The Old Lady And I

Summer was around and everywhere !

Bereft of songs, the   birds had made themselves scarce, while  dry and droopy trees  stood  silent in their misery. The quarrelsome street dogs  lying beneath the shades of parked vehicles seemed  unmoved by the  flies  that circled them. It was mid-afternoon and  the roads were almost empty. Those  brave enough to venture out moved in slow motion as though the scorching  summer had cast a spell on them.

Year after year the oppressive heat of an extended summer   subjugated me .I've lived in Chennai  all my life yet I couldn’t  quite get used to it.However,  I've  learned to suitably cover  my desiccated  skin , became more respectful  of the season and often spoke of it in hushed tones.  I daren’t curse , like everyone else, for fear of  a backlash .

Even now,  as I  bravely walked along a familiar road,  I felt the heat tearing at my skin  and  sweaty rivulets   run down  in protest . Bravado soon gave way to weariness  as I desperately felt the need for a drink  .  A  familiar sign   caught my eye and  I  found myself   in the  cool interiors of an  Aavin outlet. With a sigh of immense relief  I sat at a table  and  ordered the much-touted  flavored  milk.  It arrived soon enough and I began  sipping on  the cool drink  meditatively.  Within minutes my  eyes cleared and  I felt my  blood cells   cruising  again.The blazing sun was no longer menacing  and the world  became a much better place . It was at that moment  I saw her  walk in.

I believed she was in  her  late sixties. Her  saree  was draped  in a manner reminiscent of the countryside and there was  a certain   charm to  her  weather-beaten face. She   went  straight to the counter  to speak  to the men there and then came   to sit   at the table next to mine .It was evident that she knew the men, but  they appeared  unrelenting. Only money  will fetch  her  what she wanted,  they sneered loudly. She wasn’t going to get anything free !

I had, meanwhile, progressed on to a mango duet and was savoring the ice cream with much ado. After 15  minutes of waiting her tired eyes lost their twinkle . I caught her eye and asked if I could be of help. In an instant she was up and by  my table. She  was the cleaning woman  at Aavin’s  and at the adjoining Ayyappa temple, she informed me, which is why she was sure that they’d  give in to her request. The men, however, remained hard- faced and immune to her pleas.  I reached into my bag, fished out   a ten rupee note and watched as she placed the order .  The men at the counter  now seemed amused as they enquired about the   money. Without a blink she answered that  it was Lord Ayyappa who gave it to her !

She came back to the table with what she wanted –it was a  small glass of  warm  milk, for rupees five,  which seemed barely enough ; but it managed to restore  her  and she began  to  present  pieces of her life before me.After a while, when I picked up my bag and  showed signs of leaving she said,‘ You must come to the temple once. Just standing by the steps and praying  would bring you blessings.' 


 I was impressed with  the simplicity  of her  faith but what   really touched me  was the smile that she wore on her face despite not having enough. I didn’t have the heart to  tell her that this time her Lord had come in the form of a woman who didn’t want to stand by  those steps and pray !   I simply nodded, smiled at her and left.

Looking back I felt that the time spent with the old lady  held a meaning that no words could aptly describe. I felt like a pawn on the divine chess board waiting for its next move. The sun had relented, it was evening and the road began to buzz with life again. Looking up at the pale blue sky I  caught  a group of birds flying westward; like them, I too was bound for home !       

When In Roam

A holiday poster with the caption ‘Stay Hungry for Travel’ caught my eye recently. I felt drawn  to the  words on the poster rather than the tropical blue in the background and longed to get set and go again.

My traveling experiences, though not wide or varied, have been immensely awakening. Whenever I travel, I always  leave my heart at home where it belongs but ensure that I carry my senses to savor and soak in the experience. 

Traveling has not only been both educating and relaxing but has also helped me to disconnect from the mundane.  It’s one thing to go on a ‘no holds barred’ voyage  to exotic locales or cooler climes but a totally different thing to drift though the capillaries of an unfamiliar land and  imbibe its sights, sounds, smells and tastes, to revel in its beauty and  to wonder at its weirdness.

Going on those do-it-yourself trips has tapped into my resourcefulness and taught me to brave unprecedented situations. They forced me to appreciate things that I always took for granted and were, sometimes, lessons- in- wraps!

 Despite the reality of stranger-danger, interacting with people from different cultures and watching them go about life in ways that are similar, yet different, have  inspired me a great deal. New places and people have  snapped open my curiosity and  helped to broaden my mental boundaries. They have transformed, forever, the way I look at the world around.

It takes years to arrive at who we really are and traveling has been my walking stick on that road to self-discovery. You may agree with the English writer George Elliot when he said “Adventure is not outside a man; it’s within!”

I would say it’s a bit of both!

SINGULARLY SINGLE

What does it mean to be single in a world where everything comes in pairs?

A good part of my early adult years was spent dodging the incurable ‘match makers’ who believed that everyone above the age 18 must be tied to someone or something, even if it is only to the nearest peepul tree. They tried to market the ‘supreme settlement’ theory by waxing eloquent on the marvels of marriage, which ranged from  somebody being there to make  black coffee when I have the flu to someone walking with me well into the sunset!

Some friends constantly advise me to “go and get a life!” I have deduced that this advice stems from a collective mindset which undermines solitary existence and considers it to be as exciting as that of a leech gatherer's.

When I remained unimpressed, few well meaning  members of my family  tried to shock me into submission by painting blood-dripping pictures on my mental canvas-  their all-time  favorite being  that of maggots feasting on my mortal remains. Incidentally, I've a congenital habit of sleeping through horror films, which worked well in my favor, and all concerted efforts to chill my marrow failed.

One hassled member of the much- married tribe accused me  point-blank -- “Plain selfish, that’s what you are! Just ‘ME ME’  all the way!” Translated, it meant that any person  devoid of    husband, in laws and a pair of  pint-sized horrors (children) is drop- dead selfish. It might comfort them to know that life spent  in the company of  ageing, hearing aid -free parents is no stroll-in-the-park either!

Of course being single, as with all other forms of existence, can be happy and crappy in turns! Sometimes, I spend long hours by myself wondering what makes the rest of the world tick. Other times may be spent ruminating on unsavory remarks or tactfully asking people if they minded minding their own business. I’ve also had to suffer the ignominy of people, who I barely knew, asking me about the ‘issues’ I had!! ‘Oh, you wouldn’t want to know’ I'd growl  inwardly.

But, as with everything else, there’s a sunny side to the solitary state! Thankfully I am spared the potential trauma of living with a tiresome individual whose habits can shame a sloth ,  lose  peace  over  the spouse’s  dalliances while I’m away nursing  his mom’s broken hip or  worry about  his participation, incognito, in the LGBT  rainbow  parade!

To the gentle and thoughtful souls who have told me that people who are single do not count, all I want to do is to congratulate them on their domestic trappings. Meanwhile, I prefer to just drift along with the barest of fuss –thank you!

All for fun on the world wide web

You may travel wide, you may travel far,

Make lots of money and spend it all,

But there's no fun until you've spun 

Your tale of adventure on the world wide web !

You may bake a cake or roast a steak,

For your sweet heart or your l'il one,

But where’s the  fun, until you've spun,

A tale of your venture on the world wide web ?

Taken pictures with divas and glam dolls in tow ?

Your latest Bullet or your new Jersey cow ?

Where do you stand if the world hasn't glimpsed 

Your magnificent life on the world wide web ? 

Who cares if your smile was true or faked 

While you staggered thro' parties for ol' times sake?

There's plenty of fun, only after you’ve spun, 

Tales o dazzle and wonder on the world wide web !

The Magic of December

The magical month of December is always  marked by seasonal festivities and the much-awaited holidays!

It all began two thousand years ago on a mysterious night, when a ‘king’ was born in a cattle shed!  It was a night like no other, and the world began to celebrate the difference!

 All through my early years, the first spark of the season was lit at school. The dreaded term exams would be done away with and every child would wait with bated breath for December.

 Soon carol books would be whisked out and full- throated ‘Joy to the World’ would rent the air following which the season would be officially declared as ‘arrived’!   

At home, the baking and making would begin in full gusto. Every neighbor would be greeted by an aroma that hinted at hidden pleasures and every guest would be  offered a slice of ‘baked heaven’ that was forbidden to inmates of the house until the D-day !

Some day before X’mas, a carol party would sneak in during the wee hours and, with much ado and fanfare, announce the Savior’s birth to the bleary-eyed! 

Apparently, all that cheery singing required a great deal of energy and the choir was watered and fed  wherever they went. Robust singing always cheered me, yet I have often wondered why people were woken in the dead of night only to be told about something that they already knew!

Winter wonderland and the jolly Santa were confined to the cards that came my way yet, there was magic and a warm fairy tale glow to all things around at that time of the year!

Altruism knows no season or reason but, during December the act of giving gathers unprecedented momentum !  When impelled by greed, generosity snowballs into shameless indulgence. Through ‘buy- or- die’ sloganeering, the month of December has become a platform for strategized marketing and out-sized consumerism.

 Over the years the season has lost its sheen, and December its magic! There now exists a need to revive the old spark and to celebrate wisely.

Here's hoping that the magic of December keeps the child in each of us alive and that it continues to spread cheer all through the year !  

If I Knew I Wouldn't Fail

If i knew I wouldn't fail--
I'd fly so high,
To where the eagles dare,
And be but a blur,
To the world below!

If I knew i wouldn't fail--
I'd float, tranquil,
On a white swan's back,
Along a meandering stream
On her seaward trail !

If I knew i wouldn't fail--
On a rainy day, i'd sqeeze my way,
Through a sparrow's nest
Perched high,Swaying,
Yet braving the storm!

If I knew I wouldn't fail --
I'd brave the cold air
To trek  glaciers
And comb  forests,
For those  time-defying souls !

If I knew I wouldn't fail --
Like a nomad I'd search,
The whole wide world
For that Entity --
Elusive, exclusive,that can
Make me whole !

Pastes, Pumpkins and Paranoiac Excesses

Caution: This blog is not for the silent, suffering spiritual slaves who are likely to find its contents offensive!! This article reflects my personal views and must not be construed as “anti-religious”!

Festivals are fun –but it’s also a time when our carefully –crafted world takes a turn for the bizarre!
On a certain pooja day, a colleague rushed into my room with a bowl of sandal wood paste and proceeded to smear it on the bookshelves, furniture and other inanimate objects with formidable fervor! Having nearly completed her task she came to my desk, stood menacingly, and was about to resume her smearing when I decided to protest.
She gave me a startled look, which soon gave way to a condescending snigger; translated it meant that sometime in the future she would be watching from Heaven while I gnashed my teeth in Hell in retaliation for the sacrilege ....!!

Another community act that evokes rash behavior is the “pumpkin act.” It is customary to see innocuous-looking pumpkins being used to ward off the “evil eye” after which they are ceremoniously smashed on the roads outside shops or homes. This has often led to fatal and near-fatal accidents, forcing the cops to ban the “act”! What a sorry state of affairs for a nutritious veggie originally created to serve a far nobler cause..!
At this point I need to draw your attention on to a religious sect whose members are constantly on the look -out for lost sheep. Once such a sheep is identified they trail him until he threatens them with dire consequences or, alternatively, decides to enter their fold (for want of anything better to do!!).
I happen to live in the same neighborhood where members of this sect meet every week and take immeasurable glee in bringing the roof down with their religious excesses. This went on for a while until tired neighbors with frayed nerves notified the police. Now the decibels have lowered, but the show goes on!
Yes, we are a secular land where everyone has freedom to express. But I personally believe that religious ‘expressions’ must never spill on to roads, offices or other public places and clog our lives, but must be confined to the precincts of our homes or other allotted premises !
Any public display of religious emotions, acts, symbols, verbiage or bravado must be strongly condemned. Zealots must be encouraged to practice the irrefutable doctrine of “mind-your-business-mend-your-soul-first” !
Given our current scenario there is no such thing as religious harmony—at best there can be religious tolerance which is akin to skating on thin ice!!
I am not saying that there should be no public places of worship---all that I’m suggesting is “please make them sound-proof”!

A Belated Travelogue

I have never been very good at chronicling my life, despite being the proud owner of a diary!

Even as everyone I knew wrote about their new year revelries and resolves  and produced photographic evidences of the same  , I lazed around and sulked in a mental mire.

The need to describe my year end journey sprouted lately and I decided to lend life to it !

Travelling to Kerala was always an enriching experience – the bountiful beauty of the Western Ghats, its landscapes and waterscapes, its calmer lifestyles and cleaner surroundings can  be a  soul-soothing balm to any weary soul.

Meeting relatives has always been a down- to- earth experience and I wished I could do it more often.



On the first day a trek was organized to  the ill-explored regions of a  dam nearby . It was infested with snakes -- we were warned -- but we had dealt with  creepier versions and so we went, my cousins and I …..!

The next day , a day trip  resulted in an  unusual tryst with an assembly of ' pious ' pachyderms--in an enclosure adjacent to a renowned temple.

In the afternoon, the sea faring and the sturdier amongst us set out on a  cruise   and soon we found ourselves drifting amidst mangroves towards the sea,  in an old fashioned boat called 'Thangamani' . It was then that catharsis set in  and I realized that breath- taking beauty could sting…! Shades of blue and green carpeted the horizon  while  we stood out in our reds and blacks. I began to  wonder if we really should be there..!

I was traversing a land where socialism shakes hand with commercialism. There were ayurvedic resorts on small islands, where the rich and the famous could ease their worries and trim their waists by undergoing the pleasurable rigors of ayurveda. I was told it cost 17,000 rupees for a single day. …I swore I’ll take to walking, and that too in right earnest!


Good things come with a dead line and so it was with my vacation. I had to get back home- to Chennai.

Kerala was to me the land  of my ancestors – and I always watched the place  through an alien’s eye. Strangely, this time, when I came back home , the sense of belonging was not palpable, although I wouldn’t say it was altogether missing.


Was it a kind of detachment  or is the COSMOS trying to tell me something…??

I’m yet to find out……

My Tryst with Facebook: Friendships and Face-offs

I had been leading a strange life lately!

It was as if I had stepped out of the confines of a coffin each morning, rushed around to meet –and- greet fellow ghouls and had hurried back into the box at night, only to repeat the routine next day!!

Phew! that was sanguinous, i’m aware....but that’s how life had been for a while. To break the monotony of drudgery, disease and convalescence and to overcome the ‘grief’ of a cancelled trip abroad, I sought refuge on FB and since then life has never been quite the same.

Facebook has been beckoning for sometime, but it was not until four months ago that I succumbed to its reckoning force.

It didn’t take long before the curtains were drawn to reveal a world of intrigue, jealousy, lust, romance, wealth and power. I watched spell- bound as conquests, connections, donations, dogs and husbands were proudly flashed before the public eye.

I was amused to find bandwagons running amuck on FB and people following a fond one around with the faithfulness and ferocity of a love-sick terrier. You may chose to hop on to the raunchiest or the jolliest bandwagon, as you may find suitable. As a die-hard Gemini I hop from one to another, to savor the best of both!

It was then that I chanced upon folks who tried to use my space to promote their ‘causes’. First the friend- request arrived, which I initially ignored. As I was lauding myself on having done the right thing, another arrived and I succumbed to its irresistible persuasiveness.

The nightmare began when I found my wall being plastered with slogans drawing attention to the plight of delinquent ducks or, persuading me to participate in a candle –lit vigil for aberrant cats that have stopped mewing and are crooning instead! I managed to hit the de-friend button in time to save my sanity!!

And just when I thought that things can’t get any worse I found my wall being used for a smear campaign. Although the attack was meant for another, the viciousness hit ME on the face before I lunged for the de-friend button!

The power of FB is overwhelming. I’ve made a few friends and, if a bunch of us met after two decades it was thanks to FB!But it has also made me feel that Big Bro is watching. It gave me the creeps when friend- requests arrived from people whom I had, earlier, wanted to be packed off to Planet Pluto, without fresh water supply!

I discovered a few ‘friends’ who sat on my wall and watched the proceedings as if it were a racket game.Their presence baffled me.....why were they there? I didn’t know and after a while I didn’t want to know. I simply knocked them off my wall!

All said- and- done, FB is awesome! It allows one to share (or brag) in style!

It is a splendid platform where thinkers, achievers, potential lovers, megalomaniacs, incurable flirts, compulsive liars, sports enthusiasts, dog lovers and connoisseurs of women and w(h)ine freely mingle with social wannabes, page 3 folks, experts and has-beens from all walks of life..!

Now if that is not fun....what is?

Why Friends are Roses

Hindsight, they say, gives a rare insight and it is on this strength that I set the ball rolling!

As a single child, growing up in the conventional settings of the late sixties and seventies, it didn’t take long before friends replaced pacifiers in my life.

Single children were a rarity those days and most of my friends were blessed with a natural set of play mates – Siblings! This meant that I was more dependant on them than they would ever be on me and, ever since, I have been a witness to the many face(t)s of friendship!

Let me begin with my ‘little’ friends (from those far- off days) who dominated me because I was desperate for their company to play silly games such as ‘London Bridge’ or ‘Hide-and-Seek’! Despite my size let me say that I know how the Lilliputs must have felt when they had to deal with Gulliver!

Years rolled on, friends came and went....

In the meantime there were many who used my services as an Agony Aunt, when I had to spend hours listening to unabated whining. Needless to say these ‘friends’ would simply vanish on the first sign of so much as a whimper from me!

Soon there came a time when my utility as a ‘soft toy’ was put to good use-- when I was required to hold hands, lend a shoulder or make soothing noises, according to the need of the hour, and frantically hope that it works!

How can I forget my ‘special’ friends who loved to update me on issues such as girlfriend number 34 from half way across the globe? I must say their calls were more frequent, and also lasted longer, whenever the ‘flavor of the season’ lost its fragrance.

Then there were those pals who ensured that I have been supplied with all the details of the magnificent, awe- inspiring lives that they have been lucky to lead! Special mention must be made of those who personally hand- picked me to reveal the juicy details of their mind-blowing escapades.

A big ‘thank you’ to all of them! What would have been my life without such ‘mouth -watering’ disclosures?!

There were friends who treated me well until the day I ‘invaded’ their comfort zone. There were others who feigned friendship only to use it as an excuse to enter the ‘no trespassing’ areas -- it did not take them long to fiddle with the ‘privacy settings,’ make off –the- cuff remarks and divulge my personal details to anyone who cared to hear!

With some friends I’ve entered a ‘you-scratch-my-back-and –I’ll –scratch-yours’ pact. It can be tiring at times, but it does work!

Some well -connected friends participate half -heartedly in this glorious game of friendship, possibly because they are anxious that a whole- hearted involvement might prompt me to seek favors!!!..
I say folks, don’t we pass this way but once?

I’m eternally grateful to the ‘I’ll be there for you’ category –the best type of FRIENDS -- -just that I wish I knew where ‘there’ is!!

It is not that I am an updated version of Damon or Pythias. Even as I write this I don’t stand in judgment of anyone, for each one of my friends has helped to fill- in emotional black holes and are the roses in my garden of friendship!

I say roses because friends sustain the beauty of life. Nevertheless roses are special in that they come with thorns. Unless one is careful, one is left to bleed!

Did You Say Jesus Was Gay?

There is nothing that prevents a musician from musing, but when he belches out banalities at regular intervals it is time for him to stop at what he does best and leave the thinking to rational minds.

When Elton John recently expressed his conviction that Jesus Christ was a super intelligent, compassionate gay individual he surely didn’t mean to demean —being an ‘open’ gay himself. But I would say that his choice of method to remain in the limelight is in bad taste.

It amuses me to think that Sir John has cleverly conjoined traits such as intelligence and compassion with homosexuality, thereby making a veiled attempt at praising himself and the members of his jolly gay bandwagon!

It was not too long ago that Dan Brown , in an effort to debunk the myth surrounding Christ, projected Him as a married person in the ‘Da Vinci Code’ and even went on to describe His present- day descendants!!

I confess to wondering at the plight of Sir John had he dared to pass ‘out-of-the-box’ comments on a certain bearded, long-robed members of the human species .

He would only have to stop speaking, for a ‘fatwa’ to be issued against him, and the world would have witnessed the music maestro hopping between continents, crawling between caves (with his gigolo in tow) in a desperate attempt to stay alive!
Or he would have had to seek refuge in an obscure nation, like MF Hussein, whose artistic expressions (founded on Hindu Goddesses) made the saffron brigade see red!

It is overwhelming to realize that Jesus Christ continues to command attention even after 20 centuries, but He certainly does not need distorted versions of His short existence to promote His causes! Remember, He is already famous and continues to overshadow all those who came before and after Him!

Why is it that these blasphemers, posing as thinkers, fail to realize that there is a middle ground between homosexuality and leading a married life?

We’ve all heard of people who have breathed and lived for a cause. As far as I understand, JC was a revolutionary, and a teacher, who came to challenge and change a populace that was steeped in bigotry and injustice! Given the time and place that He was around, it certainly was no mean task!

He knew His time was short (33 yrs) and was, therefore, focused on completing His mission, the result of which is evident even today!

To commit a slur against the icon of the (still) most popular religion of the world (which does not endorse homosexuality), and to continue to remain alive, speaks volumes about the concepts of compassion and forgiveness that the Great Master has passed on to His followers.

BTW, Sir Elton, you really suck (pun intended)!!

Mother…..or Father’s Other?

Recently, a photograph of American Brad Fister kissing his 23-day old baby daughter, born in Hyderabad to a surrogate mother, caught my attention. It was a picture meant to warm the cockles of every heart worth its beat!

But there was a blot on this perfect picture. The baby’s mom was missing! Delving into details revealed the dynamics of a modern day ( but –very- gay) couple, in a stable relationship.

Brad Fister and his gay partner Michael wanted a baby. Fister would donate the sperm but they also needed a female’s egg . They decided to go for egg donation and surrogacy – and the baby was finally born.

The story of gamete donation and surrogacy is all too familiar to many. But in Fister’s case, the concept of motherhood is shrunk into a single cell immersed in a canister of liquid nitrogen!

Being gay is fine….if u have to be! I am not for, or against, same- sex couples. However, it is bewildering to know that there now exist sizeable numbers of what was once considered a “fringe group”. They seem to be peeping out of every cupboard and crevice, with their burgeoning demands and requirements.

Yes, they were marginalized (for reasons little understood) but I don’t understand the hiss, fuss and rant associated with them. For example, there are writers and gay writers, singers and gay singers and every other day someone is going public with his ‘true sexual identity’!!

Recently I read an article by a ‘gay writer and poet’ who froths at the mouth at anything he sees as a slight on gays. This writer was waxing galore on the 12 dalliances that he was concurrently engaged in and about the possible 12 more in the waiting! Even as I salivate at the columnist’s enviable existence, I hate the pomposity with which he throws his audacious coquetry at the general public.

Give us a break, dudes, get on with your lives and don’t try to bulldoze us with your ‘sex-life and sensibilities’.

Sorry for meandering away……

Coming back to Brad and Michael …their daughter has a dad, alright, but what about a mother? This child, who would probably be breast- fed till her surrogate’s contract expires, has been deliberately denied a mother for all her life.

The same parental denial would apply to kids of lesbian couples who would have to live their life without a father .

Now you can drown me with your arguments….yes I know there is a lot of imperfection in many heterosexual families but do we really need to add to the existing mayhem within the diaspora of family prototypes?

Everyone talks of rights –the gay lobby has been one of the most perseverant the world over ! But what about the rights of the unborn and the just- born?

Don’t they deserve a mother ( I mean a regular mother) or is it just a life with the “father’s other???”

Apartheid On Valentine’s Day

Today is Valentine’s Day!

It is that time of the year when the world witnesses apartheid of a different sort-- when people get divided into ‘the loved’ and ‘the not-so-loved’!
We all love to be loved! But the rush for the V-Day trappings, often fueled by compulsion, sets me wondering as to what the fuss is all about and why there is this scramble for cards, roses and gifts to please a potential partner, on a particular day!

It would sound boring and clichéd if I say that those who truly love do not wait for the V-day to go for the ‘kill’. Again, it is not my business to talk about those who need a Valentine’s Day to remind them of that special someone.

This day, my heart goes out to those unloved souls, the world over and, to those who found love only to forgo it.

It is all very well to celebrate love but do people have to be gluttonous about it? Is it right to indulge in such brazen display in the name of love?

Do the frenzied couples even fleetingly think that there could be millions out there whose lives could be transformed by a single gesture of love?

Don’t get me wrong! I don’t hero worship Muthalik, neither do I belong to the Ram Sena. But a look at the statistics show that the holiday season records the maximum numbers of depression cases and suicides the world over. It is winter, no doubt, when SAD sufferers go through their worst episodes, but it is also a time for family bonding, for loving and for being loved--- a time when loners get truly hit.

One can understand teenage revelry on V-day! But as adults it would be more responsible, and even nice, if people could be subtler and did their bit to make others feel less lonely. Of course this is just a thought-- –no apologies tendered!

Love, they say, keeps the world going…..Never stop loving, instead, on this Valentine’s Day make a pact to love differently . Let each of us include one more person in our circle of love so that there is enough love in the air to keep the world going round !

War of the Pseudo Drs

There was a report in the papers about an ongoing war between the physio ‘doctors’, the medical ‘doctors’ and the government.
Apparently the physiotherapists have been riding high on the prefix ‘Dr’ and it mattered not in the least to them if the rest of the world accepted it or not.

This, of course has peeved the medical ‘doctors’-- the supreme sovereign in the realm of health.

The government backs the latter with the contention that the physios’ claim to the prefix would confuse the public as to who the real doctors are!!

But I say, hold your horses people,…… and take a minute to observe the pathos. Would it be a trifle too much if I point out that the ‘real’ doctors have been taken out of the equation?

In those ancient days the word ‘doctor’ was a reference to a very learned person who was held in high esteem for his knowledge. So we deduce that a man who burned a lot of midnight oil striving to understand, evaluate and analyse, in order to gain knowledge, was the original assignee for the word ‘doctor’.

The present day claimants ---such as the medical, ayurvedic, homeo, aroma, physio, energy, pranic ( have I left out any?)--- have plenty to prove before using the word !!

Some spend 4 and a half to 5 years, after school, to learn a trade and stake a claim on the prefix ‘dr’!! Some unabashedly claim after a mere 2-6 months diploma !

Common sense demands that the term doctor be best left to those ‘silent sufferers’ –the original doctors –the ones with a doctorate. What say you, folks? Simple logic, isn’t it?

The rest may best be referred by their trade name – physicians, medical practitioners or medical consultants or more specifically cardiologists, urologists, neonatologists ……and the rest as dentists, pathologists, physiotherapists, aroma therapists, ayur physicians, pranic or energy healers and so on and on…

One can never forget the way in which the simple white lab coat, that once signified perseverance and hardwork, has been reduced to a symbol of false prestige and inflated pride to be flaunted by all and sundry . Today the fact that the driver, the cook and the bakery man wears a white coat has helped to demystify it… a bit!

Please leave the prefix ‘Dr’ to the ones to whom it originally belongs . (Here I do not include the honorary types, heavily favored by favoritism, or, the ones who have acquired a degree through questionable means).

Otherwise we will have the charlatans and the quacks misusing the word and disrobing its glory.

Now we do not want that ….do we?

LOST WISH

Yet another birthday scurried past,
I was in no hurry -- time was!
Your muteness i had learned to accept,
I could've stayed younger-- had you called!

MAYA

The best thing about writing blogs merely for pleasure, is that it does not promote forced writing.

Having abstained from my pet past time for a while, I felt the itch to blog again which is when I thought about something a friend once mentioned -- that what we experience in this life, or, what we perceive to be our experiences in this life, including the emotions that wade through us, is ‘ Maya’ !

I was informed that life is transient ( I have heard this before) and that life events are mere illusions (how I wish!!).

Maya, I believe, is for those few among us who have ‘evolved’ beyond the ordinary after a lifetime pursuit of unworldliness! To an ordinary mortal like me, this our pulsating existence is very real.

Let me explain with a parallel. Man evolved from apes but it would be foolish to say that the various facets of the apes’ life is illusionary merely because the comparatively less- evolved creatures failed to reach their full potential.

Our existence today is linked to the time when life first stirred on earth. We remain baffled by the ‘African Eve’; we respectfully acknowledge and study the lives of our caveman ancestors whose saga is not illusionary, but continues to illuminate our lives, millions of years later, albeit in a remote way.They were the super heroes( the original kind -without sound effects), who honed their instincts to leave an indelible impression on the human brain, who instilled in mankind the everlasting truth that brain power is superior to muscle power and that survival is the ultimate goal.

Every life, with its wealth of experience, is a page that will go down in the collective history of the universe. Each tombstone speaks a story with a moral for those who would care to listen; it does not represent an illusion- but is a symbol of grounded reality !

Belief in Maya prompted the mystics to probe life. The concept of Maya provides solace to escapists - to a logical mind the dynamics of this life are achingly real!

An Ode to the Odd One

Like most people of my generation I too was saddened by the untimely demise of Michael Jackson .I belonged to an era when the defiance in MJ’s songs was endearing.

But when he metamorphosed regressively from a cute Black guy into a ghoul many of his admirers, including me, backed off ( If readers detect ridicule it is entirely evoked by the subject himself).

Of course MJ had issues possibly like no one else had. With a control freak for a father who was constantly jibing at his nose it was easy to understand why he channelized his angst onto this ridiculed anatomical component reducing it to a pint-sized triangle.

It was pretty much evident that Jackson was uncomfortable in his body- he perceived an ugliness that did not exist ( this condition is clinically referred to as Body Dismorphic Disorder).

There was no looking back once the surgeons began to steadily chip away……..now a chin implant, now new cheek bones, lip fillers another time, not to mention depigmentation of a kind never seen before. However, when the final picture emerged it was as if the local anatomy students were at work.

Michael Jackson’s lip stick shades would give his long- term friend Liz Taylor a run for her money. His saucer- shaped eyes and permanently tattooed eyeliner earned him the dubious distinction -–as Sashi Tharoor puts it- -of being ‘distinctly odd’. Now we know that Tharoor is a diplomat/politician, and odd is a gentle word.

I tried to obliterate MJ from my memory believing that ‘this too shall pass’…but the mystery continued to deepen.

MJ’s demise has actually taken the world on a tour of the dark alleys of the glamour world – perhaps not for the first time. It revealed yet again that the cries of misery cannot be silenced by the chimes of success.

Somebody referred to MJ as ‘low life’…now who is to judge how low is ‘low’ ? I am not equating him to the Dalai Lama but what I do know is that low lives do not impact the world the way MJ did--by breaking geographical and cultural barriers.

One question that remains is ‘what went wrong?’-was oddity in his genes or was it the ‘enviornment’ (courtesy his dad and his own debilitating diseases)?

He ‘fathered’ children without ever growing up himself.

Despite the ‘odds’ I cannot help but acknowledge the man-child and thank him silently for the magical moments he gave the world.

RIP MJ!

Curry Bashing, Down Under

Sometimes late in the evening when I return home it is the smell of my mother’s cooking that greets me at the stairway. The customary aroma of spices, expertly blended, has never ever failed to revive my dulled senses. What is life without the curry?

But to my profound horror, I realized that there are many across the globe who disagree—some mildly, some condescendingly, even as others were belligerent and mocking!

As Indian TV channels whipped up mass sympathy for the Indians who continue to be attacked in Oz, my thoughts went to my friend and family, in Melbourne and Sydney respectively.

After several hours of bleary-eyed TV gazing I decided to scan the net to get to the pit of the matter. What emerged left me disgusted and dazed.

It looks like the Curry has stirred up a storm world -wide leaving several ‘almost dead’ in its wake. It has been described by many in a ‘less-than- becoming’ manner, and has been accused of generating a race of ‘Smelly Indians’ who reek of spices that emanate from their pores!
As if that is not enough these smelly Indians, having favorably partaken of the Curry, exhibit disgusting habits that a decent blogger cannot list. One notably infuriating trait is the persistent hollering in their native Hindi, which is like ‘Mary calling the cattle home’! It goes without saying that their hygiene leaves much to be desired. All this thanks to the heat, the dust the grime and of course---the Curry!

Now if only they would resort to face -saving tactics such as washing themselves in a basin of water or aesthetically tissue-wipe their rears ((which is clearly a sign of the civilized)) they would be less smelly. If that is not possible, the least that these stinking Indians could do is to take a leaf out of the civilized world and drown their BO in dollops of deo !

If these things cannot be done they may take to eating rare steak soaked in blood (O yes… the best way sir!) or , like the far- east fellows, consume crawling reptiles for breakfast, lunch and dinner and snack on locusts for tea! They could follow the African model and eat buffalo or elephant meat --dehydrated and dried in the sanctity of the living room.

Instead what do they do? They concoct spices and stir a curry, the stench of which has the potential to bring OB Laden crawling out of his hiding hole! Vermins!

What do you think, my countrymen? Were we not a civilization long, long before the criminals set up home in Australia? Not many know that people in the southern tip of India were actually reading the Bible when the ancestors of these civilized curry bashers and dot busters were, possibly, swinging between trees!

Although it is no excuse for our de-glamorized image the world over, let us never forget that the uncivilized West de-civilized us, ruined us as a race and brought indignity and shame to our people. And the scars still remain! Regaining lost glory may be Herculean, but we need to try!

PS-By the way, the Aussies find our numbers overwhelming! Wonder why their number is dwindling? Perhaps the Curry could help!?