How punishments shape our life

In the recent years, I have friends who have kids, and sometimes I get to hear anecdotes from their life. Most of them are hilarious, smart and witty for a 4 year old, you must think. And then, I also get to hear on certain days

“I am feeling so guilty, I shouted at my kid”

“I am feeling so bad I scolded my kid”

“He/she has become so naughty. I actually threatened to hit him/her”

This makes me wonder, how would our parents have reacted, every time they scolded us or even better when they gave us those bruises.

Well, to be fair to my mom, I have disobeyed her so many times, lied to her, back answered etc, which has resulted in me getting punishments.

One day, when I was in 2^nd standard, it was a daily activity of me going to a friend’s house which was in the next road. My deadline was to be back home at 6.30 pm. But that fateful day, we went to another friend’s house and we forgot about the time, and mom had come searching for me, along with the aunty (mom of my other friend). That day I was locked up in the Toilet, reason – I lied to her about going to Friend A’s house and not Friend B’s house, and also not adhearing to dealing. Well, after that I was really scared about skipping the deadline.

Ofcourse, later she made me sit on her lap and explained what my mistake was. Also, I lost the fear of being locked up alone in a room.

Another time, by this time I overestimated me to be super smart. I thought, “Everytime mom hits me I tell her, not to hit me and I am sorry. So if I tell to hit me, then she might get all senti, and stop hitting me.” Wonderful idea I patted myself.

So that day when I did something worthy of getting a beating, I did something which mom never imagined I would do. She hit me with her hand. I went to the room, got a belt from inside handed it over to her in a filmy style and said “You want to hit me, then take this and hit me. Atleast your hands wont hurt Ma”

Now what happened next was totally opposite to what I had imagined “My mom took the belt and hit me”. The reverse psychology theory did not apply here. And all I remember was never to use my smart brain when mom is angry. I never told her ever again “hit me”.

Much later, she checked if there were any wounds and I never even felt that I was beaten some time back. It made me stronger, everytime I would get hit by accident or even if I bumped into things. I could just brush it away and continue with my work.

Once, only because I lied, I had to wash vessels, including idli plates, milk vessels etc. May be that’s is why I love washing vessels now. The shine in those vessels brings a smile to my face. Any I digress. So, if you see, my punishments were not always getting hit, they were some essential things which we need to know.

I have not washed many clothes, may be that’s why I am not very fond of it, and let the washing machine handle all the stress.

Today, if I have sweep, or clean the floor with water and a mop, or wash vessels, or do dusting. Basically all these household chores, I have learnt it as a part of some punishment, and when I do any of these activities, I do it perfectly. So any time our maid is on holiday, and I do these chores at home, the floor is sparkling like a mirror and no dust, and the vessels are sparkling clean.

And I must admit,  inspite of all these punishments, I have been pampered a lot, loved a lot. A small sneeze or a cough will result in multiple calls from my parents, and even though it becomes annoying, it feels nice to know that you are being loved by them.

May be my mom, also felt guilty when she was punishing me. And everytime I get punished, I could see her in more pain. So I am sure, it was more of a punishment for her than me.

So for all the punishments, which have helped me shape up, I would really like to thank mom.

“Like every after every storm, the sky is clear
After every incident like this, I could see the love for me in my mom’s eyes more clearly.”

“Like how a goldsmith, shapes his gold

Every incident has shaped me into what I am today”

Chitradurga : Rural Reach Program - Part II

Part 1 is here - Chitradurga RRP

The students were divided into groups of 50 (on avg), and finally I was allocated to a set of girls. They were seated in a circle, and I was at the centre. I had the feeling of a performing artist, and that I would be judged by them .

I uttered my first few words (in kannada, ofcourse) : “Yellarigu namaskara. Nanna hesaru Arathi” (Greetings everybody my name is Arathi)

I heard a few girls in chorus “Kellastilla miss” (we can’t hear you miss)

“Oops” was my reaction. Then I did what any sensible person would do…

“Oh ok.. Lets come a little closer shall we”. And it was a feeling of the earth moving, closing in on me, if I can say. All the 50 chairs moving towards me.

And then I asked them: “Can you hear me now”…. Again a chorus “Illa miss”

I now decided I dint want a circle… It’s not circus, and I cannot look at half of them. So I made them sit in 3 rows of concentric semicircles. And then asked them the same question. A little louder this time “Iga Kellasta idiya” (Can you hear me now). And in chorus again they answered “Yes miss”

I remember how in school, we would wish our teachers when they came inside our class “Goooood Morning Miss”, I never thought somebody would call me miss J

Anyway back to my class. I repeated my name and told them that they were going to learn about computers alright.. but before that they had to tell me, what they knew about it.

When I asked them the school name. I got an answer alright.. but again in chorus.. “fndsklncfffsfksdlk” is what I understood. I requested one of the students to answer “Priyadarshini Girls High School”.

I now understand, why teachers asked us to lift our hands… You just can’t understand what these kids tell you when in chorus J

I divided them into 4 groups so that I could get different opinions… They first told me what they knew…

“It’s an electronic machine”

“You can play games”

“You can talk to each other and also look at each other, face to face, even if you are countries apart”

“You can communicate easily”

“You can get lot of information”

And much more… I was trying to formulate my plan, on how to tell what to these kids.

And, I also tried to get what goals these kids had. Some wanted to be teachers, doctors, police, software engineer, military, district commissioner and some of them had no goals. So I tried to tell them how computers would help them in any field they wish to take up.

We started off with switching on the laptop. Only why laptop is called a “LAPTOP”. How a monitor looks. What a keyboard and mouse does.Then I made 4 of them come front to enact as monitor, keyboard, processor and a user and showed them how a computer does simple things like addition of 2 numbers.

And then after a lot of anecdotes and examples, I now let the kids use the laptop. The moment everybody were waiting for. I opened up MS-Paint for them. They went crazy over it. It was as good as how the toddlers feel when you introduce them to the actual paint.

I felt a bad, since there was only 1 laptop and so many kids, so rationing the usage time was very difficult. It had already been 2 hours and we hadn’t realized.

One of their teachers came upto me asking if the class is over and if he could take the students. The students dint want the class to get over, I did not want the class to get over. But the time was up. Infact we were supposed to have the class for some more time, but it seems the students had to leave since they had to have breakfast and also, their teachers were waiting.

This was the pic.. my students created in ms paint.

With heavy heart, we had to let go of each other. With a lot of good bye miss, and then shaking hands (I felt like a celebrity), we took a couple of selfies. “Bye miss” “Bye miss” was heard continuously for a couple of minutes. As I was packing my bags, I could feel “Inner peace”, if only for a few minutes. One of our collegues came and asked me, how I felt. Though there was a flood of feelings in my mind, all I could muster at that point was “Amazing” (with thumbs up). The “Bye Miss” brigade was still on, and I was waving to the kids.

The moment reminds me of the song, from the movie “Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara”

“der lagi lekin…maine abhi jeena seekh liya..
aasuon ke bin.. maine ab hai jeena seekh liya”

We returned to our rooms, and then thought of going to the park which was right next to the Math. As we were near the entrance, we saw some students leaving the campus. A group of girls came near me. These were the same girls in my class. So they asked me where I was from. Then one of them asked me for my phone number. I oblidged. And then another girl asked “Miss, can I have your autograph”. I was in shock. Somebody is asking me for my autograph… I don’t remember anybody ever asking me for this. So I did give my autograph to 2 of them.

After all this, the students left for the day. We roamed around the math, then the park. If anybody is going to Chitradurga, the fort is a must visit, and if you have some time, do visit the park too.. A very good theme park, on showing how human evolution has happened etc. There were lot of people visiting.

Around 4.30 PM, we started from the place, and finally reached our homes by 9.30 PM. It was a day very well spent.

Chitradurga : Rural Reach Program

“Teacher’s pet is that you?”. If someone had asked me this question, I would never have said yes. But if someone asked me, “Teacher, is it you?” I would have said yes. I have always liked teaching from my childhood, from helping friends to teaching my brother and other cousins.

So, when I got this opportunity to attend a CSR (corporate Social Responsibility) activity, from my office, I pounced on it. We were to go to Chitradurga (CD) and create awareness among the students, how to use computers, what to do with and how it can help in any career decision they make.

This post might get too long, since I want to pour in every little detail from that experience.

The program: students from around 20+ schools will be gathered in Murgha Matt in Chitradurga. Around 25 volunteers from our company would go there, to provide the awareness about the most basic thing in our life these days – COMPUTERS.

The Trip: We start from our office at 4.30 pm. I don’t know any of the other guys and gals, and initially everybody was in their seat, trying to catch a power nap. Slowly, introductions happened and I got to speak to some of them. There was heavy rain and the wipers in our van had some problem, due to which there was a delay. So with a break and delay due to rain, we reached CD at 9.30 PM. We were provided with food and accommodation at the Matt. The food was very yummy, and it helped that we were hungry. The matt itself was very spacious and calm. After a little chit-chat, we were told to assemble at 7.30 AM next morning, and all of us retired to our rooms.

I couldn’t sleep well that night, since I was a little nervous and very excited. But finally around 1.30AM, I think fell asleep. Around 5.30 AM, I could hear birds chirping, and I could no longer stay on bed. I went out, and it was a chilly morning. I spent a few minutes there, and finally came back to bed. By 7.30, we were ready and were at the meeting place in few minutes. After a few instructions, we were told about the day’s program. Then started the photo session. We clicked quite a few group pics. Around 8.30 AM, we went to have breakfast. We ate Uppit, Kesari bhat and tomato rice. It was very tasty. We then went back to our rooms to get our laptop bags.

Around 9.30 we walked towards the big hall where the program was to start. As we were closer and we could see the students, there were butterflies in my stomach. We saw lot of chairs on the stage, and lot of chairs on the side. We were walking on the side, where we couldn’t see the chairs kept. Just when we were wondering where we were going to sit. I saw some of our group members walking up the stairs and nearing the chairs on the stage. That’s when it struck. We are going to be on stage. “OMG!!!!!!!!, we are going to sit on the stage”

Well, after settling on the stage, I saw how it felt to sit on the stage looking at the audience. Usually I am on the other side. We had to keep a straight face and not behave funny, obviously with 800-900 students looking at us. But it was fine, we got used to it. In a few minutes, Dr. Sri Shivamurthy Murugha Sharanaru, who is the present pontiff of the Math arrived. The introductions happened, we were given roses, a micro mini speech by one of our representatives was followed by the speech from guruji.

I have always detested speeches, but there are very few speeches which I have enjoyed, and this was one of them. For 2 reasons, it was short, and it was interactive. First few minutes he iterated to the students, how computers are useful in life, and how they can benefit that day from our visit. Then he gave an example of animation movies, example of content from TV, then turned into an interactive discussion with students. The answers the kids gave were also entertaining. Finally he ended the speech mentioning, how they should utilize this opportunity.

Once the speech was completed, they mentioning, honoring of our group by the guruji. I was stunned. This has never ever happened to me. So when my name was called, I did namaskar to guruji and he put the shawl over me, gave me a gift (book), and showered some flowers on my. I thanked him and came back to my seat. All 25 of us were felicitated. Our group also, had taken a mala and fruits for guruji. After the vote of thanks, all the dignitaries from the stage departed, and the teachers started segregating the groups, for the classes. The actual program for which we had come. It was like waiting for “Moment of Truth”.

To be Continued........

Something yummy to eat?

Last Sunday G was supposed to be working, and he told me I was free to make my own plans… Now before you think G is a controlling husband, and I need to take his permission, that’s not the case. He is an awesome husband, who just dint want me getting bored at home, while he was going to be glued to his laptop.

Anyway on Saturday, G’s cousin called to invite us for the birthday party. I had my mind prepared for it, that I would be going for the party, with my mother-in-law.

On Sunday afternoon, G says one of his friends has invited for a get together at home. Nothing formal, just the usual drinks and snacks kinda party. So I asked the most logical question “What about your work”. For which his reply was also logical “If work is over sooner, then we go”. Now I dint know if I could go to the birthday party or no. Finally in the evening, it was decided that I will go ahead to the birthday party, and G will call me once work is over, so I could then come back and we could go to the friend’s house.

As luck would have it, I got busy and couldn’t pick his call early. By the time I could pick the call, it was late, and by the time I was back home it was eight (that rhymes J ). We couldn’t go to the party, since it was quite far, and made no sense just to go for half an hour. So G, said choose a place to go, let’s go for dinner. I was stuffed with Bisibele bhat, jaamun, cake. But anyway I thought and in few minutes I said Hard Rock Café. G gave me a “In this traffic” look. Finally, we dint go anywhere and he ate what we had got from the cousin’s house.

On Monday, while returning from work, he said “I want to go eat something yummy”

My next logical question “Where?”
He says “You decide”.
And before I could come with something “And don’t just say something.. Think about it… Not like yesterday where you say Hard Rock Café and we take hours to reach it”

Then the conversation went like this:

Me: Fine.. then you decide…

G: Why should I every time?
Me: Coz, I don’t think and tell. I just blurt out stuff
G: Yeah you should think and tell.
Me: So what? Is there a place, we really really really want to go?
G: Yes, there is
Me: Which one?
G: there are lots
Me: Name one.
G: There are so many
Me: Fine… Name ONE
G: *Silence*
Me: I am waiting
G: You should know
Me: *seeing stars now… How on earth is it possible* I know we both love each other and all that.. But if you don’t know where you really want to go. How am I to know where you really want to go, without you knowing it?
G: *confused* What.. Don’t change the topic.
Me: Fine.. let’s go anywhere you want to go.. I am not the fussy one here

Finally, we went to a new place.. It  was an ok place, we are definitely not going to go back there, not worth it.

But next time G says “Let’s go to eat something yummy”, I know which place to suggest ;)  *two red horns on my head…. Don’t mess with me.. muahahaha*

DIL.. who is the DIL

I got this forward a couple of days back, and I am just not able to control my laughter after imagining a scenario:

So first the forward is this:

FIL : Father-in-law
MIL:Mother-in-law
BIL: Brother-in-law
SIL:Sister-in-law
But the Heart of the family is DIL: Daughter-in-law. She Takes care of the  family.

My take on this above forward:

 

Now Imagine this situation. There are guests at home, and introduction is in progress.

So the husband introduces his Wife. So XYZ, please meet my beloved wife – ABC.

Imagine instead the in-laws introduce her to guests. So XYZ, milo humari DIL se. Husband is wondering, when his wife became their DIL J

Also, imagine all the songs which have DIL in them.

If the D-I-L is kidnapped by someone :  Chura ke DIL mera aaaaa..goriya chali

When the in-laws are trying to convince her for something and she doesn’t agree, they are singing : DIL hai ki maanti nahi…

And ofcourse when she acts crazy : DIL to pagal hai…DIL deewani hai or humari DIL bhi kitni pagal hai

While she is pregnant, their future grandchild sings… Hum Aapke DIL mein rehte hain

If they are Shaqqi in-laws : DIL to hai DIL, DIL ka aitbaar kya keeje

When she is in trouble and they are trying to sympathise with her : Ae DIL hai mushkil hai Jeena bada

When her husband is not around.. and they are teasing her :  DIL deewani.. bin sajna ki

If she is of shayaraana andaaz : DIL aaj shaayar hai

If they want someone to hear her voice : DIL ki awaaz sun

And if they want to kill her : KILL DIL… KKKKK KILL DIL… KILL DIL……

Cant think of more songs right now.. but let your imagination go wild……

Birthday Parties

Yesterday, I went to attend a birthday party of a 3 year old, G’s cousin’s son. As kids came into the house. There were more than a dozen kids, since there are lot of kids on that road, also since the cousin has a daughter and her friends were invited too. The party was no doubt very noisy, with kids chattering away to glory, and felt good, seeing them so excited about the birthday party.

This incident took me back to the birthday parties we would attend. Anytime between 4.30 – 6.00 PM we would be invited for the cake cutting. I would be forcefully made to wear a nice dress (something frilly) , and then the face would be painted with the Ponds powder, and a nice bindi, matching bangles and earrings. At times I would even protest, “It’s not my birthday Ma”. After all this, I would be given a box wrapped in presentation cover.

“Give this gift to your friend after the cake cutting” would be the instruction. “And don’t spill anything on your dress” would be added. “Yeah right, that’s what I am going for, to spill the ‘to be tasty cake on my dress’ and get back to get scolding” would be my thought bubble.

As soon as you reach the friend’s house, there would be balloons in everybody’s hands, and some of them would be munching on a few chocolates and biscuits, which would be kept on a tray in the centre of the hall. Far off, you would see the dining table, where you would see glasses filled with orange coloured liquid, and next to it would be a big bag of chips, and if you were lucky enough, you would also see pakodas or samosas. These would be served to you later, after the main event.

You would then grab a couple of chocolates, and rush to meet your other friends. And like long lost pals, you would chat nineteen to dozen, as if the conclusion to this discussion is going to solve the world crisis. Who cared at that age, what world crisis was!!!!! All we were bothered about is, when will we get to eat the cake, and after all this celebration, after we went home, we had another great event to attend to, complete our homework.

Once the hosts realized that most of the kids had come, more importantly, the birthday kid’s best friend had come, and by now the child has no patience, we would all be assembled to stand behind the kid, while the candles would be blown and cake be cut.

Oh in the meanwhile, we would all wear those birthday caps and those ghastly masks which would cover our faces. Seriously, whats with the masks, first you ask the kids to wear the masks, then you take their pictures, and then how do we recognize ourselves…. The dress which we wore… I mean really, the dress which we wore, so we have to keep an account of what we wore to which friend’s birthday.

Anyway, back to the cake cutting, after this event, all of us would be asked to take our seats, and a paper plate would appear, with the cake, chips (our local lip-smacking hot chips), samosas or pakodas or anything else, and then to quench our thirst, the orange drink. Oh yes, before all this, we would have dutifully given the gifts to the birthday kid.

At times, we would even have some games and prizes, I might have won a couple, but I was usually not that lucky. I didn’t even know about the concept of return gifts….Darn!!! Wouldn’t it have been fun, if I had gone and asked “Aunty, I dint get my return gift”. Then within days, this news would have reached mom, that I had asked for a return gift, the consequences of which would definitely not be in my favour *shudder*

After a mini second helping of chips, and whatever else, we would then wash our hands, and then leave bidding the hosts good bye. Now on the way home, we would discuss on how awesome the cake was, come to think of it, we had no idea of flavor or colour. It was cake that’s it. Also, mentally calculating what we could demand from our parents for our birthdays. Ofcourse, any of these ideas were never considered for the birthdays, but the kids can dream alright!

Once home, we would be interrogated on what we ate, how much we ate, did we behave properly, did we overload our tummies with chips as if we had never seen any. After the 1^st degree of investigation, we would be sent to change to the normal clothes. And then the clothes would be investigated for any blood stains from the murder, ok ok just kidding, a few stains of ketchup and the interrogation would be as close. You would be told “how you should eat and all that”, and if you were a good kid, and had not dropped even a mm of the chips on your dress, then you be given a compliment “Good Girl”. 

 

Finally the nail in the coffin would be “You have spent all your evening doing time pass, now off you go and finish the homework”. And thus, ended our super exciting event of “Birthday Party”

The bees and their sting

I was in a team meeting today, and there was some disturbance in the call. None of my teammates are in my location, they are all in a (will not be disclosed) foren location.

I gave my update and in between was listening to the call as well. There was a collective laughter, why I had no clue. After a while one of the guys gave his update and before it could go to the next person, he intervened.

Oh and yes folks, there is a small tip I have to give you guys.

“Never squeeze a bees sting”. I was shocked, went into sort of panic mode where my brain was running “What did I miss?” “What did I miss?”

He continued, just take the prick out, if you squeeze the sting, it can only cause you more pain. Yada Yada. I was sure, I hadn’t dozed off in the middle of the meeting. I am very alert and always look out for the word “Arathi, your turn”. So where did this bees topic come up.

Then another person says, “So why don’t you take an hour long session on bees and their sting, in our next team meeting. We should definetly add it in our agenda”

The first guy says, “sure I will prepare a presentation”.

*Collective laughter from everybody*

The next person started talking about his status.

I am still trying to figure out why this topic came into picture… “The bees and their sting”

Dance like there is no tomorrow

“Aawara bhavre jo holle holle gaayen”, this song from Sapnay (Hindi movie), brings back lot of memories. No, it was not because I am a fan of Kajol, I am not really a very big fan of hers.It’s not because the song was pictured in beautiful locations, but yes it was beautiful. It’s not because Hema Sardesai, the singer was the latest sensation at that time. So what is it, one might think! It’s the time spent with my cousins.

This song came when I was in school. It was during summer holidays, all the my younger cousins and my brother at time would consider me their leader, and do everything that I would tell them. So up we would go to the terrace and sing this song, and I was their choreographer. It goes without saying that I would be the lead dancer, and the other 4 were my background dancers, but all of us would have the same steps. Ofcourse I copied some of the steps… esp the line “koyal ki kuhu kuhu, papihe ki pihu pihu”. We would practice as if we had some performance scheduled. Infact, we had perfected the first stanza of the song, getting the beats right and also getting the steps in synch.

The holidays got over and we never danced to that song again, but all I remember of that song is all of us practicing “from the bottom of our hearts” to this song. I have danced during my school time for lot of songs, this is one of the most cherished ones.

Then came the time of “Taal”, and that signature pose of Aishwarya Rai, in her white costume. The song was Ramta Jogi, where she does a split. I have tried doing that a zillion number of times, but every time I was successful only in hitting my knee to the floor, so much that now at times when my knees pain or I have any trouble, I blame it on that song. I loved the other songs too, Taal se Taal mila, was one of my favorites, it was such a nice song to dance to, and in my room, I would be transported to the landscape of Himachal. Along, those times came “Kaho Na Pyar Hai” I would like to watch the songs and copy the dance steps, and most of the time if they were simple enough, I would learn them too.

Then came the time, when I would just dance with dad, bro and mom and try to teach them waltz and salsa, err, I don’t know the dance, the very basic steps with them to the songs “Dekho Dekho Janam hum dil apna tere liye laaye” from Ishq. And another musical piece.

Now, as time goes by, I don’t dance to the new songs, no time to watch them and also to try and practice them. But yes, on certain days I just want to dance away.

 

Dance like there is no tomorrow J

My almost trip to Central Jail

My almost trip to Central Jail. Yes… you read it right.

 

This incident happened in school. One day, in class, when we were getting bored with Social Studies, there came an announcement, “On the occasion of Gandhi Jayanthi, we would be taken to the Central Jail for a visit”. All the students were asked to get a permission letter from the parents, that we could go to Central Jail. The entire class was buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t a garden or a temple or even fun world, we would be going to a place, where they keep the criminals, where they are punished for a lot of unforgivable crimes. This was something totally unusual. Some of the girls, declared, they wouldn’t be coming.

 

“Who goes to Jail to see criminals. I don’t want to see”, said some.

“My parents will not allow me to go”, said some others.                                                                                                                                                                   

Some said to me “your parents let you participate in everything, so you will definitely go”

 

This made me more enthusiastic. Wow!!! I would be visiting a jail. I had never ever seen a real jail. And all I could imagine was from what we are shown in movies. I was very curious. I was eager to go home and ask my parents for permission. I wanted to rush home. As soon as the bell rang that day, I rushed to the cycle stand. That day, I couldn’t wait for my friends. I told them, I had to leave soon, and rushed out of school on my bicycle.

 

At home, as soon as mom opened the door, I told her “Ma, they are taking us to Central Jail for Gandhi Jayanthi. Can you please sign the permission letter so that I can go”. At this point, I had not taken off my shoes, not changed out of my uniform. I had not even taken the bag off my back. I was just a step inside the house.

 

My mom, usually the cool one, who lets me participate in extracurricular activities, stared at me and said “To Central Jail?”

 

“What’s wrong with your school?

Who takes children to Central Jail? Are you criminals? They don’t have any brain. I am not letting you go.”

 

This was my cue to just keep quiet and go to my room and come back to eat my snacks, I was hungry. Instead I blurted out “Please mummy, all my friends are going. I want to go too”. It was like I had set off a ticking bomb.

 

I don’t remember what all I had to listen. But I do remember that it was long lecture. And I remember it was long, since I was standing in the same position for a long time, my back had started hurting. I started to feel hungry. And my imaginations were running wild, that I would feel dizzy and fall down, then mom would cool down and later allow me to go and visit.  None of those happened. All I could feel was how uncomfortable I was, and I was too scared to even move an inch.

 

In the end, I heard mom say, go and change, start your homework. “Oh Thank God!!!” I thought. I rushed to my room to change, but I was still not sure why mom dint let me go. I couldn’t dare to ask her why she dint want me to go. And that evening was like walking on eggshells around her. I dint want to make her angry with anything. I think I dint watch TV that day ( I anyway didn’t have the mood to). I did my homework, even sat down to study. At dinner, too I quickly finished and went to my room to continue my studies. I slept without talking much to anybody.

 

The next morning, mom said “It’s for your good that I am not giving you permission. You will understand someday.”. I dint want to argue, I nodded my head and left for school. I was envious of everybody who got the permission letter. I was very angry at mom “Why did she have to kill my desires” is all I could think of at that point.

 

Days passed, it was Gandhi Jayanthi. After our usual celebrations in school, all the students with permission letter, were to get into the bus, which was going to Central Jail. I sadly, left on my cycle. When I came home, mom asked me if the students left for Central Jail. I replied to her and went to my room.

 

Mom came there and said, you know in earlier days, before independence, these jails were the place where freedom fighters and even if we went there, we would be meeting good people. But now, it was filled with bad people and it was not a place for kids. Well, on that day, I just agreed, also because I knew, there was no point in discussing it anymore.

 

I don’t remember much of what my friends had told me the next day. But till date, I don’t know why mom had not allowed me to visit the Central Jail. So I was almost going to visit Central Jail. I did not. Now I don’t want to, but may be next time, I will ask mom, why she dint want to me go. It was not that the school officials were fools to take the kids and go… Some day I will get an answer to this…

Wow... It feels great to be back on blogger... Its been a couple of years and yes I am going to start writing it again. It feels great that some of them are actually still on blogs I love reading their posts..

I will definetly try to make an effort to keep this blog updated.

This has always been a part of my life.. And it will continue to do so

PS: I cant believe, I had to search for the button which said I could create a new post... Sheesh... I am ashamed.. and I hope not to land up in such a situation again.

Birthday Gift

“Baba, What will be my Birthday gift this time?” Rishi asked, with his mouth full of rice.
“Have I not told you, not to talk when you have food in your mouth. You will choke one day like this” his mom reprimanded him
He gulped the rice and repeated the question.

“It’s a surprise. You will know about it soon. Finish your dinner and wash your hands. We have to go feed the animals in the shed”
“Please baba, atleast give me a clue” he insisted
“Not tonight. Off you go now”

Rishi always loved this part of the evening, when he would feed the animals with his father. He had a feeling, these were not just animals, but his own siblings. He believed, that the animals could communicate with him. As he went near them and touched, and called out their names, their reaction always made his heart jump with joy. Every evening, he would stroke on their head, tickle their neck, and would put the feed in their respective areas. It was definitely a wonderful family. 

That night, he couldn’t sleep until late. He was thinking about his birthday gift. He would be 10 years old. He would no longer be a little boy. He was determined he would get the surprise out of Baba.

His mother woke him early the next day. She said he had to accompany baba, who was going to the city. Rishi was very excited. He guessed, it was probably for his birthday gift. They got into a non-stop, and so was he, talking non-stop to his baba. He could feel it when they were about to enter the city. It was noisy, but he loved the noise. He was always curious to know, why cities were so noisy, compared to his village. They entered a cab, which took them to a quiet place. Rishi was tucked into a comfortable bed. He was tired of the lack of sleep the previous night and also the bus journey, he drifted to sleep in a jiffy.

A couple of days later, on his birthday, his parents were standing near his bed. 

“Baba, is my gift ready?” Rishi asked.
“Almost my dear boy, almost” and his baba looked at the doctor. His mother pressed baba’s hands, she was then signaled to stand in a pre-decided place.

“So, Master Rishi, are you ready for your gift?” The doctor asked
“Ofcourse, can you please take out this blindfold, enough of surprises now” Rishi was getting impatient.

As Rishi opened his eyes slowly, he saw his parents for the first time in his life. He was not sure if it was them, only way to find out was to feel them. 
“Ma, baba is that you?” Rishi tried to extend his hand to reach them. Both held his hand and nodded. His mother had to wipe of the tears coming from her eyes. She couldn’t believe that her son could now see her.

“Ma, you are so beautiful and Baba, you are a strong man. I can see both of you. I can’t believe it. This is the best birthday gift” Rishi again spoke non-stop, till he was interrupted by the doctor to take some rest.

Couple of days later, on the way back to the village, Rishi was the most silent person in the bus. He did not want to miss out a single sight outside. As soon as they reached their house, he ran to the shed. He couldn’t identify which animal was called by which name. As soon as he touched them and called out their names, all the animals reacted in the usual way. Rishi was so glad, he could feel them and now he could see them as well.

Amar Chitra Katha... Amar Rahe... Forever

As kids, most of us would have loved train journeys. An important reason why I loved these journeys was, it was a beginning to my reading habit, I fell in love with reading comics, I fell in love with Tinkle and the likes. Most importantly, I fell in love with Hindu Mythology.

My grandmother, mother, did tell  stories of Ramayana, Mahabharata, but to see those characters in books was a completely different experience. Ofcourse this was much before we saw the characters on screen on DoorDarshan.

The train journey meant, a magazine for my mother and 2 Amar Chitra Katha Books for me. And the best part was, I got to choose the comic books. In one such selection, I choose the fat book (compared to all the AMC books) of Ramayana. The cover page was captivating. The calm face of the Blue coloured Rama, with the beautiful Sita sitting next to him, a deer running in their vicinity, and the devoted Lakhsman nearing the couple, something which has never faded away from my memory. That has been my favorite cover page in the comic book genre.

There were times when I have read these comics and questioned my granny or my mother, on those sub plots in the main stories which they have told me. My mother was more than glad to get me those books so that I would stop troubling her with stories, alas, she could never get rid of the cute little curious brain of mine (ahem ahem.. I was cute back then)

My brother, was not as inclined as me towards Hindy Mythology, but I loved reading those books to him, rather narrate the whole tale, page by page, every picture in the book, and at times, add my own story to it. Proabably making up stories started at that time. And as if my mother dint have enough of me, she now had two of questioning, why Rama did not protest, why Hiranyakashyapa, had to be killed by half man half lion. How Parasurama and Rama both incarnations of Lord Vishnu, challenge each other? How could Ganesha made of Clay come to life? Lot of such questions, she would at times drive us away to study our curriculam, and during vacation times, point us to our granny, who would then tell us more stories.

My fascination towards Amar Chitra Katha’s Mythology stories did not end with my childhood, or even my studying days. When I was in an Indian Store in Atlanta, I happened to see a thin comic book. I recognized the logo, and went near the book with the same enthusiasm as I had during my childhood. Ofcourse, I read a couple of pages in that store, and with a heavy heart kept it down.

Now, everytime I see those books in any of the book store, and we are scouting for gifts to be given to kids, its always my first choice, a set of these books. And some day, when I have kids, and they grow up to start reading, I will get them loads of these comic books. 

Well, I can start collecting them now, who says only kids have to read them :)

Ghanta Singh

Sometime last year,on one of the radio stations, they had a section called “Ghanta Singh”. I used to like it. At times it would be silly, but most of the times funny, on how the section went. Few months went by, and they changed it from Ghanta Singh to Mr.Ghanta, and the series continued. I dint understand why they removed the Singh in the first place. I then assumed, probably it was offending some people and that’s why the change. 

A few months back, in company, I saw one guy, a sardar. He wasn’t too tall, not too short either. Rather he had a cute face, in a way an innocent look. Words actually fail me here, in his description. But as soon as I saw him

I told G “He looks like Ghanta Singh”.
G was surprised, “When and Where have we ever seen Ghanta Singh in the first place”.
“I don’t know. I just feel. It’s him. And I am so glad to see him” was my response.

From that day, till date everytime I see him, I can feel my mind and heart calming down. It’s like being in a serene place. I don’t know what effect he has on me. But however tensed I am or upset I am, the moment I see him, it brings a smile on my face. It’s the affect a stranger has on you, unknowingly. I definitely wouldn’t want to go and speak to him or even let him know about this. It’s nice this way.

It’s been a long time since I have seen my “Ghanta Singh”.

Ofcourse there are some people, who can just spoil our mood, just by their aura in a room. But let’s look at all the good people who make moments better for us.

The School

Sheshadri woke up at 5.00AM, his usual time every day. He completed his morning rituals and was at the breakfast table by 7.00aM. He had the day’s newspaper in his hand. While he was busy pondering over some important news item, his wife snatched the paper and kept a plate in front of him. It was his favorite breakfast.


“What’s special today? You have prepared my favorite after a long time” he winked at her

“Ofcourse it’s a special day. Isn’t It?” She smiled and went in to get the hot cup of filter coffee.

After the breakfast, Sheshadri went to his room to get dressed. He took out the neatly ironed crisp white dhoti. It had a very thin golden zari border. He then took out his favorite light blue shirt, and then wore the black coat, which made him look very handsome. As he proceeded to leave the room, near the door was his cream and gold turban, which he picked on the way out. As he was nearing the main door, he realized he forgot his most loved possession. He went back to his writing desk and picked up his pen. He put it in the pocket of his coat.

As Sheshadri walked, almost every day greeted him with a smile. There was no doubt; he was one of the most respected men in the entire community. In 20 minutes, he reached school. He had been a part of school, from the time he was a kid.

The first time he came to the school, was with his dad. They did not have uniforms then. He wore a mini white dhoti and a grey shirt with a black turban. His grandmother had pinned up a peacock feather to his turban. She always thought of him as Lord Krishna. He had been a top scorer in Mathematics, Science and Sanskrit. He had ventured out of the town to gain knowledge in the 3 subjects. He had come to the town and joined the same school as a teacher. In a few years, he was able to convince everybody that girls deserved to be in such a great school and they deserved to have girls in their school. Years later, his children were students of the school.

He had served the school for 35 years. It was time for him to retire. Neither him nor the school wanted him to leave. But they had to abide by the rules. As he entered his room, there was a note kept on his desk

“Beloved Sir,

You have always been our inspiration. We will be grateful our entire life. We would like to invite you to the auditorium, for a little surprise. Please grace the occasion.

-A humble request from your students and staff”

He remembered how he had gone in search of the best builders in town to get the auditorium built. It surely was one of the best in couple of towns nearby. As he neared, the building seemed too huge and overwhelming to him. The security guard near the door, smiled and bowed in respect, and opened the door. As Sheshadri stepped in, he could hear the loudest applause ever in his life. The number of people in the auditorium was astonishing. Students had come from all over the country. As he neared the stage, the crowd cheered. He took the centre stage, folded his hands in front of everybody, and bowed down. The applause had stopped but there was not a single person present who had not stood up. He gestured them to take their seats. He also took his place on the stage.

The farewell went for hours together, where Sheshadri did not utter a word, but everybody else wanted to convey what his role had been in their lives. He was moved by their speech, and content that he had touched so many lives. The vice-principal of the school came to make a speech. He wished Sheshadri for a peaceful life ahead and mentioned that they would be like lost sheep without his guidance, and that even though he would officially not be a part of the school, his suggestions and guidance would always be required.

Finally, it was time for Sheshadri to give the speech. He had never liked long speeches as a kid. He had followed the same principle as a teacher and till date as a principal. His speech was always, short and crisp. He made sure they left a mark on the audience. But today, he was emotional. He dint know how to talk. For the first time in years, he felt, he would probably fumble in front of his students. His first speech as a student flashed in front of him. He remembered, he was the 1st standard, and he was supposed to talk about a topic for a minute. The topic given to him was school. Sheshadri smiled. He knew what he was about to tell his audience.

As he came near the mike, students rose from their chairs. Sheshadri neared the mike.

“Thank you. Please be seated. I might fumble if I see all of you stand. You don’t want to do that to your old man now. Do you?” Everybody laughed and sat down.

“I remember the first time I was asked to give a speech in my life. I was given a minute to speak. As I picked the sheet of paper, my hands trembled. But the moment I read what was in the sheet of paper, I had a smile on my face and my father says, he saw a twinkle in my eyes. The topic I had to speak for a minute was “school”. I spoke for a few seconds. I finally ended saying “I will never ever leave this school. I love it here”. Little did I know then, that I would stick to my words. I have always loved the school, and the reason behind it is all you students, teachers and the staff. I will always have time for you people. And today as I leave from here, I would like to repeat what I had said decades ago, I will never ever leave this school. I love it here. My soul will always find peace here”

He bowed in front of everybody, waved his hand at them and moved out of the auditorium.

'Ranga-Swamy'

Ranga kept his foot on the bed sheet, while Swamy was trying to pull it, trying to cover his face. A few minutes later, when Swamy knew his efforts were futile, he rolled the sheets over Ranga. There were no beds to make early in the morning, for they had no beds to sleep on. They slept on the floor. There was no room to clean. They did not even have a house, and were satisfied sleeping on the pavement of the railway station. This was their life for years, from the time they were born.


“Ranga-Swamy”, the station master, Pratap called out, and both ran upto him. It was their breakfast time. This was the one meal he could provide to the duo. Pratap had given them shelter years before. Both were at his doorstep. His family was huge; hence he couldn’t afford to accept them to be a part of his family. He secretly allowed them to stay near the railway station. He would buy breakfast for them on the way. The porters took pity on them and allowed them to help in the work. They got their share and lived off it in a corner.

Even though both grew up together, they were different in many ways. Swamy was always the one who spoke to everybody; Ranga was the stronger one, but a silent follower of Swamy. His eyes did most of the talking. “Ranga-Swamy” were the names given by Pratap, to the lovely duo.

As days passed by, Swamy noticed Ranga was slowly losing his strength. He wanted to take Ranga to a doctor, but they hardly made money to satisfy the daily needs, spending for a doctor visit seemed out of bounds. Swamy decided, he would take help from Pratap, just this once. The duo never accepted any monetary help from him. They knew how difficult it was for Pratap to manage his family. They not intend to burden him with their problems. But, this time, Swamy couldn’t resist. It was not for him, but for his companion, who had been with him all these years. There was not a day which passed by, when ‘Ranga-Swamy’ were not together.

The next morning, Pratap handed over the breakfast to the duo. Ranga took the food and walked away, he wasn’t cheerful, like the usual. Swamy later discussed the problem with Pratap. Even though Pratap could not afford to take care of them, he considered them their own. He checked the amount he had in his safe deposit box. They decided to take Ranga for a check-up the next day.

A month later, Swamy woke up. But, this time, there was nobody to pull his sheets, nobody to roll over the bed sheets with him. His companion Ranga had moved over to a different world, leaving Swamy alone in the world, they had shared till then. Swamy quietly folded the sheets and kept it away. He went on with his routine; the smile on the 12 year old boy was missing.

A fortnight earlier, when Pratap and Swamy took Ranga for the doctor visit, they were shocked to learn, Ranga had only a few more days left. Though Pratap understood the situation, it was difficult for Swamy. Ranga was also around 12 years. The doctor then explained to Swamy, a dog’s life span is different from that of a human and Ranga, being a dog, was nearing the end of his life.

The week after the visit was most miserable. But, the duo had the satisfaction of being with each other, their entire life. Ranga had pulled the sheets from Swamy’s face and once they both had rolled over the sheets and on each other, they started panting for breadth. Ranga was on his best friend’s lap, in a few minutes he became motionless. Swamy knew, it was time. A tear drop from Swamy’s eyes trickled down to Ranga’s face.

A decade later, Swamy still is a porter in the railway station. He tries to help any stray animal. He has an old photograph of Ranga and him, which Pratap had gifted him. The void left by Ranga has not been filled by anyone in his life yet. Pratap hopes one day Swamy will find someone, who does just that, takes Ranga’s place in Swamy’s heart. “Ranga-Swamy” till then will remain inseparable.

Click... Click...

Nikon D7000, Canon 550 D, Nikon 5100 – G was on constant research for the past few months. Well, he was researching on DSLRs for a longer time, to choose among the 3 mentioned, it was a few months. I was not totally convinced that we need a SLR. We have a good Canon point and shoot S3 IS, and the person who uses it most is me. Ofcourse we had our discussions and anrguements. I did not find it sensible enough to spend thousands on something, we were hardly going to use.

D7000 was definetly a no from my side as it cost around 70K. I was finally ok with either of the other two cameras as they were nearly half of the first one. Fortunately, D7000 is not in stock from quite some time, hence leaving us with two cameras to choose. Last week we became the proud owners of Canon 550 D. Our anniversary is coming up this month, and what better gift to us, from us, which will be used by us.

As of now, both of us are exploring the camera. And I must say, I am enjoying it. It definelty worth it. Here is my fav pic till now, taken in Lalbagh on 6-May-2012. Reminds me of Cherry blossom in Macon, USA

The Bell

Kumar was returning to his village after a decade. The city had given him all that he had wished for, as a kid. It was a long journey in his life to blend into the city life. But, it would be longer to go back to his original life. It was as if all these years he was living in a dream. A dream, where he lived as someone else. He had no regrets of leaving his village, for he knew, he would return.

The bus was crowded, but Kumar had managed to get a window seat. It was probably the effect of his attire. The neatly pressed white shirt and the blue jeans, which he had changed into at the railway station, made him look no less than a movie star. The Polaroid dark glasses on his chalked out face, and the neatly set hair just added more stars to his appearance. As soon as he got the luggage loaded on the bus, the other passengers made way and let him select any seat on the bus. He was busy soaking in the scenery the route had to offer. He had four hours before he could reach his house, his village, the place where he spent his childhood.

His thoughts were running faster than the bus. Were they running ahead to see his future? Or to go back to the sweet memories of the place, was something nobody except Kumar could tell. He remembered his house and the temple. Both the places, where his favorites in the village. He would always enquire about them. He had unlimited memories from the time spent near the temple. He would go there every day with his friends. The banyan tree, on the banks of the river, just behind the temple, used to be their hangout place. He would run into the temple and try to touch the huge temple bell. He wasn’t tall enough then, to touch it. He would come back with a long face, to cheer him up, his friends would form a tower, for him to climb up and hit the bell. After this they would run away fearing the scolding from the temple priest.  Since Kumar would fall from the top of the tower, almost every day there would be wound or a bruise on his body.

The bell rang, but this time, it wasn’t the temple bell. It was the simple bell in the bus, which brought back Kumar from his memories. His village was just a kilometer away and this was to alert everybody to get ready to make their way to the door. The scenes seemed familiar to him. The long stretches of farmlands with men and women toiling in the harsh sun. He could see huge towers too in the middle of these farms. He understood them to be the assets of the cell phone companies. He wondered, even if there were problems for water and electricity, there was no dearth of cell phones.

The sudden break on the bus put a break to his train of thoughts. As he set his foot on the road, unloaded his luggage from the bus, and the bus continued his journey, he saw a dozen people waiting on the other side of the road. They had flower garlands, basket of flowers, drums, and trumpets. As soon as he crossed the road, he was surrounded by his uncles, cousins, who lifted him on their shoulders. The welcome party paraded on the roads of the village and finally stopped in front of the huge gate. The drums and trumpets did not stop until the huge gate opened.

Kumar stepped in, on one side, he saw the cowshed. There were a dozen of cows. Few years back, when he left, there were just a couple of cows and one of them was pregnant, due to deliver the calf. The sight of the cows and and cow dung in round shapes on the wall brought a smile to his face. He remembered how he would help his mother make those cow dung cakes. In that excitement, he would smear the dung all over his body and would get scolded by his mom for messing himself. His mother would remove his dirty clothes and bather him with the water from the well.

As he stared at the well, he visualized a small boy playing with a bucket of water. The boy’s mother was forcing him to quit playing, bathe quickly and change into the dry clothes. She was splashing water on him. He could feel the same, and realized, somebody was actually sprinkling water on him. He looked at the hand. They were the same tender hands which took care of him in his childhood. The same hands which bid good bye to him, when he was set to leave the village. He touched the hand and kept it on his head. His mother had promised him, whatever happened; she would never leave his side. She had kept her promise. She was his moral support.

He looked at her eyes. He could see tears, similar to how they were when he was leaving. There was one difference, this time he could spot the joy hidden n them. The tears were shining like diamonds. The mother and son hugged each other. As they parted, Kumar’s father stepped forward. He was waiting for this embrace for a long time. He met his relatives, distributed the gifts he had carefully packed for everyone. His mom just couldn’t take her eyes off him and her fingers were busy ruffling his hair. His father looked at him with pride, while Kumar felt content lying on the floor with his head supported on his mother’s lap.

Kumar was eager to visit his childhood hangout place, the temple. In the evening, he dressed up in the traditional attire and went to the temple. As he entered, he saw a tower of kids and one short boy, trying to reach the bell. Just when the boy was about to touch it, the priest came running with a stick to chase the boys. The tower collapsed. The boy touched the ground, luckily fell on his palms. Kumar could understand the feelings of the boy. He went near the boy, lifted him up and helped him strike the bell. The joy on the boy’s face gave Kumar immense happiness, probably much more than, is he had hit the bell himself.

A month later, there was a development in the temple. In one corner of the temple, there were multiple bells hanging at different heights. Everybody now had access to the bells. Ofcourse, this did not stop the boys to form the tower. This was to hit the bell which was six feet above the ground. Kumar felt, his decision to come back home was not wrong afterall.

Waves

The sound is so mesmerizing. You can easily get lost in them. It’s a constant thing. Day or night, it is the same sound. The intensity might vary at times, but if you observe closely, it’s just the same.

What is it that I am writing about here? It’s the Waves. Waves in an ocean. In the vast ocean, there probably aren’t as many waves in the middle. But the shore has only waves. The sea shore is where we belong. There is humongous amount of human inhabitation, so to us, the first thing about ocean is water and of course waves. All we care about is how huge the waves are. Will it take away from us, something we love? But legend has it; the ocean never takes anything away from us forever. Whatever it takes, it returns the same, after a while. Well, in what condition, it is up to us to imagine.

I was just looking t the ocean. It was throwing at me, some small, some huge waves. What was it trying to tell me? Probably I could take a message:
A wave which looks huge, very huge at a distance, might die down, before it comes to the shore. This is like a problem in life. At far, it might look huge, but it might not be a problem at all, by the time it comes near us. But that doesn’t mean we ignore everything which is huge at a distance. Similarly, a wave which is small at far, might just build up and hit you as a huge one, and sweep you off your feet. Aren’t they so similar to our problems? It is up to us to remain alert at all times, yet enjoy the small waves the ocean throws at us. Just like our life.

As strange as it seems, the mighty ocean filled with salt water, and of course mysteries inside, has a great lesson to teach us, creatures on the shore.

The Come Back

In a village near Chitradurga, Sundari seemed like the happiest woman of the day. She had woken up an hour earlier than the usual. Had she slept at all the previous night was questionable. She had completed all her morning rituals much ahead of sunrise. Sundari was the river bank when she witnessed the sun rise. It was the usual time and the same scene, but on that day, it seemed like the most beautiful sunrise she had even seen in her lifetime. After the mesmerizing sight she filled her mud pots with water and headed back home.

As she reached home, her husband had woken up, completed his morning rituals and was offering his prayers to God. She hurried to the kitchen to make him a drink. He always had a glassful of Kashaya after the prayers. It was hot drink comprising of water boiled with pepper corn, cumin and few leaves of holy basil. She would add a clove and a cardamom too, so that it would lend a sweet flavor and acted as a mint too.

It was a special day for the couple. Their son was to return. He was taken away fourteen years back. Sundari remembered the day very well. The entire village had seen her cry. She wailed as if her son was about lose his life. In a way, it was true. He wouldn’t be a free person anymore. He would be bound. “Why at such a young age?” she would question her husband once in a while. He could only hide his tears and pat on her shoulder as she leaned on his body for comfort.

Her son would accompany her to the river bank. He loved flowing water. While she would sit at the banks, he would be busy swimming and splashing water all over. Once done and out of water, he would come running to her, she would wipe him and dress him up with fresh clothes. Both of them would sit on a rock nearby and watch the sun rise just behind the small temple on the huge mountain.

Both would go to the palace after this. Sundari was one of the maids there and her son was one of the playmates of the prince. The two boys were very close to each other. Together, they would have the best times. They would run around the palace troubling the guards and maids. Sundari once caught them red-handed, stealing a snack item from the kitchen. She chased them until they reached the Queen’s harem. The boys ran and hid behind the queen. She was a kind lady and did not punish either of them and sent them away to play, also assuring Sundari that it was alright.

She knew, for the prince, it wasn’t an offense, but her son, couldn’t be behaving this way in the palace. As a punishment, she did not take him to the the palace for a couple of days, but was forced to bring him back on the little prince’s orders.

Days passed by, one day the guards were at Sundari’s doorsteps. They were summoned at the king’s courtroom. She knew, they were in trouble, because of their son. They were in the courtroom; the couple were trembling with fear, although the boy was fearless and wore a beautiful smile and a twinkle in the eye.

What they heard in the courtroom was unbelievable. Sundari was speechless. She did not know how to react. They just bowed in front of the king and came back home. That night Sundari had tears flowing on her cheeks like flood. The next day, when the guards came to take her son away, she was uncontrollable. Finally, her husband had to drag her into the house, so that they wouldn’t come in the way of the king’s orders.

After 14 years, she dint know if her son would recognize her. She wanted to make dishes which he used to love and relish. But now, she wasn’t sure if he liked the same stuff. She din't even know, if her son would like anything back at home. Sensing her anxiety, her husband comforted her. He assured her, their son would love anything she had made. After all, he wouldn’t have had the luxury all those years, away from them.

Late in the morning, the guards came in a carriage and let him out. There was a man in his early twenties. He body seemed to be sculpted. He had a heavy bangle of sorts hanging on one of his wrists. A maroon cloth wrapped his upper body, and a shining white dhoti as a contrast for the bottom. His left ear was pierced and had a small yet thick ring. There was bright red vermillon placed in the centre of his temple. As the wind blew the shoulder length wavy hair, just tried to fly backward. He looked like the most handsome man, the village had seen in years.

Sundari was amazed at this sight. It was her son, in front of her, in flesh and blood. She wanted to run upto him and hug him, cup his face in her hands and feel the moment of truth. She was awestruck by his appearance.

He was looking at his humble abode. The house was decorated with wild flowers. The simplicity made it appear beautiful. But what caught his attention, was the sight of the couple, his parents. They looked the same as the day he left them. There were probably stands of silver on their head, but they were mostly dominated by the black hair. Also, a very few wrinkles, just to prove they had grown wiser.

He could no longer control his urge and ran upto them. He bent down to seek their blessings and finally the moment, which the trio longed for, he hugged his parents. It was lunch time and the couple were busy catching up with their sons life till date. They were grateful to the king for sending their son, along with the prince, to the Gurukul.

Ragini

Ragini, a 10 year old, was the most cheerful girl Mandari Village had seen in years. Everybody in the village loved her. Every morning, she would be seen coming out of a place as good as heaven, with a pot on her head. She would walk till the river, to fill water. They had a huge well at the backyard; this water was used for household purposes. They needed the water from the sacred river only for the rituals. She would wear a long skirt, a matching blouse both with zari border. She would have 2 thick long plaits, and a strand of Jasmine buds adored one of the plaits. She had a dozen of glass bangles to match with her dress. But there was one way, which couldn’t prevent anybody from noticing her. Her silver anklets, with a numerous small bells. The moment stepped, the anklets would catch the attention of everybody around.

With a pot of water on her head, Ragini playfully would walk thru the fields; greet everybody on her way towards the house. The house where she stayed wasn’t less charming. Small hills surrounded the huge house. The entrance of the house was a beautiful arch, with iron rods shaped like arrows pointing down, forming the border for the arch. There was a long corridor, adorned with classy antique artifacts and paintings. The house had a smell of fresh flowers.

It was the rainy season, as soon as Ragini entered the house with the pot of water, it had started drizzling outside. She loved the rains. She had heard stories from the elders at home, about heaven and gods. And when it rained, she would run to the backyard, and lean at the door and watch the scenery change. It looked like heaven, same as the stories she had heard. At front, the arch seemed like a waterfall, with water dripping from the arrows pointing down. Once the rain stopped, the drops of water at the tip of the arrows would shine like crystals. Ragini would try to jump and touch these crystals. She could never succeed and the guards near the house would lift her up so that she could touch them. She always told them “I will grow tall one day, and you will not have to lift me anymore”. They could only smile at the little girl’s innocence. She would then run into the house, and into her father’s arms. He would lift her up and turn her around. She would get a thrill in rotating, just like a fan on the roof. Her mother would see this from the kitchen door, smile at Ragini and her father. She would serve the breakfast and Ragini insisted her dad feed her every morsel she ate.

Years passed by, Ragini was turning into a fine young girl. She would still go to the river everyday, to fetch the pot of water. Their house was still the heaven she imagined it to be. There were just minor changes. She no longer needed anyone’s help to touch the crystal like water droplets, for now she could jump a little and reach them easily. Her father couldn’t lift her up and twirl her around. But she insisted, he hold her hands, and they make rounds under the fan. She would still like to be fed breakfast by her father. But now her mother no longer smiled at this. Instead there was worry on her face, a tear drop in the corner of her eye. Ragini tried to ask her mother, but was shooed away saying she was imagining.

Then came the auspicious month of weddings, many of Ragini’s friends who were younger than her, at the age of 13 were getting married. She would wonder at times, why her parents unlike others never worried about her wedding. It was not that she wanted to go away from her parents. But the unusual behavior of her parents haunted her. But everytime she would look at her mother’s worried face, she understood, probably mother was thinking about Ragini’s wedding, and that is why the worry.

It was a special day, Ragini would turn 15. She was dressed up in the most expensive saree and ornaments. The 2 plaits which showed her innocence, was not present that day. Instead it was one thick plait, and she looked like an elegant lady. The sting of jasmine buds, added to the beauty of her long hair. Everybody in the household was ready, with fine clothing and jewellery. There was just one thing missing, on them. The smile. Ragini was the only cheerful girl in the entire house. She couldn’t understand, why were everybody mourning. She went and asked her father if she was dead. He was holding back his tears all the while, and on hearing this question, he burst out crying aloud. For her this was a horrible sight, she had never ever seen such a sight in her life. Her father was crying.

Everybody boarded the horse carriage, she insisted, she sit with her father. She wanted to know the reason for him crying. As the carriage moved forward, she kept asking her father, why he cried. His eyes were closed, but she could see the tear drop in the corner of the eye, trying to have a leap from his face on his shoulder. She took the end of her saree and wiped off the tear. She wanted to change the mood of her father. She started talking about the trees, the animals, the river, her friends to cheer him up. Her father managed to give a fake smile to her. She was content; she had managed to bring a smile on her father’s worried face. As she turned back, she glanced the carriage her mother was in. She was crying too. All the ladies in that carriage were trying to console her, but were not successful. She could sense they were going in the same route, which they usually take to visit her maternal grandparents. She was concerned, and hoping, her grandparents were safe.

Just before entering the village, the carriages took a turn, and stopped near a huge ground. It seemed like the whole village had gathered. As people from the carriages went in, a couple came up to Ragini’s parents and greeted them. Ragini’s family were shown a place to rest, It was under a huge banyan tree. A confused Ragini, now pleaded her parents to explain the happenings. Finally her father told her about something, she was unaware in her lifetime.

She was 3 years old, when Ragini was married off to a boy. He was not more than 6 years. When he was around 10, a deadly disease struck the village, and most of the kids lost their lives. As fate would have it, Ragini’s husband parted with the mortal world. Since Ragini was still a kid, when this happened, elders decided she should live her childhood as a happy child, and not knowing about this unfortunate event which had ruined her life. Today, as she was crossing the threshold of childhood and entering adolescence, she would be made aware of her life.

Ragini was shocked, even though her physical body had grown out of the innocent childhood, her mind had not.

“Father, What will happen to me now?” was a innocent question she asked him. Before he could answer, a few ladies took her away. Her father could listen to her cries, her mother couldn’t take all this and wanted to save her daughter from the rituals, but was not allowed to go anywhere.

Within a few minutes, the beautiful, cheerful and colourful Ragini changed into a lifeless body. Her soul was taken away. Now all that stood in front of her parents, was a body, who did not know how to react to the situation.

In a few minutes, after the soul parted from her body, she was placed in the sacred fire, for a ritual named ‘Sati’. Her lifeless body turned ashes.