Turning and Turning in the Widening Gyre

“Turning and Turning in the widening gyre the falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; The centre cannot hold;Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world

- Second Coming

These lines echo in my mind as I mutely gape at the things happening around me – The Mumbai blasts, the terrosists attacks, the shoot out at Hyderabad,Neighbour’s defence….
As yeats in his poem quotes “The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity”
When the Mumbai blasts took place, there was fear, rage and sorrow in all the faces I passed by.
The countries spited each other for the mishaps. The governments blamed each other for the irresponsibilties. There were protests, marches, debates, processions running all over the country. The authorities resigned, The opposition celebrated , and the public continued to protest. The media had a continuous coverage of the ongoing events. There were marathon discussions in office, among friends, in the local bus, trains ..everywhere. The public was talking.

But that is all past. Now, except for a few glimpes in the news, and few articles here and there, there are not much of discussions, protests happening. The public seems to have forgotten.

One evening, just recently,I had been to visit my good old school teacher. A man in his seventies, I saw him reclined on his chair, in the verandah, scronfully reading the evening newspaper. As I approached , he smiled at me and said “ Did you see, what’s happening around?”
I sighed, smiled and relunctantly said “ That’s an ironical question. I feel nothing’s happening around. All seems to be over”

He nodded down, smiled, and urged me to continue.

“The war seems to have passified sir. The fury, the rage that I saw in the news, in the people, and every where is no more found!! “ my voice seemed to break.

I continued “Has the public so soon forgotten? What was the use of the hue and cry so far then? What happened to the war we all wanted to wage??”

He looked at me, but his gaze and thought were beyond.. he said “Wasn’t this expected? Things are happening as they should happen dear. All’s going as usual, don’t break your head over this”
I was perplexed “ Common sir, you are being sarcastic, aren’t you?”

As though being happy, to catch him red-handed he said “ you ask what’s the use of hue and cry? Actually nothing. The government, as planned has put a cut face for a few days. The traces of public’s memory of the incidents will soon fade. By then the elections will soon approach, and then the new government comes in,making the vociferous and unfulfilled promises. Everything is coming back to normal “

“Why are you being so cynical” I asked

“Because my dear, this is happening since the bygone past. Is it not? The 1993 Mumbai blasts, The godhra incident, the kargil war, the curfews in kashmir. Everything came and went by – but things are just the same.what difference, have we been able to make?” he demanded, with a charged voice.

“so now what then ?” I asked, confused.

“A war. As you said.A war must be waged. But not against the government. Not against the terrorists. Not against the religion nor the creed. But against the anarchy that is doomed upon us”

He continued “ My heart overwhelmed with happiness,when thousands of civilians marched in support of the military and vehemently condemning the government, after the taj incident. The unity brought in so much strength, no cast , no creed and no boundaries at all. “ He stopped.Tears filled his eyes, and I did not wanted to stop him “This unity dear,must last forever. The war must continue , against the anarchy. The protests have stopped. But the silent war must be raged by all of us”

“How sir?”

He sighed “ what is this thing called? Ah democracy!! What does it mean?”

“For the people,of the people and by the people” I replied

“ah yes!!! Everytime the war is raged on what did the xyz do for the people. But have we been asking what could be done by the people?”

“wage a war against the anarchy.wagea war by doing your duties well. This war should not end with the protests. To gain discipline and transperancy the public must work towards it. The government will not. The authorities will not. The public only should and could do it. Remember, democracy is by the people too”

The discussion continued for sometime.It was like a counselling for my troubled and restless thoughts. later bid adieu and was on my way back.

As I walked back home,I reconciled on my thoughts.
This war that had begun and ended , must be resumed. Not against anyone, but against us. Against the self. Questions should be shot at the intangible entity called conscience “ Am I being good bus driver? A good income tax officer? A good police officer? A good IAS officer? A good revenue offcier? A good taxi driver?A good business man? A good consumer? A good traffic police? Good student? Good teacher? We must ask it to ourselves. Answer it first. If you are content and guilt free, then blame any tom dick and harry.it’s accepted.

You might ask, how can a lay man bring a change?
I will tell you. The change must start from small things. Yes, from us.
If we really want to see the change, then we must be the change too.
Follow the traffic rules, pay the taxes correctly,throw the garbage in the dustbins only,pay the cable bill and current bill on time, don’t bribe to get the work done,seek the right to information, pay auto only by the meter charge..if we can list out things where we can correct ourselves we can.

This governemnt is ours. And it’s our responsilibity to correct it. If something is not right,we must stand up and have the courage to say it. Tell me ,if your house is on fire, do you blame your neighbour?
We compromise. Yes we do ! And when things go wrong, all of a sudden from no where our patriotism, the faults of others, the responsibilties all flush down..

It’s ok to bribe and get your liscene faster than 20 days..
It’s ok to convince the police with money and get off with traffic rules charge…
It’s ok to pay extra and get your work faster than others…
But it’s not ok..if government does not do it’s duties well..what justfication does this have?

I am not imagning an utopian world. Nor am I trying to be the saint. I am just reminding you and myself that ,change has to happen. And if it has to, then it must begin with us. As long as we are laid back, and think Mr. X, Mr. Y and Mr. Z will do it, then I assure you, they will not and things will remain the same.

If you really want to see the change,then bring it. Don’t wait for the second coming.
Be the change you want to see.

Fabuloso Viaje - A fantastic Journey

It begins with filling my heart.
All over.The Melancholy.
It streams down into the grooves of my heart, from the unknown origin.
The dark night outside, supervenes my restlesness.
A Restlessness. From where has it crept?
The wind roars outside,terrifying my fragility
---- What's making my heart heavy?
Is it the desire to have every thing?.....the urge to change something?
what is it?
The melancholy seeps down moving swiftly into my heart and nerves..I am sitting motionless--- I can no more bear the pain..tears roll down..
down and down..
the droplets that fall on my palm, mirror me, my drooped feeling-- a feeling to have everything.--- a feeling to change something.
Everyday i wake up with a desire to change the world and an urge to enjoy the world.
Its hard to do both. I realise.

I want to change everything around me.
When things don't go my way..I want to change those things...
But.. I drop down..
The zeal in me,
The want in me, is slowing down.
why can't I move up and break?
something is stopping me..
Is it a doubt..if I can reach the utopian?

I sense, am no more the only charioteer of my chariot.
If I were, things would go my way.
I heavily shut my eyes and lock them.
I turn around and walk down.Down in to my heart.Searching for the source.
I walk, walk and walk.deep, deep and deep.There is darkness, everywhere,everywhere.
No trace,no clue.
After hours, I see a light , far far away.
I see it..and I run, and run. fast and swift.panting, panting I stop.
Am catching my breath.There is light here, everywhere, everywhere.
Its the same world I see outside.At the same time, it's different.
There is light, everywhere here.
Immense and Intense.I shun my eyes from the glow.

The pasture beneath my feet is green and fresh..The sky far above me, is clear and bright..
There is silence here..yet, through it I can hear the water ripples..
the chirping birds...
the swinging branches....
the blooming flowers....
the buzzing bees...
Am in the wonderland?
Then I see a girl.
She is playing!
She has a bright face, lightened up with immense joy.
The Alice in the wonderland?
Lucky.I think and sigh.

Then, I suddenly hear a voice.Deep and Bold.
It starts speaking..
It says " You know her"
Perplexed, I reply " I don't"
" You do".
Am surprised now ...."Who is she?"
"She is you"
"I?" There is bewilderment in my eyes.
"yes the I, with a difference"
"???"
"Its an I with hope"
"hope?"
"si. She is like you. An 'I' with dream, vision and strength. But she has one thing more. The hope. The hope, to change. The hope to bring change. The hope to see change"
"???"
The bold voice says " You are the charioteer of your chariot.If things are not going your way, it's because of you.The world you see now, here, is your dream. A dream you have dreamt. A dream you want to live. You can make this dream live, only if....."
" if?"
"if...u have HOPE. never lose it. then you can do it"
"Do what?"
"what u dream" there is silence now.
After a long pause I hear the voice again.
It says "Be the alice in the wonderland"



Then, all of a sudden it ends.The voice and the light.I am pulled back.By the force and the wind.I am flying, backward.crossing the roads and the grooves, i had come by.I pass everything, in haste and speed.
I suddenly open. yes, my shut eyes.I unlock them and come out. My tears are dried.The deluge died.Outside, the dawn breaks.The sky drapes in orange. Its beams , slowly creeping up.I can no more hear the roars of the wind.There is breeze. The pleasent breeze from the far off land, rushes down , to soothen my bossom,to soothen my unknown pain, to soothen my hope and brushes me with a kiss...as a smile down"

Its My birthday!!

Hey...its my birthday today!! And it was a very very happy birthday..
Every year i just wait for this one day..coz this would be my day..and my day alone,and i would get all the attention I love!
Today was something very special...I am an employee now,and celebrated my whole day at office.
The previous night mom dad n bro had a yummy cake for me,and presented a cute little teddy!
All yesterday night i was busy with phone calls...and it was great to get that attention...
Today i got many gifts,by friends and collegues..and i bought myself a good book too from the exhibition that's put up @ our office.And the best part was,when i went in to buy a bag for myself...the shopkeeper, looking at my special dressing, asked if there was something special. To this i smiled and said that it was my birthday and began to stroll around to select a bag . Later, before giving me the bill he scribbled something on it and gave it to me ..as i eagerly took it to read, what he had written , i saw two lovliest words on it "happy birthday" . Don't you think, that made my day?! Yes it did actually :)
ha ha..on the whole had a lovely time..and i thank the one, sitting above, for giving me such a wonderful time and life every moment......:)

An ode to my doddappa...

Lives and relationships are so important;and we realise it only in the absence of the loved ones.Though we are all aware of this fact,I acknowledged it only after my doddappa’s(my father’s elder bro) demise just day before yesterday.He was here with us on May 6th,to bless my mom and dad on their marriage anniversary,and after he reached bangalore safely on 8th may,on 10th may we heard this news.All of us were shattered and wrecked.It was a blow to all of us.The eldest brother among the 8 sibblings,he was known for humbleness,caring nature and sensitivity.Though he was our maxpa,his age equalled to that of grandfather.so we all shared a kind of grandpa relationship with him.
He was a widower,and has suffered the loneliness almost for 20 years.As long as he was alive he had a feeling that everybody didn’t care for him.He thought he was cornered and not recognized.And as a matter of fact,yes we did take him for granted-as all of us do with all our old people.His duties were over,and he actually didn’t have anything to do.Any advice that he gave us was for free,and all of us,including his sibblings and their children and their grandchildren thought themselves to be the intelligenstia.
I know am going too personal,but something deep within me is asking me to write .As long as my doddappa was alive,I never took the oppurtunity to tell him that I care for him ,love him and concerned about him.And today,I repent that I haven’t bid him a loving adieu.After his demise,hundreds of people turned up,to have a glance of him.His chilhood buddies,class mates,bank collegues,close relatives and distant cousins.All of them were crying ,yelling and shedding tears.But what is the use?He is not there to receive it.As long as he was alive,every day,he waited for phonecalls from his friends ,brothers’ children ,collegues.But none returned a call.All of them,were apparently busy.And today when he was lying on the death bed motionless,all of us realised how important he was for us,and how many lives he had changed.Unfortunately,the law of nature is we don’t realise a person’s presence until his absence.
And this made me cry all the more.My doddappa wanted to be recognised.He wanted to hear from others “seshu,we love you and thank u for what all you have done to us “ ; though people thought of him like that,they never opened up to say this.I feel ,this is not an exceptional case.It happens with every man,who is alive .Tell me ,how many of us talk to our grandparents and other elders for long hours with patience,and just let them know that we love them..we assume that they are acknowledging the fact.But this incident reminded me that,feeling love towards someone ,is not equal to telling them “I love you,or care for you”
So this day I decided,that I will cherish every moment that I am going to spend with my loved ones.I shall tell them that I love them and care for them.I will make them feel that they are important to me-my grand mom,my uncles,parents,cousins ,every one.
I don’t know ,if this is all related to you in anyway.But the reason am writing this is,I want all of you to read it.I think you too can reconcile and realise how lucky you are to have loving family,and friends around you.I thank God,that he had given me a great man,my doddappa called sheshagiri rao.Though I didn’t tell him how we all loved him,as long as he was alive,today..i open up and want to tell him.

My dearest doddappa,
I love you.we all love you and care for you.You were a great man.A man of resilience and patience.you changed so many lives,and had been their saviour.We shall,as long as we live will feel obliged to you.I could not say these words when you were here,but nevertheless I know somewhere deep within and far away you will be hearing my words.I love you doddappa,and I will miss you a lot.Thank you so much,for coming into our lives.thank you.


Your’s loving niece
Nandita.

One Day Batting

You open the book.Read the first line.As you are moving to the second.You suddenly remember,you are thirsty.You get up ,go to the kitchen,search for the glass ,fill it and drink water. You come back,to the study room.Re-read the second line, as you move on to the third,you feel your face is very oily ,and its hot all over the room.You get up and switch on the fan. Come back ,sit and manage to read the whole page. Next,hunger pangs.you wonder why?you had your breakfast just now,how are you hungry again..probably too much of studying..you go out ask mom,if the lunch is ready.she frowns ,points out at the clock on the wall.Dissappointed you go back to study. Another 30 min you fidget with the stationary shop around you,and the printed pages before you.Your eyes start becoming heavy..something is happening.eyelids are closing down. You are not aware ,how much time had passed by,when you hear ,mom ‘s voice.you get up and stretch yourself.You cannot make out why she is scolding you,as you pay attention to her words,she is scolding you for sleeping.oh!! did I doze off? Yes you did. Next comes lunch,with music by mom in the background.”you have only one day for the exam,and how could you sleep?There is absolutely no seriousness.you are a grown up kid …..kjdkhfhjf..jdh..hfgfvvc!” You are determined in the post lunch period-“no ,I shall not sleep.i will finish 3 chapters,in 3 hours.take 10 min break and finish the rest.tomorrow I will revise,and day after tomorrow ,will write the exam without tension.Then I will be ahead of my friends..he he he” Unfortunately,the pre lunch schedule was imminent.You repeat,the same actions-drinking water,switching on the fan,fidgeting,having a stroll,remembering something suddenly,taking a break for 10 min which continues to another 60. Its evening,dinner time.you feel very tired,and go off to bed. While going to sleep you say to yourself “I still have tomorrow.i will utilise my time very well,and finish everything.I promise.” Next day,you get up early.5.30 AM.Go brush your teeth,and sit before the book.As you look into them,the letters are dancing and are becoming hazy.The next thing you see,when you open the eyes.Bright yellow sunrays,gushing through the window sills.Its 8 already! How could I doze off!! You curse yourself. The daily routine begins,bathing ,breakfast,quarrels with sibbling,glancing at the TV….adddf..hdyfgf…hyfdggc etc Now the time is 6.00 pm.Dad comes back from office,you’re watching TV.He friendlyly asks you “All prepared beta?” still looking at the screen,you answer “yes papa.I am”You manage to sit there for 2 min,slowly you get up and go to the room.Dad’s eyes follow you .You turn back, smile and say “ last revision ,dad” and you close the door. ”Panic panic panic!!” “how could I waste my time watching tv! God tomorrow is the exam! And I know nothing.And I tell them last revision.my foot!” You sit to study.No resolutions needed,no time limits.you go on studying.Time passes by,tension is increasing,you are going at a fast pace.But the speed is not sufficient.Mom calls for dinner.Food is no longer of any interest.You study…Its 11.00,then 1.00,then 3.00,then 5.00.Atlast,you managed to give it a reading.But there are few things to brush up.You can do it ,while going to college. All set.your lucky dress,your lucky pen.You pray to your favourite God.You are eating.You wouldn’t have minded if there was grass for breakfast.your attention is not on plate,but on the last minute notes.Get up,recheck your bag,hall ticket,pen,pencil,scale.yes all is set.Bid mama good bye…and give her a tight hug.Dad is dropping you.All the way to college,your attention is on the last minute note.you are mumbling something…trying to remember the points,recheck the notes.You reach college,bid dad good bye…before he wishes you all the best,you are already into the college gate.Desperate to meet friends.”would they be all prepared?Priyanka,the topper,she would have read everything.I know”you think. As you inter the class,you can feel the tension.All look like Albert Einsteins and Newtons.” Girls did you study?All prepared?”you ask your gang of friends. “ No yaaar….One day batting .you? they ask.Relieved by their answer,you reply with a sad smile” same here.Touched the book yesterday,in its true sense” Combined study continues for half an hour.Moments later,you are sitting on your respective tables.waiting anxiously for the exam paper.you have all together,planned for a team work.After a while,the question paper is before you.You quickly glance through each question ,as you read each of them,you mumble “ yes,I know this” “ ha..this is manageble” “hmmm easy one..can write” “little thinking needed,will answer it at the end”..on the whole ,the paper was not a shock.You look at your friend ,sitting back of you,she nods with a smile.you understand: paper is easy.in case of help,we will ask each other. After the exam ,you are all happy.Discussing the answers. Deep within a voice of yours thanks someone “ Thank you GOD…next time..no one day batting “ (But you subconsciuosly know,that one day batting is imminent )

Driving is an ART in India

Driving in India is an art in India.To be precise,it is a gruelling art.While it takes a great experience to drive on the kuccha roads of our villages—it demands for an altogether different mind set and practice to drive in our metropolitans and big cities.
Shockingly,the more you practice this art ,the greater challenges you face.
This art reguires the driver to be,
· Attentive, to react to unexpected moves by the co-commuters
· Smart,to change,break and make rules when situations demand
· Patient,to tolerate the chaotic traffic with a blissful smile
This sounds like a drivers’ qualification check list.But ,believe me ,driving amidst the traffic demands not only for a thorough physical practice but a mental training too.
A regular driver needs to have a regular health check up ,just to see if his BP is under control.
You are bombarded with several emotions(anger,fear , impatience) all along your drive,that it becomes humanly impossible to have a composed day,if the mind doesn’t get trained to the impassable traffic.
Thankfully,this training happens by itself.Once you are in the war field,you learn to shield yourself.

After good years of rugged experience you might start seeing great changes within you:
You might calm down and play less heed to irritable sounds viz. unsoothning vehicle horns, loud arguments, obnoxious abuses and shrieking bus tyres.
You might begin to accept the traffic violaters,learning license drivers,confused and nervous drivers.
You might become indifferent to kuccha main roads,over flowing drainages and perennially ‘under repair’ roads

You learn the philosophy of driving “Expect the unexpected”—Day dreamers crossing the roads at their own leisure, unexpected break downs, sudden vehicle encounters from the opposite directions.

In that short span drive ,you get to know the varities of driving –The Bold Driving,The confused Driving,The careless Driving ,The Indifferent driving and lastly the Ladies Driving.
The most pitiable people amidst this violent drama,are the traffic police –The uncared,The unimportant and The Unseen.Basking under the scorching sun,the only benefit they get is the timely salary,and if they are lucky enough, they might have a bumper chance of “ fine” given by traffic violaters.

A Deliberate Mockery:

What is all this?
A deliberate mockery.
How long shall we tolerate and be a part of indifference and indiscipline.
The indifference and indiscipline among us.The public.

Marathon meetings,Excellent Budget plans,Incentive and warnings by the authorities of least help ,if the change doesn’t germinate within us.
There is no Government that is devoid of corruption and irresponsibilty.why then,are other countries progessing faster than us?
The reason : WE. The cause: OUR ATTITUDE


‘Let Go Away’ attitude must be curbed.sophistication must be cultivated.

Try not to exceed speet limits,
Try not crossing the red signal,
Try not overtaking others,
Foot paths are only for the foot pathers,enjoy the privilege….Just for one day!

This problem does not confine only to traffic,but extends to the whole of our country affairs.Be it Government,Corporates,Institutions.Everything.
We must realise that we are the means and bondage for a “change” to occur.
Believe me,as long as ‘A’ does not change,’B’ wouldn’t and ‘C’ will never.

Let us bring a meaning to the word ‘democracy’—By the people,For the people and To the people.
The mantra for today’s success is :BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE

The philosophy of problems

This is not a discourse on “steps to success”. Nor, is this write up intended to be one of the bombarding personality development sessions. It is merely an expression of my troubled thoughts and ambiguous living that seemed to end in an unexpected manner.
I feel God has given me the largest number of choices to be angry about. If am to list out “Things that make me angry “am bound to be a contest winner.
Every thing in this world seems to be a problem to me. Right from the alarm that rings in the morning to the noisy crickets at night, all are problematic!
As my daily chores begin, I realize my impatience brimming out of me----My books are never in place. Nothing of my favorites is for break fast; my vehicle never starts before making noise and drawing the frowns of my neighbors. In class, teacher glares at me, for opening my mouth. Curd rice for lunch supervenes my furious mood…this way; my day never seems to end. Tons of homework, exams, gossips, friends…At the end, my day seems to be busy and tiring but never full. These, so called trivialities seemed to undermine my potential until one day dawned….
That day everything seemed to have changed…
My books were on the table…just that I had to put them in my bag
My vehicle did not start-I thanked God… I would, save petrol by bus…
My Teacher glared at me, this time I had a companion-my friend. I was happy I shall not be alone if I was thrown out.
Brinjal -the distasteful curry for lunch-just then my friend yelled “wow! Brinjal! ”-that day sandwich was my treat
This way, things suddenly seemed to fall in place. The sun was no brighter, but the day was. I seemed to get out of my doldrums…
How could it? … Somewhere deep inside I had an answer...

What had happened?

It was 31 December --the night before this beautiful day had dawned, my friend and I were having an evening stroll.Too bored to celebrate the pompous New Year, we decided to give the year a short adieu.
It is necessary that the reader must be introduced to my friend first.She is a small ,dark girl.Her father’s is a clerical job.She is studying in a regional governement college.She is not a very bright student,but has a flare for painting and colours.She loves food,dance,friends ,movies gossips..Wait. I think she almost loves everything she does.
Coming back to where we started.we were taking a stroll, when we came across two urchins who were playing the good old “train, train “game, holding each other’s sleeve and running in a circle.
Looking at them I sympathetically commented” I wish I could give them all my toys to play.They would have been so happy” My friend cut me off saying “ I bet you cannot make them more happy” she paused,looked at me and continued “what makes you think they are not happy?” .I shrugged and kept quiet, though a little disturbed. As we moved along, we came across our house maid’s hut.In dim lit light,she was cooking food and chatting with her nighbour.When we passed by,she shyly smiled at us,smiling back at her I said to my friend” Poor soul! How hard she works, working at houses, cooking food for children, no hygenic food” as I was about to go on, my friend took the lead “she hardly needs your sympathy dear!I think she is enjoying what she is doing.well,I suppose that is why she is living” she answered sarcastically.

This time evidently embarrassed, I defiantly asked her”what’s your problem?”
To this, my friend loudly chuckled and asked back” I should ask you that-what is your problem?”
Inadvertently came my reply “you are mocking me! Everything I say seems to be a problem to you”
Mockingly she said” He! He! Is it you who is saying this? You seem to have a problem about everything in life-right from your alarm clock to the stuff you are made off!”

I was appalled.I never expected the serious tone from her.She didn’t stop and continued” You have a problem with everything Neha.Your books are a problem to you,your bike is a problem,your lunch is a problem.The whole world is a problem to you.Infact,this word problem is a big problem to you!”

“Why, is problem not a problem to you” I questioned fighting back my tears.

“No” she replied calmly.”Problem has never been one to me.To put it this way, I never look at problems, I deal with them”

Uh!! It was a jolt to me! I needed an explanation.she guessed it and continued…” Neha, if we were to think problems as problems,we could have not managed to have lived this long.If you are one person having one problem,there are millions out there fighting with millions of problems.Believe me,you are not alone.” The ball was still in her court, she continued, “Have you ever heard of the word TAKE IT EASY?” It was a mockery again.I shrugged looking down and continued walking.

“Take life easily Neha.Anything that comes to you is short lived.You really don’t have to somersault,take it ,crush it,and grumble about it.There are a few things in this life ,which you should just let go”

My ego was still burning.I simply listened to her.

”Look at me.I am short, and dark.I go to a government college,I slog,I sleep late.I take care of my grand mother.I wanted a bike since 12th class,so far I have not bought it.I have no new dress,for the festival.If I and you were to compete auctioning our problems.I bet,I will win!”

It was a jerk!! I stared at her.she didn’t have to be so hard on herself! I tried to put the same in words, but she stopped me and continued” But I do not look at things that way! I am happy that I have loving family.I am happy that I am educated, though not a rank student.And am proud that I paint well, which makes me happy again.Don’t you see, it’s so easy to look the other way round?”

I smiled back at her, and she returned it back with a much brighter one!When we reached my home,we stood at the door steps.There was a minute’s silence.As though ,coming out of some far world ,my friend said “ Well,Time to go!good night”
Smiling I said “Hey! I think I will give the loudest bonvoyage to this old year-with loads of problems, worries and complaints”
She took a minute to understand, then chucked aloud and said” he…he…Right! Go ahead! Good night”
We bid, hugged and parted for the night.
As I was getting inside the house, my thoughts ran “I have been with her for 15 years now, why did she tell this to me today? Why did I talk about my maid today? About the children? May be it is called providence.. the just time to change”

Anyway the bottom line is: My new year,I was sure,was going to rock!”

Bachelors of Arts

I always face queer reactions and responses when I answer- “I have done my honors in BA”---
“Why BA? Why didn’t you take up science or commerce?”
“Oh I suppose you got less in intermediate!”
“Hmmm depends on intelligence...”Or they simply shriek” what? BA?”
Apart from creating anger and embarrassment, these reactions lead me to persistent questions like “what is wrong in doing a BA?” “Is Arts not a subject of study?”
I decided to probe for answers.
Asking a few friends and acquaintances I have come to understand that many misconceptions have been reared about arts since these past few decades—
“That art are very easy… That only less intelligentsia take up the course…and that they are irrelevant to the present”

It is piquing to accept these misconceptions (as art students) when we know it is so untrue.
The difference in the degree of prominence between arts and other disciplines is due to the change of emphasis in our thoughts, needs and social demands. While science and commerce disciplines cater more to livelihood, the Arts discipline is richer by a degree as it caters to life itself. Today Science and commerce rein the world and Arts has become ancillary. Amidst these gigantic disciplines, students competing against each other to grab engineering and medical seats, it’s natural to awe at a student who decides to pursue arts as a career.

“Why in the world has a student taken up Arts besides these competitive subjects?” is an imminent question!! In this write up, I endeavor to answer this question” why Arts?”

Arts are taken up for the sake of it. Picasso said” Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth”
Arts are the unique disciplines of knowledge that teach us life. They are called humanities as they deal with the basics of human nature and life. They deal with those subjects that can be implemented in all walks of life.
Literature, Economics, sociology, History, Psychology etc, they may not assure us an affluent life but they ensure our success as a full fledged human being. Each subject is a revelation of reality.
In literature, we are introduced to vast knowledge of life and its nature. Through the poems, novels and dramas we learn lessons through others experiences and expressions.
We read life and not just books!!
When we read Tennyson’s Ulysses we learn the importance of life, Tagore’s “where the mind is without fear” we learn to dream for a utopian world, Kalidasa’s ‘Abhignana shakuntala’ we learn the beauty of love and affection.

History introduces us to our rich tradition and culture. We learn the greatness of man through the large civilizations, the empires he built the conquers he made. We learn that to live we should strive. We learn the past and its impact on present. We understand the differences that caused change. We read History simply because History repeats.

While Psychology is the scientific study of Human behavior, sociology is the study of man as a social being. Economics, the pivot on which the whole world is balanced and Journalism equips us for effective communication.

Every subject is an art in itself. We must learn to enjoy life and art enables us to do so. It teaches us to look at life in a different perspective. Only a selected few who have the inclination for aesthetics can pursue Arts. Arts require patience and practice. I have taken up Arts by choice and not by chance---Just for the love of it!
It’s not important as to which stream you choose. All that matters is how you perform. Our excellence depends on our ability and not on the course we select.
If I echo the sentiments of Robert Frost and say” I chose the road not taken and that has made all the difference”

My short term job

“Ooo…la” I shrieked as I clicked down the phone after answering my uncle’s call. “At last my boring mornings and lengthy afternoons are going to come to an end” I thought. My uncle had at last had searched a job for me. Sitting idle for 6 months with an MBA degree in hand was unimaginable. Though I was shifting to New York along with fiancée, it would be impossible to spend my days dreaming about my rosy future for the next 6 months. I had to do something. But which company would give a job for six months. So the search had become a little difficult. Nevertheless my uncle made it. He had kept the ‘job opening’ as a surprise and said would tell me in person. So on Sunday we invited him for lunch.
“So uncle, what job have you searched for me?” I asked eagerly, as we sat at the lunch table.” You will be very happy to know, and excited to work” he said” It’s a teacher’s job” .Resting his gaze on me he continued “at an orphanage” My mother’s was the first reaction” what will she do their Ramu” she chuckled. “Sangha sevaki preethi!” My brother said and gave a short laugh .My father frowned at him and there was silence.
It took me sometime to come out of the jerk. All my enthusiasm drained out I asked” Ramu mama, is this job suitable for an MBA graduate?”
From the day my search for my short term job had begun, I had chalked out the most suitable and convenient jobs for me. I had dreamt to sit in a call centre and talk in a foreign accent-I thought it would make my life easier in New York.
Had hoped, I shall become a short term Research Assistant, and help my boss come out with a thesis. A consultant job would not be bad, I thought. At least a personal secretary job in a leading firm would do.
I know I was demanding too much. But tell me, do dreams have an end and greed a limit? My retrospection ended and I came back to the present .All were looking at my uncle .He had begun to speak” what do you think? It’s a right job for any and every human being” he emphasized. I opened my mouth to defend, but he disapproved it with a wave of hand and continued” Before you’re an MBA graduate, you are a human being. And helping a person to mould into a better human being is the greatest job you can ever do “At this point my father looked at me, as though he was reading my mind. As an approval to his guess I said” But mama, what will I teach them? Marketing? Finance? Stats?” I laughed within myself.
“That’s up to you” my uncle began. “You teach them anything. The authorities of the orphanage had requested me to find a volunteer who can spend time at their school and groom their children. I thought you would be interested. If you’re not, then forget it. We will search for another job, where you will know what to do” This time his voice was grim. Silence enveloped the scene and all were waiting for my answer. Not to dishearten my uncle and break my father’s IDEALISTIC DAUGHTER image, I resolved to take it as an experience albeit resenting this queer venture.

The first day of my job dawned. All through the way to the orphanage with my uncle, I was enveloped in thoughts and doubts…”what shall I talk to them? What can I teach them? Would they know English? How do I react?
My introspection halted as we reached the destination. We were greeted by madam shyamala. After a little tête-à-tête, I was briefed about the children at orphanage. There, we were told, children ranged across various ages. From 5 to 15.They were either abandoned by their relatives or were born orphans. So dramatic was her narration, that I actually imagined all the children sitting in a room and brooding over their lives.
Quite contrary to my imagination, as I entered the hall, the gossiping and murmuring stopped .All the children got up and greeted me in one tone” Good morning teacher” Madame shyamala who was standing beside me whispered “They were expecting you” I nodded back and gestured the children to sit. When she left, I still had no clue as to what to speak. The children as madam shyamala had noted ranged from kids to teenagers-Tanned skins, oiled hair, cleanly washed faded clothes-these were my first observations. As I was still contemplating on what to speak, a girl from the group asked “didi, what is your name?” Surprised and quite pleased by her uninhibited gesture, I replied “preethi” and asked back “what yours?” “Kamala” came the reply. When I smiled and nodded to her, a boy from the group shot “won’t you ask my name?” This time truly surprised by his demand, I giggled and asked his name. ”Raja” he said proudly. At this point an unexpected commotion began in the group- voices shouting “didi I will tell my name” “ mine too” “pinky” “hey you stop, I will tell first”” No me”
Unexpecting this, my reflexes took the lead.” Hey stop! Stop! Well if you don’t I shall not give you chocolates tomorrow” I didn’t expect to say this. I gave a gap, and the unrest rested. I continued” yes, I am planning to get you all 100 chocolates! If you keep quite I will get them. Do you like them?” “Yes!” they shouted. Smiling, I thought my first class has thus begun.
The next hours of the class were spent in introductions, warnings, giggles...
When I went back home in the evening questions were ready to attack me. ”How was it?” “Were they naughty?” “What did you teach them?” To all I gave one answer” It was good. I enjoyed it”
As I was retiring to bed, thoughts ran across my mind. I had meant the word “enjoy” more than it signified. What was it? That word...satis...Groping for the word, I stepped into sleep.

My consequent classes seemed to get on fast and short. I had begun to feel at home here. My day started with a heart full good morning from the children. Most of my time at home was spent in making color charts, dolls, recollecting grandma stories and taking suggestions from my mom.
I no more had to think on what to teach them. They implicitly told me what they had to learn-Their behavior was to be disciplined, their minds had to be directed, their language had to be modified, their hygiene had to be rechecked. On the whole they had to be ‘tailored’.

I began to learn their names by heart. I began to understand what made them happy and what made them cry.
Surprisingly they were never a bore to me. Their uninhibited behaviors, untainted expressions, intimate demands pulled me nearer to them. I began seeing a new identity in me. The one which I never knew had existed.
I used to talk to them hours together. Tell them about the stars in the sky, the fishes in the water, the demons and the Gods.
While the teenagers shared with me their untold desires, the kiddos talked about their untold ideas. I listened to both of them and was discrete enough to react to both.
This new identity that I began to own, was different from the others which I had already owned-daughter, sister, friend, partner. This one was called ‘preethi’. I never had to pretend in front of them. No norms or rules. Just being myself -preethi
My classes were no one way teaching. It was a two way. While I taught them what to do for their living. They taught me how to live.
There was inextinguishable energy in them. Their power to smile under all situations made them superior to me. They had no regrets. They did things because they wanted to.
To them taste didn’t matter, but food did. Clothes didn’t matter but clothing did. Beauty didn’t matter but affection did. With I had learnt t live a life that I had never lived.

When the time had come to leave, I wished I had never come here. For I never knew parting from loved ones would mean so much pain. Through the tears of each child I could see the reflection of my own sorrow. ”Didi when will you come back?” one asked. Before I could answer “you will come back na? Why are you crying then?” Said other. I had no answer for either of them. The only reply I managed to give them was a hug.
As I drove back home, my thoughts were running fast “Job. That is what I had wanted. A job that was suitable for an MBA graduate. I taught them nothing I had learnt. Rather I had learnt what I had unlearned”