Let Laughter in, Erase Lines of Worry

After a day's hard work,
The routine,
The usual stress
I take the bus
Find a corner seat
Put my face
Against the wind.
Feel its caress.

My  mind races
Through a situation
That has no answer
East or West
North or South
And I squirm
That there's no way out


I look out.
And see a boy
Of sixteen, seventeen
In a roadside workshop
Covered with grease
Talking with a friend.

He throws back his head
And laughs.
Freely, naturally.
About what
I can't guess.
My forehead feels
Its lines easing
Lines I had not known were there.

I realise that
I need
Calm wisdom and courage
And then
What would be would be
It wasn't worth the lines
On my forehead or
In my mind.

                                                         Photos : Free digital photos.net

Chennai Floods - When Humanity Triumphed over Greed!

Thank you, thank you - a thousand times and more      ( free digital photos.com)

               Never mind the cause of the floods: that's obviously of human origin  - global warming, melting of the ice caps on mountains, chopping off the trees that should have sucked the water into the ground, the building of buildings right in the path of the rain water (when there were no rains and so people forgot about them anyway). For all these we can't segregate who were actually responsible and so maybe all of humanity is responsible anyway.

                But once the floods came and people found themselves in disaster, man rose to help man. Indeed, his huge heart woke up and people sheltered strangers, expecting nothing in return. Some shared food and water,even when not knowing when they themselves would receive fresh supplies.

Some rescued others from flowing water, again risking their own lives. Most forgot to sleep, waking others from disaster. Policemen, common men levelled roads,potholes and broke barriers to let the water flow out. Doctors, nurses, medical staff, trained, untrained reached out to help. Some lifted patients, the weak, elderly to better places. Some carried children, animals.

                                                                                                               82 year old woman making chappathis for those in need.

 Fishermen lent their boats, themselves in rescue operations. Others cooked endlessly. Some others transported these food items and water. Electricians, wire men climbed poles, fixed current at places, cut off at others to avoid electrocution.

                     Children and youth emptied their savings, collected money from others and bought and  distributed food, clothing,medicines, necessities. Some reminded the people that Cuddalore was worse hit than Chennai,(although it didn't get any attention) and diverted some help there.

                      The rest,sitting far away like me can only pass on helpline numbers and thank the brave and big hearts for  widely outnumbering the few who thought of this as a time to fill their pockets. 

        

Abdul Kalam - Indian People's First Choice

                                             First Citizen : By law or by peoples' choice



Ask any teacher in India if she can confidently teach her students," that's a true Indian you can be proud of ." And most probably she'll come up with the same answer, 'Abdul Kalam'.

Because other exemplary humans lived in the freedom struggle times and it's difficult to ask youngsters to follow examples of long ago.So I as a teacher rejoiced to hear that a museum is to be built in Delhi in Dr.Abdul Kalam's memory. I wanted to share my joy immediately but meanwhile got caught up in discussing Chennai's recent floods.

Though he was a brainy and most successful scientist, the whole of India remembers him because of his humility and the  goodwill he had towards others.Where else will you find a person so dedicated to inspiring youth? Who else travelled endlessly just to pass on his success to others?


Here are some contrasting situations

 that endeared  President A.P.J Abdul Kalam to the masses-

·        Abdul Kalam’s father was a muslim imam of a local mosque. But he owned a ferry which took Hindu pilgrims to and fro between Rameswaram and Dhanushkodi(Hindu places of pilgrimage).

·        The family was poor when Abdul was a boy and he sold newspapers to help. Yet he ended up as the President of India.

·        He missed achieving his dream of becoming a fighter pilot.

But he travelled all over India inspiring the youth to follow their dreams.
Though he majored in Physics and Mathematics and became India’s  missile man, he collaborated with Dr.Soma Raju to              

                         develop a low cost coronary stent named the Kalam Raju stent.             

·           These two again collaborated to develop a tablet computer  known   as the Kalam Raju tablet for   health care in rural areas.

·        Though the BJP can hardly tolerate Muslims, the Kalam-BJP reign went on very smoothly. (President-Prime Minister)

·        Though he had served as the President of India, he went about humbly and almost unnoticed, teaching the youth at different IITs,

inspiring them  to do their best.

He maintained this humility to thank all the teachers who inspired him, including his primary teachers.

·            He was a pure vegetarian.

·                Though he died at the age of 83, he was most followed by the youth of  India all over the world!

May the museum inspire still more youth  by his words and writings.                                         

                                                                                                 Photos : Google images

Coping with Natural Disasters in Future - Will being 'Swach Bharat' help?

We need  to learn from our experiences and put our  hands and heads together to bring about a permanent solution.

                                         TO err is human, but to learn from it is development.

It was a life time's achievement! To get land at the crowded city of Chennai this cheap and to build a house. A few handfuls of  'under the table' deals settled all the necessary legal matters. Nobody was being harmed, it seemed at the time.

And then those plastics.They told us, time and again to segregate the plastics  and use it for road laying and the like. But where was the time for the voice of the environmentalists then? It was so neat and convenient to wrap up all the bin's contents in a plastic cover and toss it across the road. Whether it blocked the street dogs' or straying cows' stomachs was their own concern.

But now it is different. The recent experiences cannot be wiped out from our minds so easily.The close shave with loss and even death. The feeling of being trapped and separated from the outer world. The darkness. The power cut.The fear of snakes swimming into our houses. The thirst when our water supply was cut off . The starvation.

Now we know and understand. We will clear the way for the  excess water to flow into the sea, if need be after all our rain water harvesting schemes have been used to the full.  We will keep our city clean. We will segregate our wastes. And don't forget to tell the Corporation to do its part too.To provide the necessary bins and trucks and man power to clear the waste in time.

We Tamilians can do anything once we make up our minds. 'Swach Bharat? Okay, fine. Just see if we don't follow the rules. The biodegradable waste should end up in manure pits and covered with soil for some 3 months or more, right?

And the non-biodegradable should be collected all the more carefully and taken either for recycling or better still for direct use elsewhere where it will not in any case block water's flow: neither in roadside drains nor in other water bodies, irrespective of whether they are in use or not.

Tamilnadu's recent floods  might  have finally brought about a general awareness among the public. Awareness regarding the preventive measures we ought to take to avoid the stench of death and loss, the fear of resulting diseases, the unexpected displacement of our regular livelihood. The unknown potholes and manholes that cause so many accidents.

Disasters have visited us in the past. And we rose above them. Warned our children about them. And taught them to manage, to live 'humanely' and to respect lives. We shall do it again and this time it will be different. Because we learnt so much from the media. About people all across the world, their disasters and how they rose above them.

                                                          Photos : Google images

How They Met ...and Married

Jessie pulled her sari tjghter about her in an involuntary gesture of self protection. Something about the man in turban sitting opposite her in the train compartment disturbed her. The newspaper he held was all a pretence. She was sure of that. Now and then he was casting furtive glances at her with a sly smile on his lips.

She was a teacher at a reputed school and was going back home for her quarterly holidays. Her father would be waiting for her at the station. This Christmas would be special for her. She would be allowed to wear a new necklace that they had got her. And that beautiful pink silk sari.

 A veterinary doctor had come to 'see' her some ten days back. The family seemed pleased enough with whatever they had seen and heard of her.The doctor himself seemed to be a skinny guy. She couldn't catch a glimpse of him properly as he was far away and girls were not supposed to stare. So they might fix the engagement in the holidays and then the marriage between Christmas and New Year. That was the time the church would be fully decorated and everybody would be in a festive mood.

The train slowed down at her station and she got up to pull her suitcase out from the shelf above. The man opposite her immediately got it for her.She felt like telling him to mind his own business but just pulled it from him with a rough 'thank you' and turned away. Her brother had also come to the station. She showed him the man and said, "looks like he's been following me." The brother immediately turned his cycle and went after the man.

"You'd better leave my sister alone."he warned.
."I don't think that's possible, brother-in-law," the man replied, pulling off his turban and false beard."I wanted to have a closer look at my bride, you know, and now hurry and start the wedding preparations."

The bride was my maternal aunt and that was how I got my fun loving uncle.


                                       *                                       *                                    *

Satish was a handsome and enterprising engineer working abroad. So the next natural step was to search for a suitable bride for him. An elderly well wisher had found just the right bride for him. Well educated, wise, patient and caring, the  well wisher  was fully sure that the bride's temperament would be ideal for the modern, impatient engineer. Satish contacted the girl via the net and found her to be indeed the ideal match for him.In the meantime  he found a new company with better opportunities and decided to switch jobs.

The date for the wedding had been fixed but the new company was in no mood to release their new employee even to attend his own wedding  at India. Cards were printed and the guests were invited.
But no one knew when the bridegroom would actually arrive. As the possibility of his arriving for his wedding grew dim, he began assuring his bride that even if he couldn't arrive in person at the appointed time, they'd complete the rituals via the net and be declared Man and wife at the appointed time.

Yet Mala, the bride still hoped. Eleven hours before the wedding the company gave the groom permission to leave and five hours before the wedding he arrived to find his decked up bride sleeping out of sheer exhaustion. He whisked her into a car at midnight and took her to the beach only to be threatened by the police who suspected some foul behaviour. Luckily some relatives came to his rescue and he and his bride had a chance to meet each other before their wedding.

This young couple are my house owners and are blessed with two beautiful children.

                                         *                                                  *


A freedom fighter who had been in jail for a long time was shown the door by the fathers of all the prospective brides.

 In those days relatives competed  with one another in booking bridegrooms for their daughters. So this fatherless bridegroom was very downcast. He confided this to a friend who promised to get him a good bride. The friend went to his sister's hostel, lied to her and the staff that their father was ill and brought the poor unsuspecting girl out. Took her straight to a registrar's office and made her sign the marriage register.
The girl's  mother-in- law was a warm and broadminded person. She immediately welcomed  the bride and did everything to make her feel at home.The student- suddenly- turned bride found herself  to be the head of a long line of brothers and sisters-in-law. Yet she too soon fit into her role.

This (her adjustment) happens to be good for me because the bride turned out to be my mother-in-law.

That Encouraging Word

                                            Statue of the founder, GTN College, Dindigul


"I KNEW it all along, I could feel the sense of gratitude and the looks of admiration from my classmates, both boys and girls. Yet it felt good and truly boosted my spirits to hear it from my master when he told you about me the other day," my friend's daughter told her mother Nandini (my friend) recently.

'And hearing her say it the day after she graduated from her College boosted my spirits in turn because we really had reason to fear for her', Nandini explained.

'Her two years of Higher Secondary at a new school hadn't been good. How she landed there, hostel and all I still can't say.Some suggestion from her friends, some from mine and off she went. Her idea was to listen well in class and  then open her books now and then to understand a concept. Just before tests and the exams she'd refresh what was in her mind.But it didn't work out there.

The authorities there who had produced some toppers believed in making the students reproduce the textbook, word for word. This would ensure full marks for the students and a name for the school. When my daughter produced the answer in her own words, she was hardly given a decent mark. Overcome by shame and guilt, she lost her reasoning and logic. In spite of our assurances that we only wanted her to be happy and confident, she showed symptoms of stress, depression and inferiority.

Then to our surprise she passed with a 1st class and in fact with marks above 70%. But with every College expecting students with top marks, we had a tough time during admission. Anyway she was admitted  to the GTN College and it proved to be a healing therapy for her.The positive and encouraging atmosphere there did her a world of good.

. Most of her classmates being from villages, my daughter who had lived in towns through out had lots to learn from them : like sharing in the chores at home,being independent,etc.

And they in turn came to know of their rights,learnt to think and reason with their lecturers, etc.from her.She had even arranged a trip to Kerala for them-all on her own.

 Once I got to meet a lecturer by chance.He was surprised how so active a girl could remain humble and helpful too.This was the lecturer she was referring to, Meena",Nandini told me obviously relieved.                                                                                                                                                                    A trip to Kerala                                                                                      

Creating a Samacheer (uniform) Class for Children

It's been around four years now since the introduction of the Samacheer  or uniform system of education for all children in Tamilnadu. And both students and teachers have found a way to crack even this system, generally speaking.
 Logically, it sounds right. Creating equal opportunities by giving all the children: rich and poor, city and slum area, equal education. Yet if  we hold the lens close enough, we notice that there  still are differences. Differences in background  knowledge, scope and capacity. And perhaps we haven't really lifted the level of the village children. Perhaps we have only brought down the level of the city and town children.

But of course just as a human cell takes at least 3-4 months to grow, perhaps a human brain must also be expected to take its time to show  the benefit of growth. So perhaps like all team work, the 'slow and backward' so far might get a chance of being either uplifted or shoved up.That's as far as academics is concerned.
 But as for as the real problem, teachers still have to grind their teeth. The behaviour of the downtrodden children. Perhaps in the tough competition for their basic needs, man automatically turns into a beast,when it comes to survival of the fittest. Like we see 'decent' middle class people when their water pipes are broken or blocked and they have to depend on 'water trucks' or lorries.

So it could be either the hunger in these children or anger. Physical hunger because his overworked mother doesn't have the strength or time, sometimes even money to provide for him. Naturally, hunger for attention also ensues. Anger that the parents/society/fate did not provide them their basic needs or spend enough time with them. The pity is that they are not even aware of their anger or hunger. So they don't know that they can try for a solution. Instead, they smile their sadist smile and vent their anger with fowl words. Words that a self respecting teacher would blush to hear. Or they mercilessly bully a weak child.

The media with its introduction of violence and sexually stimulating scenes and words hasn't helped at all. Socially, the stess on honour and values have been replaced by marks/grades with the idea that it'll convert to money some day. Neither do we find many children with a value based book in hand or sitting at the library.

At school,the teacher tries to correct the child with kindness, even love - and finds herself made a fool of. And practically, we can't expect most of the teachers to pursue after that. Sometimes the child has simply grown up with that kind of behaviour in that kind of class  and imbibes it without thinking. ( the lower classes have to live in a particular place so that they may not cross over to or walk or even collect water from where the higher classes live,though stray pigs can do that).

 If his father is a drunkard and hits his wife, a boy thinks that the 'man' thing to do would be to drink himself and look at girls without respect. Small, common rooms for parents and children make them observe their parents in their private moments and may  stimulate him to try out his ability. Any different kind of advice makes him think that this person doesn't  have the kind of experience he has.

Where then lies the answer?Social workers and teachers have to exercise their wisdom, patience and  prayers for these children till a common class of thinking and well behaved children arises.Will it?

                                                                  Photos : free digital photos.net

High Above the Maddening Crowd

            THOUGH it may not come under any ‘Heritage’ or ‘wonder of the world’ title, Dindigul’s  Balaji  Bhavan,Tamilnadu is surely a haven above the ground  for any local resident or visitor.

     We escaped from the crowded Bus Stand to Balaji Bhavan  one evening,  went past the crowd already eating/waiting for their parcels to be packed and took the lift to the roof top.

       It was my son’s birthday. And my daughter wanted to celebrate it in style.  We stepped out into the cool fresh air and took a few steps ahead. We were greeted by the sound of light romantic music. The dim lighting helped relieve the tension off my eyes(I became aware of it only after entering there).I was looking  at the young bamboo shoots and flowering plants and shrubs when we had to cross a small bridge. As I watched my step I saw fish pass just below my feet as water flowed under the bridge.

       Four or five young couples with small children were already seated around small tables.  A smiling waiter took us to an empty table towards the inside. Water jugs and small sauce pots were already placed on the table. Table mats of chart paper with quiz and puzzles for children were laid on the empty table. As we were relishing all these, the waiter served us the menu card. We asked for both mushroom soup as well as the usual tomato soup. Strangely though, the mushroom soup was not as good as the tomato soup. As we were ordering these, another waiter served the neighbouring table with something that was burning and smoking but  in a raw cabbage leaf. I held my daughter’s arm and pointed to the dish but my daughter whispered that it was a sizzler and that was the way it should be served. By the time we finished our soup, curiosity overtook my fear and I wanted a sizzler too.

  The children ordered spring rolls(tortillas), naan,( something like a big bun) and rumalli roti as the main dishes.These were mostly made of maida(white flour), which  had no nutritional value. But on seeing the children’s faces and comforting myself that it was only once a year, I kept quiet. The mushroom gravy topped with cottage cheese and cauliflower curry with mayonnaise were sumptous and  appetizing.

    We felt full but what is a celebration without a dessert? Each of us
had a milk shake of a different flavour with a generous topping of icecream. All these came within a surprising low bill. And to re-live the sweet memories we sure took a lot of photos in the funniest of poses you could think of!

A Lady's Sense of Justice

free digital photos.net

I had heard so much about her that I was waiting for the day I could see her in person. Plump and caring but authoritative with the final word  and an innate sense of justice.

She entered the reserved compartment and walking straight towards a seat that seemed empty, she sat down. It was actually a two seater but a thin couple occupied only half the space provided.The man reminded her that it was a reserved compartment but she replied that she was harming no one.

Her husband had served in the railways for many years and died 'in harness'. The job was given to her son. She was called to help with her daughter's second delivery and while there,she had yet another call from a relative who was having serious health problems. Wasn't it her duty to go there immediately and help? Should she be delayed searching for Identity proofs and the lot?

Vendors selling fresh murukkus (a crisp rice snack) passed by. She called them and bought a good lot of murukkus. The relative had children, you know. Presently she took out the day's newspaper and offered a sheet to each of the passengers to read.In half an hour the men began talking politics. The lady too joined in. Right from the politics of her local area to State politics to National politics, she was well informed and well opinionated about everything.                                                                                                                                           free digital photos.net

She could look above the cracks and loopholes of the abiding law that so many took unfair advantage of. She reminded me of the old time grannies who managed joint families with their intuitive love and wisdom. An explanation of the Tamilian custom of worshiping women goddesses.

                                                                         free digital photos.net

Growth of a kind

                                                              photo : free digital photos.net


If I could
Unwind the hands
Of time
I would
Take back the word
That caused the hurt
In your eyes.
The deed
That was a step away from you
And led to others.
It seemed right
At the time
Yet with the
Passing of years
And the lasting
Tears
I understand
That the unity
Of minds
Is worth
More than being right.

I could also use
The experience of today
To diffuse
The hurt I bore
Unnecessarily
Some put- me - downs
By different clowns
To which I couldn't
React, recover
Only the sting  hovered.

Some decisions
If revised
Could help
Both sides
Compromise
But experience is growth
Of a kind
To be passed on
To generations
By word
Or letter
Or message
To those
Who ask or
would listen.

A treadmill to heaven

                                                                     free digital photos.net



Questions, questions,
questions
so many of them
pop up in my heart,
my soul.
Like the rings of sliced onion
that fall off
from the core
Unanswered,'un-understandable,'
Perhaps almost unacceptable:
Of  unbalanced suffering
Suffering long and continuing
To the next generations

Some suspect a curse
If so, I wish those involved
Right their wrongs
Or search for remedies,
For wisdom
To tilt the see-saw
Of favour
To their side.

Till then
 I will perhaps
Find myself
On a treadmill
That keeps me
From proceeding,
Or progressing
With  the confidence
That once was
And should have been mine.

                                                                     free digital photos.net

Understanding children instincts through our pets...

"Hi Terry, How's life?" I ask my pet dog. He looks at me without  raising his head. And without even wagging his tail. Nice snub, I think and walk away.

"You can't blame him. You didn't bother about him when he was alone  (in another yard owned by us) all those years and he had nobody to comfort him while he guarded the shed in the yard," my daughter was quick to speak up for him. That was the truth,I had to admit to myself. He used to yell painfully when any of us passed that way. But we went there only for some specific job and always had to hurry for one reason or the other. Moreover with workers moving about in a hurry it just wasn't the place for relaxing with a dog. 

For my daughter it was different. She did bother to stop and spend some time with him even though he usually ended their meeting with loud cries as if to say, 'No, don't go away. Stay with me! Talk with me. Play with me!!

Then the shed changed hands and Terry was brought to live with us. Now I get the chance to serve him his dinner everyday. He can't escape me now, I think. Dinner and bones for him  is in my hands.

 "Here Terry, Come and eat."I call out to him. He smells his food and walks away. Showing no other reaction.    

Meanwhile he follows my daughter like a slave , sits by her feet in a 'At your service, Master' posture and looks at her with eyes of pure admiration.

Along comes 'bath time' and I am  commissioned to do the job. I am afraid to touch him. I begin by telling him what a gem he is and I knew it all along and how happy I'm to have a good boy. Every breath of fear brings out a shrill 'good boy' from me like the Kabbadi players. He had seen me wash his kennel too. So I wait in expectation of a sign of forgiveness from him. I see a  smile, a wave of his tail.  A neighbour passing by asks me if he just had a bath and only then I realize that it must have been a noisy bath.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

 Then comes my nephew out of the blue and after getting introduced to Terry  arranges for his  freedom : takes him for walks, runs and games. Terry then scarcely notices my daughter and rushes past her to his new hero, licks his lips looking at him and sits at his feet, awaiting his command. All this from a breed known for its faithfulness? I wonder.

As a  parent and teacher I got thinking,'Do we see a similar behavior pattern in children too? Children giving preference to trust and freedom first of all, then kind words and last of all to their basic needs being met.Specially

to children /animals who didn't have to struggle with their basic needs being met.


                                                                             free digital photos.net 

English songs that filled me with great expectations

What a pleasure it was to be introduced to the voice of Jim Reeves ! Even if he just talked it sounded like music. His song 'I love you because you understand me' somehow gave me the confidence that the one I take my vows with would  surely 'make my heart feel lighter every step we walked side by side'. I would have loved to meet him sometime but poor Jim is said to have died the year I was born.

Another favourite song played often by Radio Ceylon  was, 'Chiquitita'(by Abba), a girl comforted by her friend that she was one she could rely on and that she should 'smile once more like she did before and sing a new song'. The background music makes it sound like its rolling and then jumping down the steps, one by one until it joins a wave and rolls back.

Of course 'Do. Re. Me.. was something we almost grew up on  and then 'My favourite things' was everyone's Birthday Party favourite. By the time 'Country Roads, take me Home' was in vogue in my area, we joined hostels and had started counting  the days when we could go home.

One Sunday morning our roomates were in the mood and dressed my beautiful friend and me in Saris just before we could start out. As it was our first experience with Saris, we stepped out gingerly. On our way back we had to get down a steep hill.Carefully we took each step. Suddenly a whirlwind passed  just below us and a  human figure moved from bush to bush  saying, "You drape yourselves in curtains and think that you are top in style but the world is laughing at you".

Fear turned to curiosity. It was the voice of JIM REEVES. I wanted to go back and have a look at his face. But my friend grabbed me and pulled me back. "Are you mad?" she asked. He'll lift you up and throw you down the hill. And in this place can't say if we'll be able to get the body, even".
Looked like he was in long hair, long beard and rags. "But beggars and mad people don't speak in English, even in Ooty," I said. "Did you notice his voice, his accents?"
"He was brilliant and a great orator," she explained(she was from this place). But suddenly he lost his mind".
"Why didn't his parents take and treat him?"I asked, wondering how whoever educated him this well so far could suddenly leave him.

Just as we were finishing College, a young girl, 'Angel' (and who sang like an angel too) died suddenly in an accident. The last song she sang on stage was  that'In the street, by and by we will meet on that beautiful shore'. Was it a co-incidence? Just like Gentleman Jim who flew away after he last sang, 'I'll fly away'.Perhaps God too likes these angels to  sing to him....

3 Mysterious Melodies

I had a liking for these three songs before realising that they had something in common.

Naane  Varuvane.........

   .......

Oh........Ne Illame  Naana

                                       


Nadhi  Poghum


       
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'Naane Varuvane - ingum angum' meaning, 'I will surely come - whether here or there',sang the car radio, welcoming us as we climbed the Nilgiri hills with the intent of settling down there.It was in the the tune of the Hindi song 'Naina bharasae, Rim jim rim jim'.
 But I was too young then to guess that one was the remake of the other. Apart from being melodious, the three part setting in the movie heightens the mystery - the mystery  of a lady's voice following (or awaiting) him at  different places.There's something of a longing there. A timely gap in between enhances the song.

In the early '80s the song"Oh............Ne illame naana?" Oh..............Me without you?" had  me hooked  alright (although I had not seen the movie and did not know the story). I mentioned my interest in this song  casually to my roomies and that was it.They'd call me from wherever I was whenever the song was broadcast.


Very recently I found myself running to peep at the screen whenever the familiar tune of a violin was being played. A child's clear cut voice catches one's attention. A child made to beg to support some blind elders.Makes you want to get up and free the child. And of course the blind ...Only then I realised that this was the third ghost song that was haunting me. From the film, 'Pisasu'.
(Though the child has nothing to do with any ghost).

When I had later got to see the 'Me without you ' song's video from the movie 'Aairam Nillavae Vaa' it was replete with the baying of dogs, doors opening on their own, some birds hooting - and not to forget that gap in between. The ghost singing this song on missing his living lover.

Please don't get me wrong. Thousands and thousands of wonderful songs- the feet tapping and body swaying ones have come and gone after these songs. I'm only talking about mystery added to romance : something like Pearl Buck or Daphne Du Maurier's type which give you an uneasy thrill( I may have left out many such type too because I'm not a regular follower of songs either). Just thought of sharing some of my likes.

P.S - Since these three songs are in my language, I wonder if I have explained myself clearly enough. The first movie finally ends solving the mystery. While one girl was really interested in this man, some other group who had conspired to drive him out set her twin sister in mysterious places so that he gets the impression of seeing the same girl at two places at the same time.(The second girl doesn't talk to him. Just passes by singing a song, dressed in white).

I liked all these songs before knowing that they were from 'ghost' movies.

A Regular Sight Which Can Be Avoided

Two black cows
Majestic, well built
On their way home
From grazing
Unaccompanied
Stop by the wayside.

One stops by a dustbin
And peeps in
Sees a plastic bag
And pulls it out.
Shakes it
To get the contents out
When unsuccessful
Bites it whole
Plastic and all.

The other cow
Wades into slush
Sees a plastic bag
And pulls it out
Shakes it...

Two beautiful cows
Majestic, well built
Bear the consequences
Of man's carelessness
We save the aged bulls
By law
Yet sacrifice healthy cows
And other animals
Across the land
And water

To die of aches
And fits of pain
No plan
To ban
Use of plastics
While the gods
Of milk
And love (pets)
Succumb silently.

                                                                                                                                                                                   free digital photos.net

Shouldn't a prospective bride dress attractively?

Radha, a young lady I know is dependable, smart and efficient. That's  as far as character and work are concerned: She'd respect everyone, hurt no one, spare time for anyone....you know the rest.


Sometimes when I see her  at work,  looking down seriously at pen and paper, I tend to admire her features. The v-shaped chin, the straight nose, the serious eyes...

                                                                                                                             
                                                                       Free digital photos.net

 my eyes wander down to her dress and then sometimes I am even provoked to anger.                                                                        

It seems unfair that such a worthy lady should be dressed in such an ordinary (dull) attire.Simple living , high thinking seems to be her policy. A very appreciable quality, indeed. My argument is that for whatever amount she spends on her dress, if she could get a 'liveli-er ' colour, why not?

Obviously she does not want the extra attention. Fine. Let whoever appreciate her do so for what she is than what she may appear to be. Okay, done. Appreciated. But then something's still missing. The excitement of youth. The celebration of life. After all she has given her best to everybody, achieved  enviable success , given a helping hand to her parents, her sibling, then what?

Should a building that houses a celebrity be without a fresh coat of paint? Doesn't she talk eagerly of that day when she'll be declared Queen of a new family? Then why the disguise? Let us take her the colours of the sky and of the flowers and hasten the process of waiting...

The baby colours of pink and blue; the primary colours of green, red,yellow; the secondary colours...              
   without indulging in all these it doesn't seem right  for her to mature into the elderly maroons and greys.

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My Upper Room

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It is a small 15'x20' room with two  doors opposite each other and a small   window. A room above my house where old and unwanted things are stacked. Nothing spectacular physically. Only its history makes this room special to me.

 For it was here that I, a cross-major (a zoology graduate) succeeded in writing the thesis required to  complete my M.Phil degree.To those who knew my past history, it would sound absolutely absurd that I should aim for an M.Phil in English.

Not only was it in a subject different from my own, its standard and range were also beyond mine. No wonder then that my guide, Mrs Thayalnagaki should grumble her heart out that she was forced to guide me as an obligation to a colleague.

And with that she began to rattle off the topics on which I could do my thesis. Greek and Latin. I couldn't understand a word of what she said.When she finished, I said, "I'll think and let you know."

The only word I could remember was 'Bharati', an author whose name meant 'India.' (to my luck).I asked another known Master what he knew about this author. With a list of the books written by her, I approached my guide.

With an 'okay' from her I proceeded with my work. And then stopped. Clearly my brain had no space for whatever    Ms Bharati had in mind. I switched authors  and luckily for me, it worked. I was able to work in detail.

On a Thursday afternoon, the day scheduled for me to present my work to Mrs Thayalnayaki,I washed the room (it was obviously home to a cat in my absence) and letting it dry under a slow fan I went down to receive her. (She had to go past my house and had kindly agreed to stop by).

I'm still not sure what exactly got Mrs. Thayalnayagi bowled over- the 'dump' room converted into a flower scented study or the effectiveness of my work. In any case I managed to convert  a grumbling Mrs. Thayalnayaki into a praising and smiling Mrs. Thayalnayaki.

And the room above my house is a still reminder of Virginia Woolf's emphasis, 'A room of my own'

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It's my Birthday!

'Tis my 2nd Birthday!

But my mistress ignored me this year!

She should at least make up in the coming year!

                                                                                                              ....SURE, Sweetie

Feels like you're stumbling? Try joining a course

Only when I was filling out this blog's  questionnaire -specially   the   question on the movies I liked.I remembered    English Vinglish and I realized    that it's not only children who feel trapped . Very often women are made to feel like doormats by their families.It hurts when the children,particularly girls, insult  their mothers instead of being supportive of her.

I have seen husbands in real life who tell their wives that languages like English can be learnt only by those who have some special talent.What rubbish! A language can be learnt basically by exposure.

Here in this movie though often put down for not knowing English, the heroine Shashi does not give up.She makes use of an opportunity to enroll in a spoken English class.

From then on there's no turning back for her.Apart from the practical solution to the problem- being able to express herself in English, along comes the bonus which is visible first of all-

   

the self-confidence and the sense of achievement,the ability to project herself even as she  is in society. This new 'Avatar' of Sashi coupled by the support and encouragement she receives from others makes the husband realize his mistake.

I THINK WE CAN USE THIS PRINCIPLE IN SCORES OF WAYS.

Just before creating this blog,I had some ideas which I wanted to share  with others. (in the form of 

short stories) But I didn't know  how to get it done.Though I have a computer at home,I didn't know

 to use it (believe it?)The youngsters I know told me to try clicking  different keys, I'd get it. Nothing 

seemed to work. Finally I opted for a week's professional training and hey, even ordinary me could create  a blog.

You know how I feel? I too feel exactly like this_

Try it yourself and tell me if you don't . 

A Step - Sorry, a hop at a time

“Come on, Ma, just thinking is not going to help you get anywhere.” My daughter said, calling me to a game of shuttle. I was just not in the mood for it but not wanting my burden to become her burden I agreed and played so badly that my daughter suggested we go for a walk instead.

Three cases. All the three companies I had invested in had come tumbling down. I thought dividing my investments into three would avoid such a disaster. How could I make it up now? Would it affect my husband and daughter?...

 "Pa is calling, Ma” my daughter said, giving me the phone.

“I have good news for you," he said. "We are going to Kallanai dam tomorrow. My boss is taking us to celebrate our company's success.Three other families are coming.”

‘Promise me you’ll enjoy the day,’ was my daughter’s only request.

“Wow! A beautiful place to spend the day,” my daughter said as we got down from our van and went to peep at the water glittering in the sun. We walked through the traffic jam and reached a shady island like place.

Being a holiday, the historical dam (it was built by a Cholan King,Karikalan Chola in the 2nd century and then developed later on by a British Engineer) was packed beyond its capacity. Vendors made good business, as if to make up for all other working days when people could hardly be sighted. The centre of attraction was a rotating plastic bull with just a small strap on its back which a rider could use to balance himself. The crowds cheered as rider after rider tried his luck. Finally a small boy won everyone’s applause as he seemed glued to the bull. His size and weight seemed ideal to fool the centrifugal force of the bull.

After playing some games, we settled down to have lunch. Fried rice, chappaties, eggs and vegetables. After some more rest and entertainment, we continued exploring.

                           Photo: Google image

                            
The dam looked like a square opened up on one side to let the water in. The other three sides had shutters to control and distribute water in three different directions.

The side opposite to the opening was most beautiful. Built in step-like structures made the water gush down, each drop glistening like gems in the sun, showing off their beauty before falling down partly as froth and partly as spray. Further down was a line of weeds where cranes, storks and other water birds sat, perhaps to catch fish that got trapped in the weeds. Only one or two cranes stood along the edge of the steps balancing themselves effortlessly like acrobats, concentrating only on the fish they could get.

One crane in particular caught my attention. It was standing on one leg – just like the cranes in Chikibio’s story, I thought. Just how could it choose this of all places to sleep, I couldn’t help wondering. All around it the water thundered and flowed. One wave seemed enough to make it a pack of feathers and distribute it the next moment. As if to answer me, it put down its foot but pulled it up immediately – obviously in pain. Looked like it had an injury. I wondered who or what could have caused it. After a while it bent down and held up a small shiny silver coloured fish in its beak. Hey - What luck! Or rather, what grit of the little bird.

 Wasn’t I too standing in deep waters like the crane?  Could I also hop my way to success? I felt a surge of hope.