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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.

A Tiny Survivor

                                                       

“Hey! How did this leaf come here?” I exclaimed as I was collecting drinking water from the tap in a pot. The leaf went up and down and then I noticed that it had legs all over. On closer inspection I found that it was a prawn, ¾” long and some 2mm wide.

The dam that supplied us with water was some 12 kms away.  The water must have been purified before it reached us: that meant a process of sedimentation, then passage through coal beds and chemical treatment before it reached us.  How did this tiny creature survive all that and then swim through 12 kms of water? Or how could he possibly have jumped in from somewhere else like a catfish after the processing?

I named him ‘Tiny’ and loved him instantly. (It must have been a ‘he’ to muscle his way through). I transferred him to an old fish bowl I found and scraped in a small bit of fish food I had. Fish usually died of over-feeding so how much should I feed this little fellow?  

  I went to an aquarium but its keeper caught a handful of 3” long fish from one tank and fed them to bigger fish in another tank.  I gasped and shied away from asking him about Tiny.

 Occasionally I would drop in a fibre from a dog’s bone or a speck of fruit. Thrice he moulted his skin. It was then that I realized he was a part of nature and belonged there.

The next holiday I carried his bowl and went to the dam he had come from. Crowds had come to celebrate the showers we had the last few days and the increase in the inflow of water.

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“Mummy,” a plump boy of about 14 was whimpering near us, a packet of chips in his hand. “Sneha made me walk all the way from there,” he said, pointing to the beginning of the traffic jam.

“If I didn’t, we’d still be stuck up there,” a slim and tall girl with long hair said as she returned from parking a Scooty nearby. But he made a face at her and clung to their mother, a round lady of about 45.

As I peered into the water I noticed some 5-6” long fish. Here and there some fish were jumping even above the water’s surface. I walked off the main course and came to a pool surrounded by some tall plants. It looked like a spring, small bubbles bursting occasionally. Safe from big fish, birds and drying up. I emptied the bowl there and bid Tiny farewell.

“Mummy!” the whimpering boy was near us again. “Tell Sneha that I won’t walk back again.”

‘Today’s youngsters could learn a lot from Tiny,’ I thought and drove away.

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That parting smile

A policeman in uniform with his wife sitting behind him rode through the crowed bus stand and stopped in front of a packed bus. As the wife climbed into the bus he went to the flower shop and returned with a bundle of sweet smelling stringed jasmine and gave it to her.. A sweet contrast to the stereotype rough and tough policeman we see around us.Not only that one day, this was a daily routine.

Having to pass through the bus stand everyday on my way to work provides many revelations. Husbands dropping their wives for work or sometimes vice-verse. Couples nodding to each other as they get off the vehicle, smiling or waving.

Observing couples on two wheelers is good entertainment. Sometimes one is serious and the other smiling. There are those who cannot smile even when they mean to.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   free digital photos.net
When we see a lone differently abled person, we tend to wonder about their future. A permanent job for such people is their present security and comfort. As time goes by the sight of a broad minded and accepting partner is  comforting. Most special people land up with one.

But not all days are sunny so we sometimes have funny expressions that say, "I'm angry with you but we're hooked. So..."

One impression that will most probably stay in my mind is that of the driver of our bus whose house was en route his regular duty route. As he slowed down near his house his young wife would come out hurrying with a round tiffin box in her hand. I would keep guessing what was inside but the fullness of her smile conveyed the fullness of her giving.

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Starting Problem.

"Hello Ma'm, I've read the whole book but I can't make out head or tail of anything. Looks like I'll have to come over and get some basic ideas from you," I said over the phone fixing an appointment for the next day with my guide and teacher. An appointment I dreaded because my guide wasn't too happy guiding a cross major.

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With just 3 weeks for the exam I was at a loss at understanding the complications of literature as I was  more familiar with the facts and figures of science and scientific thinking and didn't have much patience with abstract theories or ideas. With the afternoon at my disposal, I decided to give it a second reading, a trial so as to be of least burden to my guide as she had a regular college routine to follow. I was an extra candidate she was guiding out of obligation to a friend and colleague.

The book in discussion was a thin one, some 80 pages or so. "Now com'on," I said to myself. "Just imagine this were an Agatha Christie or a Gardener's book. Would 80 pages be a burden?" ... And she's going to explain whatever you don't understand anyway, so what's the problem.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               free digital photos.net

 And with that I sped through the pages again. Some names and some theories each one was proposing. A's theory made sense if he were referring to B's theory who in turn was referring to C's theory.And what was C saying?  More or less like the substitution equations we had done at Maths. Maths? My guide would have a fit if I were to mention that word.
Yet the more I thought about it, the more it seemed to fit in.The next day before starting my class I asked my guide whether my understanding of what I guessed was right.

"Sure! she said. "That means you've got the main point... Only yesterday you sounded so lost. So I was wondering from where to start..."


That's how we started together, each complementing the other's work. I was working on a new topic. So I collected all the information which was useful to her. Our starting problems were over.

                                                                           free digital photos.net

With a will to win

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Layer upon layer

Of fruitlessness

Growing in my heart

In my mind

Makes my spirit heavy

My soul sag. 

I begin to expect

Only others to be happy

Others to have fun

Like the Himalayas

Of old

Covered with snow

Waiting for the sun

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To warm up and

Give to others 

Gifts of water

And life

I look up to the sun

With closed eyes 

Expecting

And yet  not expecting

Brighter days to come.

But I am a living being 

With a will 

Of my own

I will stretch out my limbs

And fight it out

With wisdom and patience

Till victory is won.

  Free digital photos.net 

An unusual bond still remembered

My article which appeared in The Hindu's  OPEN PAGE today.(Page 11) dated 11-01-2015

"Meow" a  voice soft as air would call me sharp at five thirty every morning. No, I'm not referring to the voice alarm of my cell. I'm referring to a live cat who used to call at my window in the cold misty mornings at Kotagiri, a hill station on the Nilgiris somewhat near to the windy peak, Dhodabetta.

That was in 1991  when I worked as a residential teacher at a private school. "Coming," I'd whisper and tiptoe to the front door to invite her in. And like long lost friends we'd chat and chat till my roommate  got up and yelled at me that it was time to get ready for school.

"What do you have to tell that 'ugly cat' so urgently so  early in the morning?"she'd wonder ...And how do you two use the same tone?... And how does her voice get softer in the mornings?"...
 And I'd wonder how my roommate woke up so early because both of us (the cat and I) were very careful not to disturb her.

"Don't feed that cat anything. It's a thief." The maids who ran the show there warned me on the first day of my joining. "If you do, we'll have to chase her away. You want to pet a cute cat? See this one. Pet her all you want." They said, showing me a black and orange fluffy beauty.  Many children ran and surrounded it and my cat friend was chased away.

Somehow my instinct made me search for the vagabond and so we met each day. Just a "Hi, How are you?" and she'd relate to me all her adventures of the day, it seemed. In order to let our relationship continue, I stuck to the rules of not feeding her. Soon every child on the campus got accustomed to seeing a grey cat following me on the small grass between the classrooms.

It nearly used to break my heart to find her waiting outside a single classroom for forty minutes. Just for the 2-minute chat we could have till we reached the main school building.Then she'd disappear into the bush till the evening.

One day she walked into my bathroom and strode across  busily, continuously, across and back.
"No, puss, No.You can't do that," I said, chasing her. From what I knew of my cats at home, she was searching for a place to deliver kittens. My roommate would simply not stand it.

 When I confided in another teacher friend, she wouldn't believe it. "I agree that you have some extraordinary understanding. But to say that this cat told you she's pregnant is pure rubbish. Look at her sides. Absolutely flat with both sides touching each other."

Within two weeks she delivered three kittens in a locked room, jumping in through the ventilator.
After they grew up and were given away, we continued our friendship as before.
But then the Principal found out she had fleas that could spread to the children. I didn't know how to curb that. The children also pleaded separately for me. Twice my friend was taken in the school bus and left in the wild and twice she came back. The third time she was left farther away and I never saw her after that.

Thirty years we've had cats at home: generation after generation. But those were pets. This memory is of my friend and  the pain that I didn't feed her even when she was pregnant."