones would break if I carried her! I picked her carefully and pushed back the hair falling into her eyes. Such a sweet angelic face! I couldn’t imagine, which mother in her right mind would abandon such a child?
The lady interrupted my thoughts.”You know, she is a difficult child and has not bonded with anybody yet. Never lasted more than 10 minutes with any of them! You know , she starts crying and has to be taken away. Generally, the children bond very easily with the volunteers coming in, but Chaitali, she even refuses to make eye contact with them”.
“Oh! Don’t worry, I am sure she will be ok’”, I heard myself saying, already thinking of a hundred ways in my mind to bring a smile to the child’s face.
The lady left , saying playfully” Your time starts now”. Slowly I sat down, keeping Chaitali in my lap. For the first few seconds, I just hugged her, letting my body warmth seep into her. I caressed her hair, kissing the top and whispered endearments. Still no response! Slowly I picked up a few toys lying around and made a story of my own and enacted it, all the time holding her close to my heart. The other children, all between 2 to 6 years of age, gathered around me, clearly enjoying the show.
Half an hour later, which seemed like ages to me, Chaitali started picking up the toys and started playing. The lady peeped in and smiled at me.” She seems to like you”! Carry on!”
At the end of my 2 hour session, still chaitali in my lap, I began to gather the toys strewn around and started putting them in the basket. Taking a cue, chaitali too started picking up the toys and started putting them one by one in the basket.The last toy, a piece in the Barbie Ktichen set, had rolled off under her baby chair. She wriggled from my lap, bent under the chair and picked up the toys and for the first time in 2 hours, looked at me, gave me a shy smile and dropped them into the basket.
I couldn’t believe it! I wanted to shout with joy, “Look, she smiled, she looked at me”. I carried her to the lady and took my leave. She gave me a diary to note down my daily progress with Chaitali. “ “Say bye to didi”, Say see you tomorrow to didi”, the lady was prompting Chaitali. She shyly bid me “BYE”.
While walking home with the other volunteers, each narrating their heart wrenching experiences, when their”child” was identified for adoption, I wondered how I would react when Chaitali is eventually identified for adoption. The sight of children craving for tiny crumbs of affection, a warm touch and a gentle hug moved me so much that I knew I was going to be a “regular” here.
At home too, she seemed to be the pivot of my thoughts. I couldn’t stop talking about her to my husband and kids. “You know what chaitali did today”? So much so that my husband and kids would tease me saying they were jealous of “Chaitali”.
Now, it is three weeks, since the first day. The staff at the NGO say “Chaitali is a changed baby”. I see it myself. The moment, she spots me at the door, she comes running and hugs me, the way I hug her. She makes eye contact readily and has even started talking. She has got colour in her cheeks which have filled out now.
I looked back at the last three weeks. All I had given her was love in abundant doses with some hugs and kisses. If love can do so much, why are we so hesitant in sharing our love?? Yes, at the back of my mind, I dread the day, when the lady at the NGO may announce” Chaitali has been identified for adoption”. But I am sure, I will be happy for her, for she will find a new home and more people to love her!!!
Sujatha Natarajan
The next day, after dropping my son at school, I headed to the orphanage. A little apprehensive and not knowing what to expect, I knocked at the door. A smart lady opened the door and welcomed me in. Before I could begin about my son’s project, she spoke about how badly they were in need of volunteers. Before I realized (and Project forgotten), I found myself asking “ would it be OK if come in for 2 hours, say from 10 to 12 in the morning”. Both my children would be at school then”. The lady beamed at me and took me in. The sight that welcomed me would always remain etched in my memory!! The moment we entered, 10 to 12 little angels, surrounded me, chanting “didi,didi”, while two tots hugged my knees”. The love in their eyes was so blatant, that it brought tears to my eyes.
“This is Chaitali”, we have assigned her to you, she is a year and half old, but has problem with her speech”, the lady said and brought a tiny wisp of a child. The child looked so fragile that I thought her bones would break if I carried her! I picked her carefully and pushed back the hair falling into her eyes. Such a sweet angelic face! I couldn’t imagine, which mother in her right mind would abandon such a child?
The lady interrupted my thoughts.”You know, she is a difficult child and has not bonded with anybody yet. Never lasted more than 10 minutes with any of them! You know , she starts crying and has to be taken away. Generally, the children bond very easily with the volunteers coming in, but Chaitali, she even refuses to make eye contact with them”.
“Oh! Don’t worry, I am sure she will be ok’”, I heard myself saying, already thinking of a hundred ways in my mind to bring a smile to the child’s face.
The lady left , saying playfully” Your time starts now”. Slowly I sat down, keeping Chaitali in my lap. For the first few seconds, I just hugged her, letting my body warmth seep into her. I caressed her hair, kissing the top and whispered endearments. Still no response! Slowly I picked up a few toys lying around and made a story of my own and enacted it, all the time holding her close to my heart. The other children, all between 2 to 6 years of age, gathered around me, clearly enjoying the show.
Half an hour later, which seemed like ages to me, Chaitali started picking up the toys and started playing. The lady peeped in and smiled at me.” She seems to like you”! Carry on!”
At the end of my 2 hour session, still chaitali in my lap, I began to gather the toys strewn around and started putting them in the basket. Taking a cue, chaitali too started picking up the toys and started putting them one by one in the basket.The last toy, a piece in the Barbie Ktichen set, had rolled off under her baby chair. She wriggled from my lap, bent under the chair and picked up the toys and for the first time in 2 hours, looked at me, gave me a shy smile and dropped them into the basket.
I couldn’t believe it! I wanted to shout with joy, “Look, she smiled, she looked at me”. I carried her to the lady and took my leave. She gave me a diary to note down my daily progress with Chaitali. “ “Say bye to didi”, Say see you tomorrow to didi”, the lady was prompting Chaitali. She shyly bid me “BYE”.
While walking home with the other volunteers, each narrating their heart wrenching experiences, when their”child” was identified for adoption, I wondered how I would react when Chaitali is eventually identified for adoption. The sight of children craving for tiny crumbs of affection, a warm touch and a gentle hug moved me so much that I knew I was going to be a “regular” here.
At home too, she seemed to be the pivot of my thoughts. I couldn’t stop talking about her to my husband and kids. “You know what chaitali did today”? So much so that my husband and kids would tease me saying they were jealous of “Chaitali”.
Now, it is three weeks, since the first day. The staff at the NGO say “Chaitali is a changed baby”. I see it myself. The moment, she spots me at the door, she comes running and hugs me, the way I hug her. She makes eye contact readily and has even started talking. She has got colour in her cheeks which have filled out now.
I looked back at the last three weeks. All I had given her was love in abundant doses with some hugs and kisses. If love can do so much, why are we so hesitant in sharing our love?? Yes, at the back of my mind, I dread the day, when the lady at the NGO may announce” Chaitali has been identified for adoption”. But I am sure, I will be happy for her, for she will find a new home and more people to love her!!!
Sujatha Natarajan
The verdict
Is the average man you find on the streets worried about the”verdict”? The news channel have not stopped talking about it. The government has left no stone unturned to rein in the untoward eventualities. The verdict might swing either way. But should we worry about it? Agreed, most of the Hindus would indignantly ask “ In our own land, we can’t even build a temple to our lord”? Ayodhya has always been Ramjanambhoomi”. And what about the average muslim for whom the wounds of demolition of Babri masjid have not yet healed?? So what is the solution??
What better temple for Ram than in our own hearts?? And is not God everywhere, does one need to go to a mosque to offer prayers??? Friends, Karl Marx has likened religion to opium. An overdose can get one intoxicated. Aren’t there enough temples, mosques & churches that you need to add one more?? Or aren’t there enough issues to worry about? Neither Ram nor Allah would want people to kill one another for a temple or a mosque.
If each one of us, start thinking and believing we are “INDIANS FIRST’ and then a Hindu, Muslim, Sikh or a Christian, then half the task is accomplished. Sadly India is divided by the very diversity it is known for; We have a Hindu law, Christian marriage Act, and “Shariat”and so on.
Religion is like a beautiful garland, but the moment a monkey gets hold of it, what happens to it? Sometimes it garlands itself, and sometimes it tramples it under its feet. We have to be beware of such monkeys! Religion should belong to its rightful place, in our homes and protected like our most personal possession. It should be a beacon in our lives, leading us in the right path.
Tamasoma Jyotirgamaya!! From darkness, let there be light”!!! May the God lead us all from the darkness of ignorance to the light of wisdom!!
What better temple for Ram than in our own hearts?? And is not God everywhere, does one need to go to a mosque to offer prayers??? Friends, Karl Marx has likened religion to opium. An overdose can get one intoxicated. Aren’t there enough temples, mosques & churches that you need to add one more?? Or aren’t there enough issues to worry about? Neither Ram nor Allah would want people to kill one another for a temple or a mosque.
If each one of us, start thinking and believing we are “INDIANS FIRST’ and then a Hindu, Muslim, Sikh or a Christian, then half the task is accomplished. Sadly India is divided by the very diversity it is known for; We have a Hindu law, Christian marriage Act, and “Shariat”and so on.
Religion is like a beautiful garland, but the moment a monkey gets hold of it, what happens to it? Sometimes it garlands itself, and sometimes it tramples it under its feet. We have to be beware of such monkeys! Religion should belong to its rightful place, in our homes and protected like our most personal possession. It should be a beacon in our lives, leading us in the right path.
Tamasoma Jyotirgamaya!! From darkness, let there be light”!!! May the God lead us all from the darkness of ignorance to the light of wisdom!!
Monday, September 13, 2010
Never meant to be...
Never meant to be………
Her mouth formed a perfect”O” and a fair, long fingered hand went upto her mouth. Dave!!
“Dave!!! After all these days, years,…..Where were you?? Not a single call, not a reply to my letters”!!! He had expected it!
She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Her freshly scrubbed face, glowed, perhaps, of the new found love. “Please , he said,Jayu, please….can I come in??” His heart thundered against his chest, threatening to break out any time. It had been always like this…whenever he looked at her….
She stepped back from the door, motioning him in into the spacious, yet well appointed living room. He looked around and thought, “Sure enough! Mrs. Jayanthi Mahesh” is doing very well for herself. His eyes stopped at the framed photo of the newly weds, Jayanthi,(his “jayu) and Mahesh, her husband. Jayu was smiling into the camera and her husband had a possessive hand around her hips. Six years later, it still hurt. It shouldn’t have, damn it!
She followed his eyes and said a little too brightly, “yes, it’s been three months now. Slowly he looked up at her asked”Why Jayu, Why you did not reply to my letters???”
“Me?” She said indignantly, “you did not bother to write even once. After my dad was transferred from Trichy to Ahemdabad, I did write to you”.
“Yes, you had, but there was no return address in it. Many things have happened since, Soon after your family left, I lost my dad and my mom couldn’t get over it.. I was in the third year of my engineering. I took up an evening job and managed my studies too. Unable to pay the rent, we shifted to my maternal uncles’s place. After I graduated,my uncle got me this job abroad.The first thing I adid after I got a job was to start looking for you, through some common friends. Here I am, traced you through orkut. But I am late aren’t I”???
With a heavy heart, Jayu remembered how her father had got transferred to Trichy when she was in the 10th standard. Dave and family were their neighbours. Initially, her orthodox Brahmin parents had a tough time adjusting to their non vegetarian Christian neighbours. But once the initial hurdles were overcome, they became friends. The friendship between Jayanthi and Dave too, started off innocently, with her asking him doubts in maths, and he being 3 years her senior, helping her out. But slowly, it blossomed into love. Flush with their new found love, they cherished each moment of togetherness. Little did they know what destiny had in store for them!
When she went to him to ask her math problems,( it was only a pretext to talk to him, she later confessed) he would look around , make sure their parents were not around, hold her hand and put to his chest, “listen Jayu, this maddening sound of my heart? It goes crazy, you know, every time you come near me”, he would whisper in her ears. This, this is what you do to me”. She would listen to it , with her own heart racing maddeningly and slowly withdraw her hand secretly proud of how much he loved her. She always looked forward to the stolen moments when their parents had gone out, or on her way back from school, he would join her in the bus journey back home. They made plans for the future, he would finish his engineering, get a job and come and ask for her hand.
It was not long before both the parents got wind of this blossoming love. As expected, Jayu’s father flew into a rage, but was clever enough not to show it on his face. He quickly applied for a transfer to a place “as far as possible”. Jayu and Dave, blissfully unaware of her father’s plans, continued to meet whenever possible, till one day, her father said, Jayu, our train is at 2.30,we are leaving today. I am transferred to Ahmedabad”.
She was stunned, “Dad, but you never told, you must have known it for some time”, she said accusingly. Yes he said unmovingly, “I have known “this”for quiet some time now”, leaving her to wonder what he meant after all.
At the sound of the phone ringing, she came out of her reverie and ran to pick it up, “Yes Mahesh, yeah, I am fine, was in the kitchen,…… got tickets for the movie…..grt…bye..hmm, no not over the phone,..no, bye”.
Obviously, it was her new husband, Dave realized. The time had come to tell her why he had come all the way to see her inspite of knowing she was married. Jayu, he called her and made her sit down. “Wonder why I came all the way?? For years, I had wondered, why you never wrote to me?? Did you love me? Did it mean anything at all to you?? I have spent nights wondering, where you were. Was it like this for you also?? Tell me , Jayu, I had to know this”.
She choked, ‘Yes Dave, it still hurts somewhere in the corner of my heart when I see you like this…Yes my thoughts , more often than not, are about you. I realized it is not easy to forget the first love of my life.Then days grew into months and years, and still I did not hear from you, I thought.. may be , but may be, you had forgotten me. At one point of time, I had to give in to my parents. But not that I blame Mahesh, He has been really good to me”, Perhaps, more than what I deserve!”
Having found his answer,he stood up slowly and turned towards the door.
“Jayu, Dave said, “In a couple of months, I am getting married, to a girl of my mother’s choice, but I just wanted to see you once, to ask you, to see if my heart still went crazy when I came near you”.
Inspite of herself, She asked in a whisper, “ Does it?? Does it still”?. Slowly, like he always had done, he picked her hand and put it to his chest. It thudded heavily for a few seconds and slowly settled into a rhythmic beat.
Jayyu, , he said, “Thinking , what could have been between us……, she slowly put her hand and closed his mouth.
“It was never meant to be……. Dave….never meant to be………Be happy. Be always happy”, and silently shut the door behind her.
Sujatha Natarajan
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
CITIZEN AUDIT...THE PLAN UNFOLDS...
At the outset, let’s be clear that this is not going to be a fault finding mission. This audit, as I would like to call it, would be a combination of establishing accountability at all levels and encourage ”volunteering” amongst each one of us. It would also be a means to our empowerment, through very legitimate means. And I strongly believe this would inculcate in each one of us a strong sense of belonging to our own country, state, area…..
I had always wondered about “volunteering “, as they call it abroad, when my cousin would say how the parents of other children would always volunteer to take the children out for the day, volunteer to help out on a sports day or even volunteer to coach a weak child in maths…etc. May be the seed was sown at that moment…
All of us have at least one municipal or a government body situated within a radius of at least 2 kms of our house. We can start our volunteering with say an anganwadi,(especially where they have a midday meal scheme) or even a PDS (ration) shop or a municipal school. The approach has to be very pro active with an intention to lend a helping hand. As a first step,
1. we can ask them to put up a board at the entrance listing our the persons responsible for the day to day running of the organization along with their contact nos.
2. Form a committee of likeminded citizens willing to volunteer and be a part of the day to day administration or at least in important policy decisions.
3. Let’s make it very clear that the accountability of tax payers’money is of paramount importance and that it has to reach the purpose for which it was intended for, till the last paise.
4. The committee on its own, or with the management of these institution can have regular meetings to discuss the spending, canvass for donations etc. In fact, the involvement of right kind of people would effortlessly bring in the much required funds too.
The list is endless. This is only a beginning. We can’t afford to be complacent anymore and that we owe it to the Gen next. To quote Swami Vivekanada “ Arise, Awake….
I had always wondered about “volunteering “, as they call it abroad, when my cousin would say how the parents of other children would always volunteer to take the children out for the day, volunteer to help out on a sports day or even volunteer to coach a weak child in maths…etc. May be the seed was sown at that moment…
All of us have at least one municipal or a government body situated within a radius of at least 2 kms of our house. We can start our volunteering with say an anganwadi,(especially where they have a midday meal scheme) or even a PDS (ration) shop or a municipal school. The approach has to be very pro active with an intention to lend a helping hand. As a first step,
1. we can ask them to put up a board at the entrance listing our the persons responsible for the day to day running of the organization along with their contact nos.
2. Form a committee of likeminded citizens willing to volunteer and be a part of the day to day administration or at least in important policy decisions.
3. Let’s make it very clear that the accountability of tax payers’money is of paramount importance and that it has to reach the purpose for which it was intended for, till the last paise.
4. The committee on its own, or with the management of these institution can have regular meetings to discuss the spending, canvass for donations etc. In fact, the involvement of right kind of people would effortlessly bring in the much required funds too.
The list is endless. This is only a beginning. We can’t afford to be complacent anymore and that we owe it to the Gen next. To quote Swami Vivekanada “ Arise, Awake….
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Do we really care???
On a monday morning, precisely at 6 am, I opened the door to my “Bhai”, the lady who came in to make rotis for our lunch everyday and the newspaper boy thrust the newspaper in my hand. Balancing a cup of coffee in one hand and the newspaper on the other, my eyes quickly scanned through the headlines.” Another case of malnutrition”, this time at a govt run orphanage. The picture of the malnourished children, with their distended stomachs, puny limbs and bulging hungry eyes stared at me. My coffee refused to go in. No,this was not the first time, I was reading such news. But somehow a rage simmered and boiled inside me. Such cold blooded apathy of the Administrators! I quickly read through the article, but decided this was the last time, I was going to keep quiet about this!
With a heavy heart, I told my bhai to make two rotis less, threw the coffee in the sink and began to think. The apathy of the administrators affected me so deeply, I began to think, what I , as a common citizen , an honest taxpayer could do about this??? After all, it is my money too!!. I called up my friends, one a journalist and another a lawyer. Both of them gave me a patient hearing, but excused themselves for the day and we promised to meet up during the weekend.
My rage refused to settle down. This was not like how you look through the many beggars you pass on your way to office, mostly without a second glance. These were hungry children, severely malnourished, not because the government did not provide for them , but some corrupt heartless fellow had stolen it right from their hungry mouths.I racked my brains, this shocking apathy towards corruption had to end!!!
I looked at the time to realize it was half past eight, I had already missed by usual train to Chruchgate. I remembered we had audit going on in the office and I had to be there. I called up my boss to inform about my late arrival. Then it struck me, “AUDIT” That’s what we , each one of us should do?? Just as Audit sees how each penny has been spent, we taxpayers should see how our money is being spent??? Slowly the idea loomed large and I quickly noted down.
But that’s for the next blog. But, yes, I am convinced, this is what we should do, a CITIZENS” AUDIT”. Will let you in on the finer details later.
With a heavy heart, I told my bhai to make two rotis less, threw the coffee in the sink and began to think. The apathy of the administrators affected me so deeply, I began to think, what I , as a common citizen , an honest taxpayer could do about this??? After all, it is my money too!!. I called up my friends, one a journalist and another a lawyer. Both of them gave me a patient hearing, but excused themselves for the day and we promised to meet up during the weekend.
My rage refused to settle down. This was not like how you look through the many beggars you pass on your way to office, mostly without a second glance. These were hungry children, severely malnourished, not because the government did not provide for them , but some corrupt heartless fellow had stolen it right from their hungry mouths.I racked my brains, this shocking apathy towards corruption had to end!!!
I looked at the time to realize it was half past eight, I had already missed by usual train to Chruchgate. I remembered we had audit going on in the office and I had to be there. I called up my boss to inform about my late arrival. Then it struck me, “AUDIT” That’s what we , each one of us should do?? Just as Audit sees how each penny has been spent, we taxpayers should see how our money is being spent??? Slowly the idea loomed large and I quickly noted down.
But that’s for the next blog. But, yes, I am convinced, this is what we should do, a CITIZENS” AUDIT”. Will let you in on the finer details later.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Bandh- Novel ways to protest:
Now that the pros and cons of observing/ enforcing a bandh have been debated upon and having arrived at a unanimous decision (almost!!!) that it is a necessary evil, here are some ways to make it interesting and entertaining. But of course, the form of protest would depend on what you are protesting against:
a). Protesting against increase in fuel prices: Instead of sitting at home and making it easier for the government that subjected you to this hike, why not walk to work??? I am talking especially in Mumbai’s context, where people from far flung suburbs like badlapur, Kalyan, Virar or Panvel who have their own bhajan mandlis in the local trains. They can take to the roads , sing in their loudest volume with their dol and other accompaniments. The rest of us can join in.. The suburban train service of Mumbai transports 48 lakhs passengers daily. Imagine what a great time we can all have, if we all take to the roads. It would be almost like 26th July 2005, but without knee deep water or even better, Mumbai’s own Kumbh Mela . To make things merrier, we can hire the biggest band playing popular hits of bollywood.
b) Protest against rise in veggie prices: Vegetable prices have gone through the roof with the humble sooran selling at Rs.120/= per kilo. The same sooran that we used to take out from under the soil in our native place and cut and gave it who ever would care to have it! For once, we can switch to the healthy option by munching on leaves. If all of us carried a bunch of leaves in our hands and munched it while walking on our way to office, wouldn’t be a green Mumbai,(atleast to watch!) Oh, the TV news people will have a field day “Breaking News”.
c)Auto and cabbie strike: Here again , you have two options, you can book those bullock carts available in villages of Kasara, Igatpuri or some such villages or hire the prettiest victorias that you get to see in Marine drive. Those having bigger pets can walk them too. Needless to say, Mumbaikars will breathe easy that day!!!
So ways are many, one only has to use one’s imagination to make it interesting, but never, never sit at home on a bandh day. Anyway, by 6 pm things would be normal, and you can always come back comfortably. And whether the Government takes note of it or not, Gandhiji and his greatest fan Munnabhai will surely appreciate it??!!
Sujatha Natraj
Now that the pros and cons of observing/ enforcing a bandh have been debated upon and having arrived at a unanimous decision (almost!!!) that it is a necessary evil, here are some ways to make it interesting and entertaining. But of course, the form of protest would depend on what you are protesting against:
a). Protesting against increase in fuel prices: Instead of sitting at home and making it easier for the government that subjected you to this hike, why not walk to work??? I am talking especially in Mumbai’s context, where people from far flung suburbs like badlapur, Kalyan, Virar or Panvel who have their own bhajan mandlis in the local trains. They can take to the roads , sing in their loudest volume with their dol and other accompaniments. The rest of us can join in.. The suburban train service of Mumbai transports 48 lakhs passengers daily. Imagine what a great time we can all have, if we all take to the roads. It would be almost like 26th July 2005, but without knee deep water or even better, Mumbai’s own Kumbh Mela . To make things merrier, we can hire the biggest band playing popular hits of bollywood.
b) Protest against rise in veggie prices: Vegetable prices have gone through the roof with the humble sooran selling at Rs.120/= per kilo. The same sooran that we used to take out from under the soil in our native place and cut and gave it who ever would care to have it! For once, we can switch to the healthy option by munching on leaves. If all of us carried a bunch of leaves in our hands and munched it while walking on our way to office, wouldn’t be a green Mumbai,(atleast to watch!) Oh, the TV news people will have a field day “Breaking News”.
c)Auto and cabbie strike: Here again , you have two options, you can book those bullock carts available in villages of Kasara, Igatpuri or some such villages or hire the prettiest victorias that you get to see in Marine drive. Those having bigger pets can walk them too. Needless to say, Mumbaikars will breathe easy that day!!!
So ways are many, one only has to use one’s imagination to make it interesting, but never, never sit at home on a bandh day. Anyway, by 6 pm things would be normal, and you can always come back comfortably. And whether the Government takes note of it or not, Gandhiji and his greatest fan Munnabhai will surely appreciate it??!!
Sujatha Natraj
Sunday, July 11, 2010
FULL CIRCLE
FULL CIRCLE
“ I am not going to wear that hideous thing you got me for my birthday”, my daughter shouted at the top of her voice, simultaneously bursting into tears”. For God’s sake, I am eighteen and you expect me to wear that” she made an awful face..I couldn’t believe it, the dress I had chosen was a baby pink top, with a little frill around the cuffs and some pretty embroidery at the neck. There was a knee length corduroy skirt to go with it. I had thought it was perfect. Mom, when are you going to realize that I am A GROWN UP NOW! she started again, . That was the last straw,” Grown up! My foot! Then Act like one!!!, " I said aloud before realizing it and stomped out of the room.
I pulled some clothes from the cupboard, called up hubby dear and informed him that for the next couple of days, I will be out and the family ,( one son included) will be taken care by our “GROWN UP” daughter. I Rang my mother and she picked up in the second ring, Yes, dear, how are you? Has it started raining in Mumbai? I answered all her questions, "How is Adit doing? Is Rhea getting a tattoo for her birthday? And told her quietly, “Ma, I am planning to come down to Pune for a few days”.”I, but what about Ram, Rhea and Adit??" my bmother asked, Oh, they will come later, may be to pick me up, I said lamely and ended the conversation.
This was the first time I was running away from a fight, but recently my daughter and me had been having too many arguments, her dress, her friends, her mobile bills, the kind of TV shows she watched.We never seemed to agree on anything these days. She seemed to resent my advise. Ram was still the pampering papa, mainly quiet and non interfereing, never confrontative! Naturally, I ended up being the villain!
The moment I got down from the rickshaw, I saw my mother waiting eagerly for me at the door. I was not going to tell her anything, atleast not yet. She had prepared my favourite curry and after dinner, we sat on the patio talking about all and sundry. As the clock struck ten, I said” Ma, I am feeling tired” let’s go in”.
Next day, Ma woke me up with her special filter coffee, the aroma of which made my mouth water. As I sipped the coffee , I thought about my mother, staying all alone in the modest bungalow, that our daddy had built. She refused to shift to Mumbai “ I am happy where I am, I have this house, lots of memories to live by. And I do have some friends here” . So don’t worry about me, Yes, you all come whenever you can”, she would say.
I finished the coffee and went in search of my mother. Ma, could you please oil my hair?? I miss your oil massage before the ritual oil bath on Tuesdays and FriDAYS”.She smiled mischievously and said “ Oh! But I thought you hated oil in your hair”, Remember, how we used to fight over this oil bath? I smiled sheepishly and said Ma, that was then and this is now”. She said slowly “ Beta, that’s always how things are”.
I realized I had not called home. I wanted to find out how my “grown up” daughter was managing the home front. So I called my husband on his mobile, Hey, how are things? “Oh they are fine! He said nonchalantly”. What are you all having for breakfast” I asked again? Rhea is making something, I can smell something divine in the kitchen”, my husband added, I couldn’t believe it. “Did she clean up the kitchen last night”? I asked , not for one second believing she would have done it.”Hm..u know, we all, sort of chipped in, bye now, call u later” .
For the rest of the day, I relaxed, and later in the afternoon, after a leisurely lunch, I saw my mother cleaning out the wardrobe. I sat beside her, helping her fold sarees, exclaiming over the zari and embroidery. My dad had an eclectic taste and she had a fine collection of chiffon, mysore crepes and kancheevarams. Sadly, these days, she wore very few of them. Sometimes, she would urge me to take some, but I did not have the heart to take those away from her. I knew how much sentiments were attached to it. They were all bought by my father on his trips to various parts of India on official duty.
When we were almost done, I saw a a small pack of clothes, neatly tucked away behind the bottom shelf. I remembered, it was my shelf and asked my mom, “ Mom, what is that on my shelf”? Oh, dear, that, these were the salwar kameez and and some tops, which we had bought for you and you didn’t like it and refused to wear it”, Since we had bought it from Delhi, we couldn’t exchange and get something which you liked”. I took out the pack guiltily and rummaged through it. There were three in all and they were not bad at all. Infact, I had to admit, they even looked nice. I remembered the incident vaguely, I had said that I hated the sight of it, and my parents, they just put the clothes away, wanting not to spoil my birthday. Instead, they had taken me out and bought a dress of my choice.
Once again, I thought about the difference in the way I had handled such a situation, and how my parents had! Feeling strangely remorseful, I blurted out to my mother what had transpired between me and Rhea. “Oh!, she gave me an innocent look, “Rhea already called me and told about it. She said you must have been terribly upset otherwise you wouldn’t have dashed off to Pune without saying bye to her”. "Preethi,Dear, my mom said gently,” Rhea will be just fine, she is a good child, not to worry?”Why don’t you both make up?I am sure she will come around"
But in my heart of hearts I justified my behaviour. Those days, we wore proper bell bottoms, not the form fitting jeans worn inches below the navel or the spaghetti tops ending above the navel. Yes, in many ways, I was still old fashioned at heart. We finished with the wardrobe and I set out to the kitchen to make coffee for us. As the coffee was brewing, my mind worked furiously, going through the not so infrequent arguments , I seem to be having with my daughter these days. In my heart of hearts, I wanted her to come and apologise, but knew, she being my daughter, would never do so..
We sat sipping the coffee in the patio, with the cool evening breeze blowing. I particularly liked this time of the day, the sun about to set, painting its canvas a vivid red with streaks of orange, and the golden glow, settling on the swing in the patio. A strange calm settled over me. In that moment, I decided what I would do, Call my husband and kids over and have a long chat with my daughter in the presence of my mother. I remembered the happier times when she was a quiet soft spoken child,very unlike this rebel. I promised myself we could come to a mutual understanding about her friends, her clothes, her phone bills etc etc.
I heard a car screeching to a halt and looked up and was surprised to see my daughter getting down with a sheepish smile and coming towards me., she put her arms around my hips and hugged me tight.” Mom, I am sorry, but I didn’t mean it that way. Anyways, we miss you and we have come to take you home and nani too, if she would come and stay with us for a few days, yes.. nani???? As if , any mom could resist that, I hugged her back. and turned just in time to see my husband grinning and showing a thumbs up sign to my mother.
Sujatha Natraj
“ I am not going to wear that hideous thing you got me for my birthday”, my daughter shouted at the top of her voice, simultaneously bursting into tears”. For God’s sake, I am eighteen and you expect me to wear that” she made an awful face..I couldn’t believe it, the dress I had chosen was a baby pink top, with a little frill around the cuffs and some pretty embroidery at the neck. There was a knee length corduroy skirt to go with it. I had thought it was perfect. Mom, when are you going to realize that I am A GROWN UP NOW! she started again, . That was the last straw,” Grown up! My foot! Then Act like one!!!, " I said aloud before realizing it and stomped out of the room.
I pulled some clothes from the cupboard, called up hubby dear and informed him that for the next couple of days, I will be out and the family ,( one son included) will be taken care by our “GROWN UP” daughter. I Rang my mother and she picked up in the second ring, Yes, dear, how are you? Has it started raining in Mumbai? I answered all her questions, "How is Adit doing? Is Rhea getting a tattoo for her birthday? And told her quietly, “Ma, I am planning to come down to Pune for a few days”.”I, but what about Ram, Rhea and Adit??" my bmother asked, Oh, they will come later, may be to pick me up, I said lamely and ended the conversation.
This was the first time I was running away from a fight, but recently my daughter and me had been having too many arguments, her dress, her friends, her mobile bills, the kind of TV shows she watched.We never seemed to agree on anything these days. She seemed to resent my advise. Ram was still the pampering papa, mainly quiet and non interfereing, never confrontative! Naturally, I ended up being the villain!
The moment I got down from the rickshaw, I saw my mother waiting eagerly for me at the door. I was not going to tell her anything, atleast not yet. She had prepared my favourite curry and after dinner, we sat on the patio talking about all and sundry. As the clock struck ten, I said” Ma, I am feeling tired” let’s go in”.
Next day, Ma woke me up with her special filter coffee, the aroma of which made my mouth water. As I sipped the coffee , I thought about my mother, staying all alone in the modest bungalow, that our daddy had built. She refused to shift to Mumbai “ I am happy where I am, I have this house, lots of memories to live by. And I do have some friends here” . So don’t worry about me, Yes, you all come whenever you can”, she would say.
I finished the coffee and went in search of my mother. Ma, could you please oil my hair?? I miss your oil massage before the ritual oil bath on Tuesdays and FriDAYS”.She smiled mischievously and said “ Oh! But I thought you hated oil in your hair”, Remember, how we used to fight over this oil bath? I smiled sheepishly and said Ma, that was then and this is now”. She said slowly “ Beta, that’s always how things are”.
I realized I had not called home. I wanted to find out how my “grown up” daughter was managing the home front. So I called my husband on his mobile, Hey, how are things? “Oh they are fine! He said nonchalantly”. What are you all having for breakfast” I asked again? Rhea is making something, I can smell something divine in the kitchen”, my husband added, I couldn’t believe it. “Did she clean up the kitchen last night”? I asked , not for one second believing she would have done it.”Hm..u know, we all, sort of chipped in, bye now, call u later” .
For the rest of the day, I relaxed, and later in the afternoon, after a leisurely lunch, I saw my mother cleaning out the wardrobe. I sat beside her, helping her fold sarees, exclaiming over the zari and embroidery. My dad had an eclectic taste and she had a fine collection of chiffon, mysore crepes and kancheevarams. Sadly, these days, she wore very few of them. Sometimes, she would urge me to take some, but I did not have the heart to take those away from her. I knew how much sentiments were attached to it. They were all bought by my father on his trips to various parts of India on official duty.
When we were almost done, I saw a a small pack of clothes, neatly tucked away behind the bottom shelf. I remembered, it was my shelf and asked my mom, “ Mom, what is that on my shelf”? Oh, dear, that, these were the salwar kameez and and some tops, which we had bought for you and you didn’t like it and refused to wear it”, Since we had bought it from Delhi, we couldn’t exchange and get something which you liked”. I took out the pack guiltily and rummaged through it. There were three in all and they were not bad at all. Infact, I had to admit, they even looked nice. I remembered the incident vaguely, I had said that I hated the sight of it, and my parents, they just put the clothes away, wanting not to spoil my birthday. Instead, they had taken me out and bought a dress of my choice.
Once again, I thought about the difference in the way I had handled such a situation, and how my parents had! Feeling strangely remorseful, I blurted out to my mother what had transpired between me and Rhea. “Oh!, she gave me an innocent look, “Rhea already called me and told about it. She said you must have been terribly upset otherwise you wouldn’t have dashed off to Pune without saying bye to her”. "Preethi,Dear, my mom said gently,” Rhea will be just fine, she is a good child, not to worry?”Why don’t you both make up?I am sure she will come around"
But in my heart of hearts I justified my behaviour. Those days, we wore proper bell bottoms, not the form fitting jeans worn inches below the navel or the spaghetti tops ending above the navel. Yes, in many ways, I was still old fashioned at heart. We finished with the wardrobe and I set out to the kitchen to make coffee for us. As the coffee was brewing, my mind worked furiously, going through the not so infrequent arguments , I seem to be having with my daughter these days. In my heart of hearts, I wanted her to come and apologise, but knew, she being my daughter, would never do so..
We sat sipping the coffee in the patio, with the cool evening breeze blowing. I particularly liked this time of the day, the sun about to set, painting its canvas a vivid red with streaks of orange, and the golden glow, settling on the swing in the patio. A strange calm settled over me. In that moment, I decided what I would do, Call my husband and kids over and have a long chat with my daughter in the presence of my mother. I remembered the happier times when she was a quiet soft spoken child,very unlike this rebel. I promised myself we could come to a mutual understanding about her friends, her clothes, her phone bills etc etc.
I heard a car screeching to a halt and looked up and was surprised to see my daughter getting down with a sheepish smile and coming towards me., she put her arms around my hips and hugged me tight.” Mom, I am sorry, but I didn’t mean it that way. Anyways, we miss you and we have come to take you home and nani too, if she would come and stay with us for a few days, yes.. nani???? As if , any mom could resist that, I hugged her back. and turned just in time to see my husband grinning and showing a thumbs up sign to my mother.
Sujatha Natraj
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Ever remember hurting others????
On a lazy sunday morning, while leafing through old albums, particularly of my school and college days, I found that I could identify some of my classmates very easily and even remember their names and surnames, others I could vaguely recollect and some not even their names. The ones whom I remembered very clearly, I found myself associating them with some incidents both joyful, or arguments which ended in quarrels or the times when we had shared a good laugh (Mostly at others' expense, I must confess).
Some incidents or occasions were more vivid and those were the times when I was deeply hurt by somebody's words or actions. The thought still hurtme, "How could she say that to me"? or he should not have behaved like this"? I closed the album, lest it spoilt the whole day.
But the thoughts stayed with me, especially the incidents, when my best friend of 8 years stopped talking to me for some silly reason.(Those days it did not seem silly at all!!). I ruminated over some other incidents when I had been "victimised" for no fault of mine.
But suddenly, I found asking myself, "why this self pity? Have you never ever hurt others by your words, actions?? Or you don't want to remember it???"
Over the years in our life, we always tend to remember how others have hurts us, but never, never, how we hurt them. Isn't this because we never learnt to forgive and never forgave????
Having found the answer, I made a mental note to write to my best friend whom I had not talked to for over twelve years, I know she will understand!! Surely, she too must have grown up!!!
Sujatha Natraj
Some incidents or occasions were more vivid and those were the times when I was deeply hurt by somebody's words or actions. The thought still hurtme, "How could she say that to me"? or he should not have behaved like this"? I closed the album, lest it spoilt the whole day.
But the thoughts stayed with me, especially the incidents, when my best friend of 8 years stopped talking to me for some silly reason.(Those days it did not seem silly at all!!). I ruminated over some other incidents when I had been "victimised" for no fault of mine.
But suddenly, I found asking myself, "why this self pity? Have you never ever hurt others by your words, actions?? Or you don't want to remember it???"
Over the years in our life, we always tend to remember how others have hurts us, but never, never, how we hurt them. Isn't this because we never learnt to forgive and never forgave????
Having found the answer, I made a mental note to write to my best friend whom I had not talked to for over twelve years, I know she will understand!! Surely, she too must have grown up!!!
Sujatha Natraj
Saturday, July 3, 2010
PROCRASTINATION
Procrastination:
My first introduction to this word was when I was in the 9th standard. The moment my History teacher threw this word at me chiding me for the delay in submission of my history journal, I became strangely attached to it. Of course, I didn’t know the meaning of the word then and had to come home and look it up in the dictionary. Her words were” “Procrastinating the inevitable” or something sounding very similar to that. I loved the word And more so her expression when she said it – something between a smirk, or you have to come to me with the journal before your exams sort of look. I hated to even think of writing out long boring pages in the journal of who killed whom in which battle, after effects of Industrial Revolution in France, blah, blah. I couldn’t imagine for one second why anyone would even be remotely interested in things which happened ages ago…I even though it as grave digging… purely disgusting!!!
Before I realized, the word as well as the habit… yes ,Procrastinating had got to me. Now it was the washing, a visit to a dentist or even to a relative’s house. My parents and sibling called me plain lazy, or laid back, but I was dreading the correct diagnosis, I knew in my heart of hearts, that it was PROCRASTINATION, in capital letters. After all , teachers can never be wrong, can they??? The more I brooded about it, the more anxious I became. Stacks of journals and heaps of dirty clothes gave me nightmares!!
Through out my college years , I managed to submit my journals at the last moment, complete the assignments just in time to save the grades and I became more and more aware of my PROCRASTINATING ways. But the silver lining in the cloud of procrastination was, when I enjoyed or liked doing something, I did it the fastest, like watering my plants, talking to them, baking cake for my mom’s birthday and ironing for the entire family. Sadly these were a few!!!
As a newly wed, I went through the initial hiccups , mainly due to my procrastinating ways .But my better half , bless him, turned out to be this super efficient, chivalrous guy, who did not mind sharing more than his share of chores. In his own ways, he would say, ‘ Don’t like to do this”? fine, I “ll do it, Any why I would I want to miss your cooking” and he would quietly take over the wash or the accounts of the home front.
Today, years have gone by, I am still lazy or laid back or I even procrastinate, But I make it clear that I Just don’t like doing it, But definitely wouldn’t mind doing something else instead. Needless to say, these days life is a song that I hum!!!
My first introduction to this word was when I was in the 9th standard. The moment my History teacher threw this word at me chiding me for the delay in submission of my history journal, I became strangely attached to it. Of course, I didn’t know the meaning of the word then and had to come home and look it up in the dictionary. Her words were” “Procrastinating the inevitable” or something sounding very similar to that. I loved the word And more so her expression when she said it – something between a smirk, or you have to come to me with the journal before your exams sort of look. I hated to even think of writing out long boring pages in the journal of who killed whom in which battle, after effects of Industrial Revolution in France, blah, blah. I couldn’t imagine for one second why anyone would even be remotely interested in things which happened ages ago…I even though it as grave digging… purely disgusting!!!
Before I realized, the word as well as the habit… yes ,Procrastinating had got to me. Now it was the washing, a visit to a dentist or even to a relative’s house. My parents and sibling called me plain lazy, or laid back, but I was dreading the correct diagnosis, I knew in my heart of hearts, that it was PROCRASTINATION, in capital letters. After all , teachers can never be wrong, can they??? The more I brooded about it, the more anxious I became. Stacks of journals and heaps of dirty clothes gave me nightmares!!
Through out my college years , I managed to submit my journals at the last moment, complete the assignments just in time to save the grades and I became more and more aware of my PROCRASTINATING ways. But the silver lining in the cloud of procrastination was, when I enjoyed or liked doing something, I did it the fastest, like watering my plants, talking to them, baking cake for my mom’s birthday and ironing for the entire family. Sadly these were a few!!!
As a newly wed, I went through the initial hiccups , mainly due to my procrastinating ways .But my better half , bless him, turned out to be this super efficient, chivalrous guy, who did not mind sharing more than his share of chores. In his own ways, he would say, ‘ Don’t like to do this”? fine, I “ll do it, Any why I would I want to miss your cooking” and he would quietly take over the wash or the accounts of the home front.
Today, years have gone by, I am still lazy or laid back or I even procrastinate, But I make it clear that I Just don’t like doing it, But definitely wouldn’t mind doing something else instead. Needless to say, these days life is a song that I hum!!!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Tryst with immortality
TRYST WITH IMMORTALITY
I must have been around 4 or five years old when I first noticed peoples’ fascination for immortality. My mother, amidst her kitchen chores wished me Good morning darling!” and thrust a steel tumbler full of milk at me and said “Hurry up!!! There’s a good boy!!”I was then just learning to read typical sentences with three letter words like “What is on the mat? The cat is on the mat” etc which I would join with great difficulty but finish reading with such pride!!! And my mother, she would beam at me for having accomplished such a big task. Now, coming to the steel tumbler, what fascinated me early that morning was ‘By “Vasantha Hari”. So far, I had seen words in my books only and started wondering why anyone would write in steel tumblers???.
I finished the milk soon (lest I might spill it and get scolded for it) and ran to my mother and asked her to join the letters for me. She read out the word, rather the name on it and said Oh! This is the steel tumbler gifted by Vasantha aunty when you were a small baby! And she offered an “explanation” for it, Darling! She wanted you to remember her even when you grow old!! Thus began my fascination with peoples’ fascination for their tryst with immortality. As I grew older, this fascination of mine grew proportionately. I would go to temples, community halls, churches, schools libraries just to read out the names of donors on the board. Some times the donors themselves would advertise “Donated by…”. Or It would be in the “loving memory of our beloved mother…” And the amounts would be anything around Rs.25,000 or above.
Here I must confess, this habit of mine caused quite an embarrassment to my wife , who would look at me pitifully and say “Oh God! Not again”!! And sometimes straightaway refuse to come with me to places where there was bound to be a big donors’ list.
All the time my mind would think what would anybody gain by advertising their good deeds, or is it to inspire other people to “give” as much as they can and as much as they should? Or is it the need to remain immortal by etching their names at every conceivable place ? Invariably my mind would turn to an old friend of mine who so strongly believes in “ a good word, a good thought and a good deed a day. There were many a days when he would give away his lunch to some hungry person, there were times when he quietly paid the fees of his servant maid’s children, donated blood whenever he knew someone was in need and the list goes on!!! No, he is by no means a rich man, just an ordinary common “middle class man” with a strong sense of values. Most of these, we would come to know much later, when the person whom he helped would gratefully acknowledge him.
Now I almost came to a conclusion that only rich people advertise their good deeds in their quest for immortality and what better way to show off to their peers “See if you could give this much, see how much I can give!!! While lost in contemplation of this trivia, and strongly deciding never to advertise if and when I do a good deed, my wife called out” My dear! The temple committee has come for collection for their social activities. Those who pay Rs.5000 and above get a mention in the souvenir .Shall I pay 5001 /=” ????
S Natrajan
I must have been around 4 or five years old when I first noticed peoples’ fascination for immortality. My mother, amidst her kitchen chores wished me Good morning darling!” and thrust a steel tumbler full of milk at me and said “Hurry up!!! There’s a good boy!!”I was then just learning to read typical sentences with three letter words like “What is on the mat? The cat is on the mat” etc which I would join with great difficulty but finish reading with such pride!!! And my mother, she would beam at me for having accomplished such a big task. Now, coming to the steel tumbler, what fascinated me early that morning was ‘By “Vasantha Hari”. So far, I had seen words in my books only and started wondering why anyone would write in steel tumblers???.
I finished the milk soon (lest I might spill it and get scolded for it) and ran to my mother and asked her to join the letters for me. She read out the word, rather the name on it and said Oh! This is the steel tumbler gifted by Vasantha aunty when you were a small baby! And she offered an “explanation” for it, Darling! She wanted you to remember her even when you grow old!! Thus began my fascination with peoples’ fascination for their tryst with immortality. As I grew older, this fascination of mine grew proportionately. I would go to temples, community halls, churches, schools libraries just to read out the names of donors on the board. Some times the donors themselves would advertise “Donated by…”. Or It would be in the “loving memory of our beloved mother…” And the amounts would be anything around Rs.25,000 or above.
Here I must confess, this habit of mine caused quite an embarrassment to my wife , who would look at me pitifully and say “Oh God! Not again”!! And sometimes straightaway refuse to come with me to places where there was bound to be a big donors’ list.
All the time my mind would think what would anybody gain by advertising their good deeds, or is it to inspire other people to “give” as much as they can and as much as they should? Or is it the need to remain immortal by etching their names at every conceivable place ? Invariably my mind would turn to an old friend of mine who so strongly believes in “ a good word, a good thought and a good deed a day. There were many a days when he would give away his lunch to some hungry person, there were times when he quietly paid the fees of his servant maid’s children, donated blood whenever he knew someone was in need and the list goes on!!! No, he is by no means a rich man, just an ordinary common “middle class man” with a strong sense of values. Most of these, we would come to know much later, when the person whom he helped would gratefully acknowledge him.
Now I almost came to a conclusion that only rich people advertise their good deeds in their quest for immortality and what better way to show off to their peers “See if you could give this much, see how much I can give!!! While lost in contemplation of this trivia, and strongly deciding never to advertise if and when I do a good deed, my wife called out” My dear! The temple committee has come for collection for their social activities. Those who pay Rs.5000 and above get a mention in the souvenir .Shall I pay 5001 /=” ????
S Natrajan
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