Is spirituality an Ivory Tower discussion with no basis in real everyday life and living? Is spirituality something that teaches others how to live? Or is it something that makes each of us live our lives more truthfully, more sincerely and more attentively than we would otherwise. Is spirituality for others or for ourselves?
I heard this story from one of our friend's mother-in-law. It was very instructive! There were no names. No great people being quoted. I cannot be certain of the source of the story either.
See what you make of it. So... here goes.
Once upon a time, long, long ago there lived a very learned sage. He was well read and well versed. As his knowledge grew, so did his ego. Strange as it seemed, the sage grew increasingly proud of his knowledge and erudition.
One morning, he set out to beg for his meals. Upon reaching a household, he spake, resoundingly," Mai... bhiksham dehi! Oh Mother, give me alms, please!"
The lady was drying out the laundary. She left the clothes in the bucket and prayed," Please give me a minute, O Sage! I shall just be back." The sage waited. And waited. And waited. Then, he began to get irritated. "How can this woman leave me waiting? " He pumped up his own anger. "How dare she!?" His anger began to rise like the mercury in a thermometer on a hot summer day!
By the time the lady came out with the alms, he was livid. "O woman! Do you know who I am!? Let me show you." He looked at the bird sitting on a tree facing the house. The bird fell lifeless to the ground instantly.
The woman was saddened. And somewhat taken aback.
The sage thundered,"Woman, do you realise who I am? How powerful is my spiritual reach! How dare you make me wait! I can kill with one look!"
The lady replied very calmly, " Yes indeed! I can see who you are and what you can do. I went in to get you food. My toddler was crying. I do not know what is your spirituality, sir. But my love did not permit me to leave a toddler crying while you were waiting. I apologise." She quietly walked up to the fallen bird and tenderly picked it up. A tiny sound escaped the bird's frail frame. The sage was surprised.
And ashamed.
The little bird flapped its wings tentatively. The lady outstretched her hands and the tiny thing flew away!
Anger can kill. Spirituality does not.
Spirituality is much deeper and much more tolerant than the sage experienced despite his erudition!
Spirituality is in devotion, in sincerity, in love, in being in the moment- whatever you may be doing. This could be cooking for your family or studying for your theosophy degree. Or meditating for the Lord.
Story of the umbilicus aka Umbi
Who has paid much attention to this eternal friend of the humans? Umbi, we lovingly call him in our family, reflects our internal life stages quite faithfully.
Consider how he looks when a baby is just born. The little one is full of wonder at the world that greets it. It cries and laughs and eats and gets to explore everything around. Umbi is quite like eyes popping out of their socket at this time. Full of energy. Wanting to see and take in all the eyes can...
The child begins to grow and the sense of wonder imperceptibly becomes an acceptance of the world. It just is. Umbi begins to recede. He still peeps from within its socket. It is open but well encased. Now Umbi is alert but not necessarily gaping in fascination.
Then... further growth and further receession. Now the adolescent and preteen is more full of what they are and what they want to be or do rather than be interested in the world.Now Umbi is just about visible. Not really caring about anything and least bit interested in anything except itself. If you still look for him, you will find him there but he is not looking.
Adulthood sets in. Life takes over. Belly fat tries and often defeats belly button. Umbi is now safely burried but his socket still is toned and youthful. The smile begins to straighten and the crease begins to get defined... Life is no longer fun or funny. Care begins to take over.
Soon, the socket is completely taken over. Umbi has now to be carefully searched for. If you pull apart the two lips of the nonsmiling crease, behaving like a door that has a rather good closer, you will be able to find Umbi.
And then... Umbi begins to lose the battle of the Bulge. The crease becomes an inverted 'C', sad, sad Umbi. Care and daily grind make sure Umbi feels similarly.
Sometimes, in ill-health, Umbi peeps out or pops out to protest. Lo! You have an Umbilical Hernia. It seeks attention. It needs attention. Catch me now... or else...
If we are still mindless of the plight we ( and Umbi) are facing... We land up under the surgeon's knife on the surgeon's table!!!
Whoops!
WOW!!
Whoa!!!
Love you, Umbi!
Consider how he looks when a baby is just born. The little one is full of wonder at the world that greets it. It cries and laughs and eats and gets to explore everything around. Umbi is quite like eyes popping out of their socket at this time. Full of energy. Wanting to see and take in all the eyes can...
The child begins to grow and the sense of wonder imperceptibly becomes an acceptance of the world. It just is. Umbi begins to recede. He still peeps from within its socket. It is open but well encased. Now Umbi is alert but not necessarily gaping in fascination.
Then... further growth and further receession. Now the adolescent and preteen is more full of what they are and what they want to be or do rather than be interested in the world.Now Umbi is just about visible. Not really caring about anything and least bit interested in anything except itself. If you still look for him, you will find him there but he is not looking.
Adulthood sets in. Life takes over. Belly fat tries and often defeats belly button. Umbi is now safely burried but his socket still is toned and youthful. The smile begins to straighten and the crease begins to get defined... Life is no longer fun or funny. Care begins to take over.
Soon, the socket is completely taken over. Umbi has now to be carefully searched for. If you pull apart the two lips of the nonsmiling crease, behaving like a door that has a rather good closer, you will be able to find Umbi.
And then... Umbi begins to lose the battle of the Bulge. The crease becomes an inverted 'C', sad, sad Umbi. Care and daily grind make sure Umbi feels similarly.
Sometimes, in ill-health, Umbi peeps out or pops out to protest. Lo! You have an Umbilical Hernia. It seeks attention. It needs attention. Catch me now... or else...
If we are still mindless of the plight we ( and Umbi) are facing... We land up under the surgeon's knife on the surgeon's table!!!
Whoops!
WOW!!
Whoa!!!
Love you, Umbi!
What is religion?
Religion is any given system of belief in and worship of a God. Who is God? He... or She has been variously described as the all-knowing, the omnipresent, the superconsciousness, the Paramaatman etc.
Most religions accept that God created the universe and us. Most religions, however, 'worship' different Gods. They attribute the same powers to their Gods. They describe the same entity and define this entity into various identities.
The concept of religion, historically speaking, would have been to make a cohesive group that followed common rules and provided safety in numbers. Gradually, rituals and celebrations came into the picture as events that gave people a reason to congregate on these occassions.
So far... so good.
Man grew. He matured- if one could call it maturity. He was evolving. He graduated from the perilous living of being a hunter constantly under threat from his food to a gatherer who discovered safety of collecting his food from the trees that could not attack him. With this came more time at hand and more thinking. Then man moved further down the road learning to grow and cultivate, making life even safer and freeing up even more time to contemplate.
Religion began as a means to provide some rationality in an unfavourable world. It not only laid down the rules that the community had to follow, it also prescribed the punishment God would wreck on those who broke the Law. The safety thus established freed up even more time for culture and conmtemplation.
Till now, man was satisfied with his environment; he fed it with his toil and sweat, and was amply fed by the product of his effort. Somewhere down the road, he became dissatisfied with tilling his own soil. He found his neighbour's or his neighbour's neighbour's soil more attractive. Territorial wars began. He who won, also imposed his own religion and culture on the one who lost.
The concept of "My God, Your God" became a reality. The God was still the same- now came the war of ideas and ideals.
In all of his own history, man forgot the basic premise that had prompted him to create religion. Safety. Contemplation. Maturity, self realisation.
Those who choose to fight wars for their Gods- Is your God so weak that He needs you to defend Him? This might have been the revelation to a certain evolved soul in a taxi ride- but it is the harsh truth. If God is so powerful that he requires nothing, He also does not require to be defended.
Today, religion has become the flashpoint of Human existence. It has become the reason people are unsafe.
Why?
Most religions accept that God created the universe and us. Most religions, however, 'worship' different Gods. They attribute the same powers to their Gods. They describe the same entity and define this entity into various identities.
The concept of religion, historically speaking, would have been to make a cohesive group that followed common rules and provided safety in numbers. Gradually, rituals and celebrations came into the picture as events that gave people a reason to congregate on these occassions.
So far... so good.
Man grew. He matured- if one could call it maturity. He was evolving. He graduated from the perilous living of being a hunter constantly under threat from his food to a gatherer who discovered safety of collecting his food from the trees that could not attack him. With this came more time at hand and more thinking. Then man moved further down the road learning to grow and cultivate, making life even safer and freeing up even more time to contemplate.
Religion began as a means to provide some rationality in an unfavourable world. It not only laid down the rules that the community had to follow, it also prescribed the punishment God would wreck on those who broke the Law. The safety thus established freed up even more time for culture and conmtemplation.
Till now, man was satisfied with his environment; he fed it with his toil and sweat, and was amply fed by the product of his effort. Somewhere down the road, he became dissatisfied with tilling his own soil. He found his neighbour's or his neighbour's neighbour's soil more attractive. Territorial wars began. He who won, also imposed his own religion and culture on the one who lost.
The concept of "My God, Your God" became a reality. The God was still the same- now came the war of ideas and ideals.
In all of his own history, man forgot the basic premise that had prompted him to create religion. Safety. Contemplation. Maturity, self realisation.
Those who choose to fight wars for their Gods- Is your God so weak that He needs you to defend Him? This might have been the revelation to a certain evolved soul in a taxi ride- but it is the harsh truth. If God is so powerful that he requires nothing, He also does not require to be defended.
Today, religion has become the flashpoint of Human existence. It has become the reason people are unsafe.
Why?
Love touches us in several ways
Love creates its own path, has its own life and pulsates with its own life blood. Love does not warn before it invades your body, mind and soul. It does not respect any boundaries and barriers that may be erected to keep it out.
Love simply happens!
Love is not in reading treatises and texts on the subject. Love is in the look that conveys a life-time of togetherness. It is in the touch that electrifies even when innocent and accidental. It is what makes people do great things- reach beyond their percieved limits. Love is what makes a person give freely and recieve greedily. Love feels...... ummmmm....
Love is what makes a man and a woman want to grow old together. Love is what a mother feels when her son wears the graduation day headgear. Love is what makes a bride's father cry and smile simultaneously. Love is what makes a small child bring crumpled flowers in a tiny hand lest they fall and with a tight hug say," I love you, Mom!" Love is what makes a daughter hug you at night and whisper in your ear how much she would want to hold you when she sleeps. Love is also in the teddy bear that she finally holds close.
Love is in the eyes of the teacher who sees his student achieve heights; as also in the heart of the student who comes back to the guru each time he climbs another rung in life.
Love touches us in several ways...
Love is also in the loneliness one feels in the absence of the beloved. It is also in the sadness one feels in the loss of a beloved. Love is in staying together AND in fearing separation.
Love is not an easy feeling to feel or to sustain. It requires a lot of work, devotion and dedication. It requires not just living with but also not being able to live without.
Love is what brings a tear to your eye when you see your little one take the first gold medal. It is what makes your eyes sparkle when you recieve your beloved backe from a trip. It is what makes the world a breathing, pulsating, beautiful place to be in.
Love makes life worthwhile.
He drew a circle to keep me outEdwin Markham
heretic rebel, a thing to flout
but love and I had the wit to win-
We drew a circle that took him in!
Love simply happens!
Love is not in reading treatises and texts on the subject. Love is in the look that conveys a life-time of togetherness. It is in the touch that electrifies even when innocent and accidental. It is what makes people do great things- reach beyond their percieved limits. Love is what makes a person give freely and recieve greedily. Love feels...... ummmmm....
Love is what makes a man and a woman want to grow old together. Love is what a mother feels when her son wears the graduation day headgear. Love is what makes a bride's father cry and smile simultaneously. Love is what makes a small child bring crumpled flowers in a tiny hand lest they fall and with a tight hug say," I love you, Mom!" Love is what makes a daughter hug you at night and whisper in your ear how much she would want to hold you when she sleeps. Love is also in the teddy bear that she finally holds close.
Love is in the eyes of the teacher who sees his student achieve heights; as also in the heart of the student who comes back to the guru each time he climbs another rung in life.
Love touches us in several ways...
Love is also in the loneliness one feels in the absence of the beloved. It is also in the sadness one feels in the loss of a beloved. Love is in staying together AND in fearing separation.
Love is not an easy feeling to feel or to sustain. It requires a lot of work, devotion and dedication. It requires not just living with but also not being able to live without.
Love is what brings a tear to your eye when you see your little one take the first gold medal. It is what makes your eyes sparkle when you recieve your beloved backe from a trip. It is what makes the world a breathing, pulsating, beautiful place to be in.
Love makes life worthwhile.
Have you ever ridden through the rainbows?
Have you ever ridden through the rainbows? I have.
We were young and very much in love. I was wearing a traditional churidar suit- pastel green shirt and a baby pink churidar. He was wearing a checked shirt in maroon and purple with a pair of blue trousers. The bike that carried us on the road was a fiery red.
We were returning from the Delhi University when the drizzle began. The tiny drops fell on us and stung as if a thousand scorpions were awash in the rain. There was a strange mix of heady sting in the touch of the falling drops. The sun had yet to be completely drowned by the clouds. The ring road was washed a dark shade of all absorbing black by the rain water.The smell of the suddenly drenched and wet soil was intoxicating.
Several people had stopped under the fly-over to be safe and dry.
We, however, wanted the rain to wash all over us. Enjoying the cool breeze and the drizzle steadily becoming heavier into a downpour was giving us a definite high. We were both smiling into the sky... speaking... listening... soaking up the clean atmosphere.
Then, we simultaneously saw the rainbow. The seven colours were stretched across the sky reaching like a bridge across the road from here to eternity.It was asurreal scene. The light was just bright enough for the raionbow to form and yet dull enough to give a shaded grey look to the road and the people on it.The people, then simply disappeared. They were not a part of our consciousness. It was as if we were in a movie and the camera had lost all depth of focus while zooming in on the two of us on the red bike.
The banking road seemed to invite us to ride right right through the rainbow and into eternity. Was it just an optical illusion? Just some mirage that would disappear as soon as we approached it or was it a magical moment that would make us experience the divine?
When two people are in love- EVERYTHING takes on magical powers. We slowed down going through the rainbow- a perfect arch of beautiful colours. It did not disappear. The thrill gave us fresh shivers. A strange electricity ran up our spines and engulfed us both as well as the bike in magic.
It was a picture perfect moment but could not be caught on film.
Life throws up experiences that force us to slow down and think of the NOW. These moments are fleeting in nature and will simply disappear lest we hold them in our hands and consciously experience eternity through them.
Yes... I have ridden through a rainbow.
Yes... the rainbows are an expression of divinity in the mundane.
And... Yes... I AM a diehard romantic who still loves to look for rainbows- simply to ride through them!
We were young and very much in love. I was wearing a traditional churidar suit- pastel green shirt and a baby pink churidar. He was wearing a checked shirt in maroon and purple with a pair of blue trousers. The bike that carried us on the road was a fiery red.
We were returning from the Delhi University when the drizzle began. The tiny drops fell on us and stung as if a thousand scorpions were awash in the rain. There was a strange mix of heady sting in the touch of the falling drops. The sun had yet to be completely drowned by the clouds. The ring road was washed a dark shade of all absorbing black by the rain water.The smell of the suddenly drenched and wet soil was intoxicating.
Several people had stopped under the fly-over to be safe and dry.
We, however, wanted the rain to wash all over us. Enjoying the cool breeze and the drizzle steadily becoming heavier into a downpour was giving us a definite high. We were both smiling into the sky... speaking... listening... soaking up the clean atmosphere.
Then, we simultaneously saw the rainbow. The seven colours were stretched across the sky reaching like a bridge across the road from here to eternity.It was asurreal scene. The light was just bright enough for the raionbow to form and yet dull enough to give a shaded grey look to the road and the people on it.The people, then simply disappeared. They were not a part of our consciousness. It was as if we were in a movie and the camera had lost all depth of focus while zooming in on the two of us on the red bike.
The banking road seemed to invite us to ride right right through the rainbow and into eternity. Was it just an optical illusion? Just some mirage that would disappear as soon as we approached it or was it a magical moment that would make us experience the divine?
When two people are in love- EVERYTHING takes on magical powers. We slowed down going through the rainbow- a perfect arch of beautiful colours. It did not disappear. The thrill gave us fresh shivers. A strange electricity ran up our spines and engulfed us both as well as the bike in magic.
It was a picture perfect moment but could not be caught on film.
Life throws up experiences that force us to slow down and think of the NOW. These moments are fleeting in nature and will simply disappear lest we hold them in our hands and consciously experience eternity through them.
Yes... I have ridden through a rainbow.
Yes... the rainbows are an expression of divinity in the mundane.
And... Yes... I AM a diehard romantic who still loves to look for rainbows- simply to ride through them!
I also remember the day when...
It was a hot and stuffy day in September. I had just started Medical school.It was four in the evening. With another friend in tow, I was rushing to catch the bus back home. We had assiduously avoided the group of 'Seniors' sitting on the Dean's Carpet- the oval lawn that marked the facade of MAMC.We were still 'facchas- freshers' and extremely suitable ragging material. We were keen to get out safely.
Just as we were stepping out of the college gate, we were called by the seniors we had been trying to avoid. Two 'boys', we later discovered, who were from the Final year. One lad was dark and a little stout. The other was somewhat fairer and very thin. Quite like Little Tommy Thin and Little Tommy Stout of the Nursery rhyme.
We, the 'freshers' did not know any names... So for the sake of description, we could label them X and Y.
A gruelling session began right there on the lawns. X ( Tommy Stout), roughly asks," Fresher, What is you name?" I am supposed to answer EACH question with a 'Sir' as the punctuation mark. "N, Sir".
X asks again," What are your interests?" " Reading, writing, singinig... " I start the usual litany and finish with a rather dry 'Sir'.
X is visibly displeased. Y is gently smiling, sitting on the grass with his legs spread out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, there is a strange sense of abandon and yet being reined in...legs reaching out... and yet pulled back in being crossed... I steal a glance. There is something very attractive about Y! I am a fresher! A senior who is ragging me- attractive? I must be nuts!
X barks," Fresher!" "Sir", I reply. "You do not seem to like the conversation we are having."
I do not know to this day what had come over me at that moment. I replied with complete confidence," As a matter of fact, I am not."
For a few seconds, there was utter silence. The air was thick with tension. X let the other girl go and asked me with over-emphasised politeness," And what, madam, is the manner in which you would like this conversation to go?" Again in a flash of rebellion or was it simply stating the first thing that came to my head, I replied, " I do not like the way in which you are talking. You are being rude and rough." Now I had stepped on a porcupine! " And what may be the right manner in which to address your Excellency?" the sarcasm was obvious.
I answered with simplicity that defied the complexity of the moment- "Like Y. He is smiling. He is relaxed. He is not being unpleasant".
Thereafter, when we became from four to two, I do not quite remember. I do remember being carted to the college cafe for a snack and coffee. I do remember being escorted to the bus stop. I do remember the chance and the not so chance meetings that kept happeneing thereafter. I also remember the discussions on Pride and Prejudice among other things. I remember being wished on my birthday in a very unusual manner. For someone who had simply ragged me, Y was becoming quite a part of my life.
I liked it. And yet I was afraid. I loved being with him and yet did not. What was the confusion? HE helped me choose the right books for the curriculum and the right instruments for the dissection hall. He was always there when I needed him and even when I did not know I needed him.
I also remember the first public phone call that he helped me make! I did not know when the coin needed to be dropped in and how it went in... in fact where did the coin go?
Gradually we became friends and shared pain and pleasure. We supported each other through our exam stress or our heartbreaks. We simply appeared out of thin air for each other whenever we needed to be with someone.
We talked and we discussed things as diverse as the meaning of life as well as the wonder of medical science. We would not realise where the time went... it just went by too fast.
Then we fought. Bitter and hard. We did not talk with each other for weeks together. And then we did. It was like riding a rollercoaster.
Finally, he got engaged.
I was stunned.
You never miss a real good thing untill it is gone...
All I wanted was a chance to say to him that he mattered. In life, however, there are no rewinds or restarts. No undo buttons. For the first time in my life I acknowledged to myself, THIS IS LOVE. MY FIRST LOVE. And I had lost it! I was doomed to lifelong heartache. Or would I get over it?
Then... studying in the library... he came to meet me...
I could not stop myself. I knew this was wrong. But if today I did not say it, I would never be able to say it to anyone with any degree of truth in my heart or my soul. " Could you not wait?" The pain was plain to see. I saw it his eyes. He turned and drove away into the horizon. I did not hope to see him ever again.
And... then... something else happened... he came back...
A lot happened thereafter... but today Y and I are man and wife. He is my fisrt and only love. I still am crazy about him. He still holds the same magic for me. We may not sit through the night like we once could and simply talk... but we are together and madly in love after more than twenty years of being together!
True love beats all odds.
True love is.
Just as we were stepping out of the college gate, we were called by the seniors we had been trying to avoid. Two 'boys', we later discovered, who were from the Final year. One lad was dark and a little stout. The other was somewhat fairer and very thin. Quite like Little Tommy Thin and Little Tommy Stout of the Nursery rhyme.
We, the 'freshers' did not know any names... So for the sake of description, we could label them X and Y.
A gruelling session began right there on the lawns. X ( Tommy Stout), roughly asks," Fresher, What is you name?" I am supposed to answer EACH question with a 'Sir' as the punctuation mark. "N, Sir".
X asks again," What are your interests?" " Reading, writing, singinig... " I start the usual litany and finish with a rather dry 'Sir'.
X is visibly displeased. Y is gently smiling, sitting on the grass with his legs spread out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, there is a strange sense of abandon and yet being reined in...legs reaching out... and yet pulled back in being crossed... I steal a glance. There is something very attractive about Y! I am a fresher! A senior who is ragging me- attractive? I must be nuts!
X barks," Fresher!" "Sir", I reply. "You do not seem to like the conversation we are having."
I do not know to this day what had come over me at that moment. I replied with complete confidence," As a matter of fact, I am not."
For a few seconds, there was utter silence. The air was thick with tension. X let the other girl go and asked me with over-emphasised politeness," And what, madam, is the manner in which you would like this conversation to go?" Again in a flash of rebellion or was it simply stating the first thing that came to my head, I replied, " I do not like the way in which you are talking. You are being rude and rough." Now I had stepped on a porcupine! " And what may be the right manner in which to address your Excellency?" the sarcasm was obvious.
I answered with simplicity that defied the complexity of the moment- "Like Y. He is smiling. He is relaxed. He is not being unpleasant".
Thereafter, when we became from four to two, I do not quite remember. I do remember being carted to the college cafe for a snack and coffee. I do remember being escorted to the bus stop. I do remember the chance and the not so chance meetings that kept happeneing thereafter. I also remember the discussions on Pride and Prejudice among other things. I remember being wished on my birthday in a very unusual manner. For someone who had simply ragged me, Y was becoming quite a part of my life.
I liked it. And yet I was afraid. I loved being with him and yet did not. What was the confusion? HE helped me choose the right books for the curriculum and the right instruments for the dissection hall. He was always there when I needed him and even when I did not know I needed him.
I also remember the first public phone call that he helped me make! I did not know when the coin needed to be dropped in and how it went in... in fact where did the coin go?
Gradually we became friends and shared pain and pleasure. We supported each other through our exam stress or our heartbreaks. We simply appeared out of thin air for each other whenever we needed to be with someone.
We talked and we discussed things as diverse as the meaning of life as well as the wonder of medical science. We would not realise where the time went... it just went by too fast.
Then we fought. Bitter and hard. We did not talk with each other for weeks together. And then we did. It was like riding a rollercoaster.
Finally, he got engaged.
I was stunned.
You never miss a real good thing untill it is gone...
All I wanted was a chance to say to him that he mattered. In life, however, there are no rewinds or restarts. No undo buttons. For the first time in my life I acknowledged to myself, THIS IS LOVE. MY FIRST LOVE. And I had lost it! I was doomed to lifelong heartache. Or would I get over it?
Then... studying in the library... he came to meet me...
I could not stop myself. I knew this was wrong. But if today I did not say it, I would never be able to say it to anyone with any degree of truth in my heart or my soul. " Could you not wait?" The pain was plain to see. I saw it his eyes. He turned and drove away into the horizon. I did not hope to see him ever again.
And... then... something else happened... he came back...
A lot happened thereafter... but today Y and I are man and wife. He is my fisrt and only love. I still am crazy about him. He still holds the same magic for me. We may not sit through the night like we once could and simply talk... but we are together and madly in love after more than twenty years of being together!
True love beats all odds.
True love is.
I still remember the day.
I still remember the day I first stood on stage a mere three foot something, a child of 5 in the first grade. The day was bright and the morning assembly was an 'as-usual' affair. I was well prepared.
My lines were a quotation that could make sense to a group of students from first through to twelfth grade. ... "then blow it east or blow it west... the wind that blows, that wind is best..."
I walked tentatively to the front of the stage. The mike was too high for me. I tried to reach for it on tip toes but could not. Mr Chhaya, our school principal saw me and smiled. He was later to remark that he had never in his entire career seen a child so young walk up to the mike. He took two giant steps and was by my side lowering the mike. It was a typical old-time mike of the sixties and the seventies- a rounded cylinder with horizontal grooves and fitted on a stand that could be adjusted.
I spoke my lines. No forgotten words. No stumbling.
Suddenly the silent school assembly was thrown into a tumultous applause. Everywhere I looked, I saw smiles and glow. The feeling was heady. Just a few moments ago I had been 'reassured' it was not difficult to speak. The Senior prefects conducting the school assembly were doubtful that the chit of a girl standing in front of them could have done what she had.
The rest, as they say, is history...
I spoke in every declaimation- Intra or Inter school. I debated in each category- For or against. I participated in the poetry recitations and the speech makings.And I loved each moment of it.
In those days- butterflies were only those pretty flitting creatures that loved flowers. They had nothing to do with a strange funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It was my father who taught me the most. He taught me that books ARE a (wo)man's best friend. He taught me that I CAN. Even if no one had done it before if I could think it, I could do it. He taught me never to let anyone tell me what I could not do. He led by example. To this day, I wonder what he found in our 'kiddie' weekly or monthly books. He would 'steal' the books as they were delivered to our doorstep by the newspaper vendor and playfully declare," Finders... Keepers...! I get to read it first because I got it first!" He would take these to work in his brief-case and strangely would allow us to raid his brief-case on his return from work in order to find these invitingly lying on top of all his papers! Was it really a co-incidence?!
My father made it possible for me to set standards for myself that very few had dreamed of in those days. My parents were among those rare few who got to see test-papers ACTUALLY marked 15 out of ten... five extra awarded for neatness and clarity of concepts.
I still remember that first day that set the tone of the days to come. I still remember how my mother waited and asked me first thing as I got off the school bus- How was the assembly. I remember waiting for Dad to come home to jump UP to his height and tell him ,"I did it!" ( Those were the days without cell phones!)
I remember the hug, the crushingly intense bear hug my dad gave me after having picked me up to his height- pleased and proud, happy and confident.
I rememeber a lot more...
Thank you, Dad!
I love you!
My lines were a quotation that could make sense to a group of students from first through to twelfth grade. ... "then blow it east or blow it west... the wind that blows, that wind is best..."
I walked tentatively to the front of the stage. The mike was too high for me. I tried to reach for it on tip toes but could not. Mr Chhaya, our school principal saw me and smiled. He was later to remark that he had never in his entire career seen a child so young walk up to the mike. He took two giant steps and was by my side lowering the mike. It was a typical old-time mike of the sixties and the seventies- a rounded cylinder with horizontal grooves and fitted on a stand that could be adjusted.
I spoke my lines. No forgotten words. No stumbling.
Suddenly the silent school assembly was thrown into a tumultous applause. Everywhere I looked, I saw smiles and glow. The feeling was heady. Just a few moments ago I had been 'reassured' it was not difficult to speak. The Senior prefects conducting the school assembly were doubtful that the chit of a girl standing in front of them could have done what she had.
The rest, as they say, is history...
I spoke in every declaimation- Intra or Inter school. I debated in each category- For or against. I participated in the poetry recitations and the speech makings.And I loved each moment of it.
In those days- butterflies were only those pretty flitting creatures that loved flowers. They had nothing to do with a strange funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It was my father who taught me the most. He taught me that books ARE a (wo)man's best friend. He taught me that I CAN. Even if no one had done it before if I could think it, I could do it. He taught me never to let anyone tell me what I could not do. He led by example. To this day, I wonder what he found in our 'kiddie' weekly or monthly books. He would 'steal' the books as they were delivered to our doorstep by the newspaper vendor and playfully declare," Finders... Keepers...! I get to read it first because I got it first!" He would take these to work in his brief-case and strangely would allow us to raid his brief-case on his return from work in order to find these invitingly lying on top of all his papers! Was it really a co-incidence?!
My father made it possible for me to set standards for myself that very few had dreamed of in those days. My parents were among those rare few who got to see test-papers ACTUALLY marked 15 out of ten... five extra awarded for neatness and clarity of concepts.
I still remember that first day that set the tone of the days to come. I still remember how my mother waited and asked me first thing as I got off the school bus- How was the assembly. I remember waiting for Dad to come home to jump UP to his height and tell him ,"I did it!" ( Those were the days without cell phones!)
I remember the hug, the crushingly intense bear hug my dad gave me after having picked me up to his height- pleased and proud, happy and confident.
I rememeber a lot more...
Thank you, Dad!
I love you!
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