Romance through years

“I fell in and out of love with every girl in my village during my late teenage years. But those days a boy and girl never spoke to each other. “

The above lines are by the hero from one of RKNarayanan’ s short stories, if my memory serves me right.

So, can it not be true for a girl to be in and out of love with boys in various stages of her life?

I Reena(name changed) can say that I was one of the above. Today being a mature 25 and married to Mr. Handsome, I can be classified as “happily married”. My loving companion is on a tour, so for want of anything else to do, I go on a nostalgic journey of my little loves. My first romance was during the ‘primary school’ years. This means till you are 11 or 12 years old. Although not much remains in the form of memory, I remember this boy with dimples and a cute mop of hair. He was my little hero. I felt we suited each other on two issues, both of us short in height and both skinny. It left me in tears each time the teachers changed our places in class but never made him sit next to me. I hoped each year that the next class I go to, I would sit next to him. But it was not to be. So my admiration for him was from a distance. To tell the truth, I don't remember him looking at me even once. I know I agonised over that. Then one day I noticed his palms. He had skin peeling off them in round white patches. On top of that, they were very sweaty too. If I remember right, there ended my romance during primary school. All my years were wasted I thought. I should have looked at his hands earlier, wherein I could have transferred my attention to the next cute boy there was.

Well after this sad story, I moved on to ‘high school’. This is where you spend the first half of your teenage life. All of us girls, maybe the boys too were proud that we were all grown up to go alone by public transport or bicycles to school. No more being shepherded into school buses I thought. Some of us had younger siblings, who were forced to put up with our pride that we were now different and superior to them. The environment, classmates, teachers were totally new but it took me a very short time to fix the love of my life. Actually I think there were two handsome boys and I would switch my affections from one to the other. This depended on who was in the line of my ‘sideways vision’. I will explain this. The class was divided into two rows. Girls were seated in one and boys in the other. The side glances could only bring a few bodies into one's sight. So when we changed places which was mandatory, only one of them would remain in my sideways vision. Another very important point was that girls were too shy to even look directly at 'that row’. In my heart I hoped they would sense my silent affection although I didn't think what I would do if someone told me something in the nature of “I like you”.The mills & boon romantic novels fuelled our imagination that there will be romance one day. Then one day I caught one of my hero glancing secretly again and again at a beautiful classmate of mine. His betrayal made me curse him and I told him to go to hell, mentally of course. My high school years gradually ended and the tragedy of my primary school continued.

Now the next stage was set. We 15 and 16 year olds were stepping out of school and entering undergraduate “college”. I was finally rid of my uniforms. But faltered & blundered with my dressing, although this realization is an afterthought, 10 years late. My assumption that I was glamorous enough to hook a line of boys turned out to be too far-fetched. I managed to catch the eye of a mad fellow who followed and frightened half the girls in class. Finally we heard that after he had turned his attention to an influential father's daughter, he was put in jail.

There were such a large number of boys and girls in class and in the entire college that it was like a confusing kaleidoscope. Suddenly the boys were all so tall that even if I courageously looked, it would be at the flared bottom of their bell-bottom pants. Moreover we girls were advised of the ‘keep boys at arm's length rule’. This was also an age when the boys looked their ugliest, to me. But we girls thought that we were very attractive as we were in our sweet teens. Maybe it was only in our homes we were regarded so. According to many of us,there was thus only one way, the girl would have to be wooed by a love struck boy. But ‘arms length’ turned out to be a very great distance and difficult to cross for them that they only resorted to staring (they had become brave enough and crossed the glance line). So then, the two years turned out to be uneventful and overdressed except for some stray cases of a brave boy approaching a ‘mod’ girl only to be told off. Girls turned their attention to the new entrant, a box in our lives. The television programs where we got to see men too courageously in the proximity of our homes but at a safe distance too. 

My line of thought is cut short as my dutiful husband checks to see if everything is fine with me. He was not satisfied with the dreamy response but said bye. I shall stop at this juncture to maybe continue the remaining 7 or 8 years of romance. 

Lights Beckon

Image via Flickr : https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3201/3145278394_4b2bc1c620_n.jpg

Games are over

friends gone.

Anticipating night,

twilight switches on

Heavy the air

With unknown fare.

Patch of light from
wooden pole with bulb alone.
Insects swirl
around its pate,
drawn to its glare
in a frenetic way.

Wings soon scorched
tar below beckons,
writhing body
later dead.

A warning to beware
of lights a glare?
If at all blinded
become not shrouded.

Can be taken as a story of the flies we used to see on bulbs. They would fly close to the light after dark. in the morning all that would remain were the wings on the road. The fleshy part being eaten by other prey and even collected by neighbours who would cook it.

Can also be interpreted in a way we Indians grow up with sayings about treading carefully in life especially when attracted to flashy, attractive things and circumstances

My post in Sulekha  http://creative.sulekha.com/lights-beckon_472294_blog

Atop an Antenna

Image via Flickr :
https://farm3.staticflickr.com/2898/14561831200_3a14f052e0_n.jpg

“Why do you cry your heart out?’ I ask of the Parrot that sits at the top of an antenna opposite my flat. I began noticing this cry about two weeks ago. Initially, I used to hear a squawking every evening. One day after straining my eyes out of the window, I saw this bright green, beautiful bird. To me even his first sounds seemed like a painful cry. I say this because I have heard the high pitched excited screeching of a flock of Parrots flying near the house many times to know the difference. They used to dive, glide, chase each other and make plenty of noise.

But this lonely majestic bird sounded lost. I would say this to him….

Why do you cry, little one
 painfully cry
A call to your partner
 Loud and clear ?
She whom death tore
Away from you or..
Your bonds having come off
 You don’t know what to do.

Why do you come, when
dawn is new
Crying out, for me to
 Listen to you
I fail to bring relief
 For you,
Even though you daily
 Remind me to.
Oh handsome one!
 What do I do?
Who else is there
 To hear you plead

I wish to hear, no more
 Tomorrow,
Hoping you have
 Lost your sorrow.
But call out anew, afresh,
 On every morn that dawns.
Live. Dear one,
 Let strength return
In your hidden heart
 That throbs and burns

(As he sits on the silent steel, he does not know that they just receive signals and do not transmit them. Wish they did.)

This poem of mine was posted in :http://creative.sulekha.com/atop-an-antenna_472288_blog

The scared Little Girl

The little girl could not sleep. She did not know why. Everyone in the house was fast asleep. The dogs' howling did not scare her. In fact the sounds calmed her as she knew they were dogs. Even during day, when many of her friends screamed or stood in fright on seeing a dog, she calmly walked past as if knowing by instinct that keeping calm was the best thing to do. But tonight like many nights; she slept still as, if shifting even slightly would bring the focus of the face at the window on her. She slyly squinted one eye and tried to focus into the darkness through the windows. Now she was sure no one was there, but then again there was a doubt. So she quickly shut her eyes and sometime must have fallen asleep as she heard her mother shout out from the kitchen to wake up and get ready for school. Some days she mustered the courage to close the window but it did not help much. She still could see a man. Sometimes with a moustache and sometimes not. The glass distorted the face and it looked disgusting. For some periods during the year, a mosquito net was draped over the bed in protection against mosquitoes obviously, but the little girl was not free from the man at the window. The net only made her squint harder to check if the monster man was there. Sounds of leaves, wind or rain did not chase this obstinate man away. Sometimes she shivered in fright under the blanket. Going to the bathroom required a great deal of courage and her eyes would be fixed on the tiny windows all the time. But she thought she was lucky as the face never appeared in her bathroom window. As she grew, she started assuring herself that the face was imagination after all. She sometimes rebuked herself for having been such a stupid. Once in a way, she would bravely go to the window and look out nervously daring the man to appear. This helped and she could read novels into the night. But there were still times, of the frightening lurch in her heart as she looked at the window. When the lights were out, she would suddenly wake up from sleep with a lingering sense that the man had appeared and had stared at her again.....

BEING INDIAN WITH CHANGING TIMES

Residing in the south of India, we were exposed to a new entrant two years ago in the form of a newspaper. We were soon lured and anticipating novelty combined with low price into subscribing to this age old, established paper. After that, our days changed. We seemed to have a lot to 'debate', as our television hosts love to say.

First of all, an English paper, whether an answer paper for an exam or the daily diet of news, will lose a lot of marks for wrong spelling. So when every page has horrible errors, I leniently cut only 25 marks.

Now let's see from where this paper reaches us. The paper states that it is Coimbatore edition, the exact city where I reside in. What does that mean? I want to hear more about my city and state. But what do I get to read.? Only a rape, murder, accident or chain snatching and an occasional genuine researched article. Unfortunately their ads to promote this new paper turned out to be more creative than the content. Now I have to cut marks for poor choice of content. Maybe 30, as at least the state of Tamilnadu gets a better mention.

There are certain things that I abhor in this daily.

The first one being, the only major headlines(at an eye-catching, top spot with a font size 14 !) in 'global' page will invariably be the love life of some famous or sometimes obscure person from film or television media in a globe which usually has only America in it. It sometimes carries disgusting quotes like 'some lame x would like to sleep with some y, an lmn singer is back with her xyz boyfriend'. Is being obsessive about boyfriends and girlfriends called 'being in tune with the times'?

Then to grind this sort of 'being modern' into the reader, there is another boxed section with a lot more of global private life. For this trash in the main paper, I would give negative marks but that is not usually permitted. So let's leave marking out for this.

There is serious political stuff in its insides if you love to read totally subjective views written  in the name of reporting. For example, During poll campaign for Gujarat elections, the editorial frantically turned into an advisory board  for the Congress party on how to counter the Modi juggernaut. They seem to have taken the 'scion' under their wing, protecting him when he is criticized. Another thing is that, sometimes reporters use vile language to address people who they do not like, which I see as being arrogant.  For all the above issues I will deduct 25.

The paper conveniently sources articles from the Internet and fills in its supplements and Sunday pages. Never mind if it is not relevant or is culturally irrelevant to us ordinary Indians. There are porn actors quotes, diet advice which has fruits like grapefruit,(how many people know what this is? ), kiwis in it.  Is this a paper brought out in India, for Indians you wonder. All through the 2 years, I may have  seen only a countable number of authentic advice given by indigenous professionals, as if there is a dearth of such people in our country. For this 'easy way out' attitude, I will have to cut remaining 20 marks.

To this null score,  I have to add a positive and that is peace of mind I now have after switching to another daily which thankfully is by indians and for Indians like me. I do not even miss the debates, in fact we begin the day with a clear head! 

Moving from D to C

Expanding D to C : Doha to Coimbatore

As preparations to go to the home land for the anual two month vacation drew near, plans changed drastically and it became a shifting of the entire base operations permanently. And so, loading the plane with about 150 kgs of our belongings, we boarded without regret but only anticipation (except for the youngest member of the family who had many a question, also making it clear he would miss many people, places and things) And so, yet another phase of my life closes, only to begin in the land where I was born. The stint in the gulf ends. The IMAX view of the sky has been replaced with a 70mm one. There is no sea here and the various awe inspiring shades of blue and green that was visible from the terrace. The silence that was totally enveloping and round the clock only to be broken by our own activities; has been sacrificed for quiet only at night.

As I write, the background has a variety of sounds. For one, the discussion of some men painting in the neighbouring compound. The horns of all types of vehicles, especially the buses and their running engines come through to the house from the road which is 25feet from the house(luckily). Then there is this constant conversation going on which I am enjoying. It is in varied pitches. First of all I can hear a whistle like constant soft sound over which there are sudden bursts of a cough like noise. Before I carry on, I want to say that these sounds are the chattering of energetic, winged and feathered aves class of vertebrates from the tree whose leaves brush against our balcony. Now the deep and resonant call of the cuckoo on this Gulmohar travels a long way to be returned with a reply and soon the brown spotted male is joined by the black female . The crow which is also squatted on a branch gives his ‘caw , caw’ joining the Myna and the sparrow occasionally, although seated alone and at a distance from them. Today being cloudy and cool, all of these feathered friends seem to be enjoying themselves. I can now hear a scraping sound which I think is the squirrel which seems so busy scampering, pausing and running off. The pigeon which seems happy not to leave the corner of my bathroom window makes his characteristic booming noise.

New sights, sounds, smells will replace almost 4 and a half years in Doha. There will be fresh inspirations, beautiful experiences and challenging adjustments and here I am ready to gain new memories to go alongside the older ones.

I am 10 years old

(A short story for kids)

My age has One and Zero in it. This year(2010) too. I feel they are the two most important numbers. I imagine the number One as straight and single. Single like the One Sun and the One Moon that our One Earth has. It is really unique. Now I’ll tell you what I feel about the Zero. Zero to me also stands for the Sun, the Moon and the Earth. You may wonder how they can be one and zero because zero means nothing. To me they are like the zero as they are all round, hugely round.



I love all the three Ones or Zeroes that I have mentioned. But it still puzzles me that in the vast sky, when the Sun appears, the Moon disappears. But I have seen the Sun and the Moon together sometimes, one to the left and one to the right. Is it like my Mom says, ‘I am the opposite of my brother’? Are they enemies most of the time, I wonder? In my home my one father and my one mother live along with me even though they are enemies sometimes. So I imagine the Sun as the father, Moon as the mother and the many, many stars, their children all sharing a same home which is the sky.


I have not yet spoken about another single, unique, round object. That is the Earth. The pictures taken by astronauts orbiting the earth are all blue with clouds but the globe on my desk shows me new things everyday. There is a big dent on my globe which has made the Americas go into the earth. This dent was caused when my brother and I fought over a football and the ball banged into earth just like a meteor


I ask myself whether I should make Sun and Moon my current heroes as I do not have anybody, although it may sound stupid to my friends. I think I should leave out Moon and only choose Sun, as I feel Moon cannot be trusted. On some nights she is perfectly round, which I love. Then it is like a half eaten biscuit and at other times like a lonely ‘smiley’ mouth. Oh, well! Then I shall make only the Sun my hero. I feel he rules the whole world, unlike the many Presidents and Prime ministers who head only a small part on earth. He is always bright and radiant. I’ll forgive his scorching habit as he is fierce only for two or three months in a year. The clouds, rain or dust sometimes try to overpower him but they fail to drive him away permanently. When he wakes up and passes his wand in all directions, we wake up and when he goes to sleep, in a few hours we also sleep. I have learnt that it is due to him that we have the chlorophyll filled greenery on the earth. As I heard someone say, he helps life to go on. Till I turn eleven next year the One(1), round(O) Sun is my hero, when somebody else may take his place.

Another weather report

Hear I go again. Talking about the weather. Well since it is the most easiest to write on, to deabate, to quarrel over...  . I AM turning into a weather reporter from Doha ;-)

Today morning started off with the 'beginnings of Summer' kind of weather which is going on for 10 days or so. Here in the desert, summer beginning means 30 deg inside the house sans AC. Outside it is 39 deg but feels 39 + 3or4 because of the added humidity. India this year, has been hitting the highs of the temperature chart and breaking records in the process. Relatively, spring has spread her umbrella longer than usual protecting against the harshness of the coming season.

Coming to the surprising element, there has been rain for 51/2 months here. Well ,(There are no wells here, dug ones) there is obviously no monsoon in Doha. It has surprised everyone here that it is raining a few days every month since december. There are clouds in the sky for days together. Sometimes I had this nostalgic feeling of being in Bangalore with these sudden showers, cool breeze and generally cloudy sky.

Today's thunder, lightening and the sudden darkness with the sharp showers again cleaned the fine desert dust on my windows. What is happening ? These days most of the answers are in two words whether people understand it or not. Global Warming. In Qatar though, it is not warming for sure. It is raining !

Questioning today’s MII trends

The title ‘middle class trends’ came to mind but then saying middle class or lower class may get me into trouble just as the author of cattle class had to twitter-ly apologise, explain and ‘press’ his point. Using the word income seemed safer. So you have LII, MII and HII; lower income Indians, middle income Indians and higher income Indians(note the plural).
Just as India’s majority consists of MII, we have a large number of trendy topics to choose from, discuss and dissect.
Beginning with food….
The ubiquitous dhaba of North india have sprung up even in Tamil Nadu and Kerala. There is also the culture of ‘food on wheels’ all over India dishing out regional and other common food. Will KFC promoting its nuggets nudge out these places which have only ‘word of mouth’ as their marketing strategy? Will MII prefer the sterile tables with uniformed men to a cluttered and careless atmosphere?
Next on the list are not very new brands. Nobody ever remembers this was originally an Italian dish. It has spawned desi versions but will MII still prefer Pizza Hut and Dominoes? Will their melt in the mouth ads encourage all to bite into something that every Indian pronounces differently, even on Diwali and Holi? The double z sure is confusing just a ‘zh’ as in Kozhikode is for a north Indian.
A bar of Chocolate was an item on the monthly grocers list about six or seven years ago before off the rack shopping became an in thing. Will MII fall for the promotion of our old friend ‘Cadburys’ to distribute exotic and elite chocolates on auspicious occasions? Will they replace Bharati pedas and burfis?
Liquids have had a troubled past, especially the controversial colas. They have dodged the likes of George Fernandes and cases for water depletion. Still they have our superstars drinking out of their hands. Will the aam aadmi still ignore an old ad about these being good toilet cleaners?
Are all of the above on a drive to compete with America whose statistics show 30-40% obese adults with the utmost cooperation of the MII population? Will MII succumb to the day in and day out fizz washing of their brains? Will threats that all the local stuff like ghee, coconut oil, samosas, parathas and the twisted jilebis are untouchable be taken seriously and surge imports of olive oil and oregano? Will pies and pastas replace dhoklas and dosas or will confused MII throw in the towel and head to the nearest joint, desi or otherwise ?
Be it LII,MII or HII, all have broken the night’s fast in the morning from time immemorial, many with idlis, dosas, some with rice and others with paranthas or delicious puris. Then comes along great inventions like Kellogg’s and other brands which teaches us that breakfast is a must with cornflakes, oats and drinking orange juice is the healthiest alternative. Every Indian with money to spare loves new things, beautifully packaged and with atrocious prices. In the long run, will the flaky corn rule over the tedious dosas?
The menu has many more items to choose from but, I’ll stop by saying that we have always prided ourselves on being a blend of cultures and so we have our local hotels serving pizza as well as bonda. One last question, will trendy MII prefer a branded lime juice to Amul’s buttermilk?

IPL once again

I had written about this instant cricket a long time ago when this new concept came in with a bang showering money all around. It is getting time for the season 2010. But in 2008, the story went like this -

http://inthemiddle-lane.blogspot.com/search/label/cheerleaders

A SAINT

While browsing the medley of channels on Indian television, I come to one in which a naked Saint is expounding what the footnote called, “bitter truths “.
Initial curiosity makes me pause. I then burst out laughing at the manner in which he suddenly shouts and with flailing arms repeats his sermon which he had softly said earlier.
The ‘world conditioned’ me finds that first of all ,he is not wearing clothes - how uncouth; he screams out now and then – how hilariously uncivilised and the negative list regarding this person includes some more points. Smirking, I change the channel and forget him.
After a few days, I happen to see the Saint again and thinking that a few laughs on his behalf will do me good, I do not change the channel. The row upon row of men and women listening to him does not make me change my mind. After forming an opinion once again that a person should have some sort of decorum, I switch.
Now, this becomes regular. I see him for a few minutes and then press the remote to move on. Slowly I start listening to him without judging him by his outward appearance. He was talking of the way a daughter-in-law and in general women have to be treated whether they are wives, mothers or any of the different roles they be in. He had caught my attention! I approved of his view and listened some more.
His topics were simple yet for a society riddled with confusion they were eye-openers. The Saint had this method of giving simple examples by playing and punning words. He brought the audience to laughter while conveying the deeper meaning. I too laughed this time –not at him but with the audience.
‘While buttoning a shirt , if you choose the wrong button hole, no matter what you do all the buttons will go into wrong holes’- This he said to explain of the consequences of taking a wrong decision in life. In a similar manner, he explains many truths which are visible to us but which we do not ‘SEE’. I realise wisdom need not have any clothes!
I realised then what an obnoxious snob I had been and that smirking should be at me. He may not be featured in any list of ’10 most influential people’ or get any award ‘For AWAKENING people’ or ’10 best dressed men’(with his sense of humour, I’m sure he won’t mind) but this person was a MAHATMA who was not aware of his own body but was bringing awareness into thousands of people.
Like some other Mahatma’s said, we people with our boundaries for civilised behaviour of humanity, forget that we have turned ourselves into educated illiterates. We see only the outer forgetting that just as in an ice-berg, more lies under the water than above.

cold, colder, coldest

Today is cold. As we Doha'iites thought that this winter has gone into history, wind blows across chilling the city. Inside the house, it shows a not so impressive 20 deg when, pictures of life at a virtual standstill in many parts of the world especially the U.S are flashed on the tv.
A snow remover(whats the actual word ?)is partially being shown(is the cameraman shooting from inside this contraption?) behind which the whiteness of the Capitol Hill blends in with the accompanying scenery.
In Kashmir, India; snow piled 6m high on an army base camp causing death.
In the face of all this heavy precipitation, a middle east winter is not actually winter.But here I am with sweater & socks, feet tucked in a siddhasana position, typing with exposed, cold wrinkled,nervous hands.Why is it that some feel so cold at so little dip in temp.
I would wonder at the actresses with their bare bodies sitting through award nights as award ceremonies are usually held in the winter in India & elsewhere. Last winter, Bipasha Basu made an entry into Doha in January and walked about in bare back, leg exposed outfits. Are these damsels more thick skinned than me? May not be but they sure are hotter :)

I saw a cute story for kids by jayamadhavan on her blog. Here is the link.Read it.


http://www.mediafire.com/?teu2yo1uzta

Aggressive journalism

I have found that many have a new hobby these days. Journo bashing. It is also one of my faourite topic. Earlier, much earlier... we used to see only Khadi clad politicos (if I can call them that !) and so our ire was turned on them. Whether it be about 'what they said' or 'what they did', we had to comment & brand them all as hypocrites, etc etc . Now, we see less of them and more of a hound of superstars. None other than our T.V journos . So for the amount of limelight they are hogging & getting handsomely paid for it, it is only right that they have to come in the line of fire. Only that they are so bloated that the bullet will get lodged in their skin without affecting them. The more an anchor screams and out-shouts his interviewee, the more he feels proud. It does not matter that interviewers are supposed to do one thing properly and that is to Listen.
Journalists these days are a breed of egoistic, haughty ones who think they know everything and can shout down acheivers and doers in any field who they do not agree with. At least this is what we see on the T.V , the likes of Arnab.. of Times.
Headlines... have their own version in the form of Rahul something....
The trend setters of this 'drama on screen ' ;NDTV have ONLY such 'Experts' who nobody can argue with, whatever be the interviewees point of view !

They are the HE-MEN and SHE-WOMEN (?)of Indian news drama series being played out 24 hrs a day. They decide whom to support, who comes to power; which man to tear apart, which to project as a hero and so onnnn.
And we are either dumb struck audiences falling for all that they say or commentators sitting back and giving them a bashing(o.k, so what if it does'nt touch them)

Journalist with a difference

When I am in Coimbatore, the newspaper Indian Express offers little or no temptation to be read. But there is a writer I look forward to in the sunday magazine section of this paper. A mention of sunday magazine, to those who know this paper will think that the scantily clad heroines and immature articles on the new found hot topic, gay "culture"(How can this be termed culture ,I fail to see) must interest me.

Well, there is a regular column which offers much more than sensual appeal. It is by Swahilya, a journalist with a difference. She has taken us through the paths of Himalayas through her small travelogue and in her main article, through insights into the Self. Currently, she is doing a Yoga series.


For a reader, these may be capsules of the secrets in our Shastras which can be explored through in depth reading and better still ;guidance from our ever willing Acharyas. Anyway such articles lift us from the profane to something meaningful and valuable.

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silence

Today I woke up at my usual 4.10 (weekdays). The temperate cold these days is enjoyable. It is dark for an hour more and so combined with the darkness, I just sat and absorbed the silence. A few years ago,as a new resident in Doha, the silence here was frightening and even claustrophobic. But now I value this.
Sounds and Noise has become part of our lives that we forget what silence is. This is one 'sense' that we can't cut off voluntarily. Plugging our ears hardly shuts off the sounds. So, we are exposed to them all the time. I am not aware of the efficiency of today's soundproof windows etc.
Yesterday I listened to a Swamiji's New Year talk on the 'Faculty of Silence'. This sure has made me more aware of the silence. I have to question 'what when I am always in a noisy place ?' Maybe I will have to search for the silence or quietude in noise. And make it mine.

communication

There was this interesting point an educational consultant made at a workshop. How is it that a teacher stumbles a little during her first few lecture sessions and then slowly she perfects that topic?
It is because she is repeating the same thing over and over again. The student in turn is still raw because he/she is only listening.

I have seen a lot many talkative people. Most are just blabber-mouths, shooting off on any topic without any knowledge of it.
There are others who end sentences of others and thus pretend they know more than the speaker.
Then there are those who repeat what someone else mentioned with such passion that people believe it was his/her own idea.

Come to think of it, the world is full of these 3 categories and a mild person who is not strong enough to communicate his view will be overridden by these types.

So, the lesson to learn is 'effective communication rules your world' Ha... Ha... as if you did'nt know !!

A lot has happened in my placid life in these 6months
-visit to India for vacation in july and admission of my son into college
-Teaching that took up a lot of energy & my time at home
-Completion of typing & editing my fathers book
-taking care of my sick father for about 20 days
-the death of my beloved father

I remember the days when my parents used to visit me and stay on for a month or two. After they leave there used to be a pain, a void. The empty corner in the room marked by their suitcases would bring tears to my eyes. The absence of their daily disciplined routine would choke me. The children would be dull unable to explain their feelings but missing their love & warmth.

Now, the difference is that my Father has left us forever. As he would say when ill, it was his body that was going to depart and not his Atma. The pain and hollow feeling is obviously stronger. But he would be proud of us if we did'nt mourn him. He would not want us to think about death. He wanted us to think of the life and years for the children of India and the youth whose changing values troubled him in his last days.

It is tough to pick up these threads that he left behind. And now that we cannot catch his guiding hand, it is a daunting task. I truly pray that the project he left behind would be taken up and would do justice to his pure thought and intention.

in coimbatore

It's been a while since I penned here. I am on vacation.As usual, the days spent here in India are so full and satisfactory. There are people everywhere. Just a smile in return for one, then maybe a greeting to another person, then again a few sentences to a closer friend all makes a day more enjoyable. Even small talk is possible at a visit to the nearby shop. Although I'm not an extrovert, I love the atmosphere here, the freedom.