My Aussie friend

Sitting at home and nursing my injury, my mind wandered to my school days at Don Bosco. Those beautiful days filled with nostalgia., I never ever can forget. For posterity’s sake, I decided to pen these today.

A close friend of mine Mr.V , now in Australia, was the leader of the mischief pack. The lunch boxes of a few students would be empty before lunch time and V along with a couple of close friends like me would be the beneficiaries. Their mothers made awesome food and we were very selective in choosing such lunch boxes. He was short and had the unique advantage of moving below the benches and come with these prized boxes. He never was caught in any of his mischief.

When the teacher turned to the black board, V would throw a chalk at the teacher, or suddenly make a weird noise or at least whistle. Those of the few sitting around him in class would be aroused to laughter, and would become the target of the teacher’s wrath. V, of course, always wore a cool innocent look.

In a particular lecture, he had brought with him a box full of marbles and at an appropriate moment chose to dispense with the contents of the box. The sudden jingling sound and students leaning forward to pick the marbles had the entire class in splits. The entire class had to write a particular English chapter five times by way of punishment.

V was curious by nature and always experimented with one thing or the other. There was a particular teacher who always wore a blue shirt. V sprinkled ink on his shirt just to find out whether the teacher changed his shirt or if he had several blue shirts.

V came to my house last week to invite me for a function. I heard him talking to my daughter on various career options. He told her that while making decisions in life, there would be confusion and anxiety. He beckoned her to look closely at these since the solution lay in the confusion itself.

It was in wonderment that I listened to my once upon a time mischievous V doling out perspective and wisdom to my little daughter.

Much ado about a day

I have always been amused by ‘Friendship Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Brother’s Day,Sister’s Day ’ and such other nicely christened days. In the eighties, we never had such days celebrated . I thought friends, father and mother were loved everyday and no nominated daywas required to bring love to memory. These, I suppose, naturally was felt then..

Some years later, we saw days celebrated with great aplomb, and cards, flowers, sweets and flowers distributed. Talk about the number of days in the year, and you have equal number of nominated days. The question that always hankers the mind is how did this all begin? The age of commercialization had arrived with a lot of publicity for celebration on these days. Is it necessary, and is this required are questions that may throw up answers depending on the genre and the context.

My grey matter tells me that there is nothing wrong as long as these convey a meaning and purpose to all of us. I would not like to be drawn into a debate on this issue and I am no one to play God. But the thing that I saw in the newspaper the other day was probably the cherry on the ice cream.

So much for commercialization sweeping the world today.

Thanksgiving

I am back home after my knee surgery. Fortunately, the surgeon is a close friend who assured me that I can play like Ronaldo. Now I am moving from the surgery phase to the convalescence phase. This phase is trying and testing, and relatively longer one. I am on crutches, my two recently acquired friends, and they are a great support.

A lot of visitors came to the hospital and home bringing with them their best wishes. A lot more came through messages and calls on my mobile. And you my friend bloggers too showered on me a lot of love, affection and good wishes.

A ‘Big Thank You’ to each and everyone for being with me when I most needed support and encouragement. Yes. I will now be seen more often in the blogsphere and be in constant touch. I have a lot of plans for the time I will be at home and I have decided to make the most of it, both professionally and personally.

Technology being what it is, I can be both at office and at home, with my boss as well as with my wife. It struck me that at home my wife is my boss. My first lesson is ‘Bosses do not spare you anywhere. One cannot just escape.’ Hmm.. what one cannot cure, one has to endure. That is true for my knee pain too.

Mind your step

After my teaching assignment at a college and while walking down the stairs, I missed a step and fell down injuring my knee. My body weight and the weight of my lap top coupled together ensured that I tore my muscle severely. Fortunately it is neither a fracture or a ligament tear. The lesson learnt is : do not throw your weight around. I also understood that I always seem to be missing a step or just that step in life.

The surgery is scheduled in a hospital close home. The interesting part is that I will have to take a month's rest for full recovery. I am aware that I will pay a huge amount to the hospital for just missing a step. But I am now making plans on the things that I can possibly do during this one month hibernation.

Several of my office colleagues, friends and well wishers have been visiting me during the last week, and a lot of humour has happened around my knee. My boss jokingly remarked ‘ Iyer, now really tell me whom did you fall for? While another remarked that one of my improvement areas would be ‘being weak kneed.’ The last straw on my back was my doctor nephew terming it the ‘knock knee’ and telling me ‘ you missed a step, from now on live life step by step.’ My friend, Kavi, as usual, came up with the icing on the cake. ‘It is not in the falling down, it is in the rising up.’ Honestly, I have enjoyed all the fun that came my way, and am sure these will help me spring back on my feet soon.

Life has been interesting this last week with so much attention being showered on me and my knees. I am grateful to all my well wishers and my family for so much love and affection. To ensure an appropriate end to this post, this picture clicked by me at the Delhi airport says it all.

That's the spirit

My friend lost his father and his in laws, three of them, in a space of a year. The elderly were bed ridden for four long years and were looked after by my friend, his wife and two daughters. Despite their official routine and daily chores, they tended to the elderly and were at their beck and call. The last of the elderly passed away last week.

I went to offer condolences and to appreciate them for their grit and ‘never say die’ spirit. During the conversations we had, what appealed to me was the part the elderly had played in the bonding of the family. The two daughters in particular were sharing the various lessons learnt from their grand parents, and felt those spaces would never ever be filled again. The anecdotes, folk tales, mythological stories and life experiences taught to them by their grandparents would always remain etched in the children’s mind. They conceded they had matured so much in the last three years and learnt their lessons on care, love, responsibility and accountability. Having been through thick and thin in looking after the bed ridden elderly , the entire family had in just a few years grown so much in love and affection for each other. They are today, as I look at them, a more complete family.

My friend, his wife and their two daughters were in close embrace when the preparations for the last rites were on. They hugged each other, sobbing that the last of their dear ones was gone. I saluted them for their endurance as the van carrying the body tugged along. May the spirit of the ‘Ramakrishnan family’ be always alive.

Strange but true

I had read of a birthday party of a three year old where children along with their parents were invited. As is the custom, gifts were showered on the birthday boy who accepted these with glee. Other children , naturally curious, wanted to see the gifts but the birthday boy refused to open them or part with them.

Children started throwing up tantrums and many of them were crying loudly to have a glimpse of the gifts. The little boy refused to share the gifts despite both his parents cajoling, pleading, bribing, threatening and playing all sorts of tricks on him. Birthday party turned into a nightmare.

Questions of significance are : Why did the parents behave the way they behaved? And why did the little boy behave the way he behaved?
Behaviour of parents is dictated by what parents of other children will think of them. Probably, other parents may say “ How have they brought up their kid? They haven’t even taught the kid to share”. The necessity to ‘look good’ in the eyes of others becomes more important than the necessity of the child to own and enjoy his gifts. So much so the parents will go even to the extent of beating the child on his birthday to teach him the value of sharing. What a beautiful birthday gift for the child, and what beautiful memory to grow up with.

As for the child’s behaviour, it needs to be understood that the gifts are his and he needs to possess and enjoy them before sharing them. Often we have seen that once children have enjoyed the possession, they themselves give the toys to others or just leave it lying in some corner of the room. That’s the psyche of children. Do adults easily part with their possessions? No. Often they come up with reasons like ‘the gift has sentimental value’ or some such stuff.

My learning is that many of the things we do has a pay off. But we need to remember there is also a heavy cost to pay.

An Idol to Remember

I am inspired by what Sujata wrote on Mahatma Gandhi . I am in agreement that today’s generation seem to know little about our ‘Father of the Nation.’ In the workshops that I conduct , I always draw examples of this great man and here is some of what I tell my participants.

I ask the participants – ‘What did Mahatma Gandhi say when he was thrown out of the train in South Africa?’ The reply that I often get is ‘we don’t know.’ I tell them I also do not know but my guess, looking at what happened between 1942 (Quit India Movement) and 1947(Indian Independence), is he would have said ‘ You threw me out of the train, I will throw you out of my country.’ Indeed he did it.

The Indian freedom started with Mahatma Gandhi declaring ‘ India will be free.’ It saw the light of the day on 15th August, 1947. My learning is that there exists so much power in language, conversation and declaration that it touched , moved and inspired millions of Indians to win freedom for their country. Freedom the world over has been achieved through declaration by some individual.

While concluding the session, I ask a question – ‘Who was Gandhiji’s neighbour?’ Generally I am greeted with stunned silence or some innocent ramblings. I conclude the session saying ‘Gandhiji’s neighbour will never be known. You need to be Gandhiji to be known.’