Change the way you think

 We have our own unique spin on different things because we are individuals.

 Just consider an accident scene we come across. Ten people could all witness the same accident and each of them would have a unique perception of what had taken place. One or two or more of us would spin the story one way focusing one the people inside the vehicle. Someone else would spin another focusing on the damage to the cars. Another witness would focus on the bad state of the road which may have been the first cause of the accident.

 Now come the police in their screeching vehicles intent on settling who was at fault. The insurance agent would have his own spin questions too. It’s possible the last guy would make up the story so that his company wouldn’t have to pay more than what is necessary.

 Perceptions are different and unique. They can be tricky too. Sometimes we over-spin things making mountains out of molehills. I once made a mountain out of the muck of a molehill and wallowed in self-pity but had the good sense to argue myself out of it and see reason. Perceptions can make us discouraged even when there’s no need for discouragement.

 On the other hand, good perceptions can lift our spirits up even though we see things as hopeless. In these pandemic times a medical problem might seem to be the end of the road to someone but a chance to trust God, for another.

 Perhaps many of us have a ‘woe is me attitude problem. Shouldn’t we think in a hopeful way yet anticipating only the best. Today we can ask God to give us joy to meet the right people who have a great disposition. Right attitudes produce right thoughts

 A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor can any human being be cleansed without a right attitude

 Let’s march onward in our lives with right perceptions

A night spent stranded on NH disabuses A woman about a ‘Dog-eat-dog’ society

 I never gauged human behaviour without taking into account that a good percentage of people are uncaring. I first learnt of it when my pen ran out of ink when I was appearing for my Class VII exam, and asked a friend for a spare one. She pretended not to hear me and I lost 20 minutes till the teacher came to my rescue.

Each day I read about people taken for a ride just because they were ingenious, and I can write volumes on our dog-eat-dog world, the dog-in-the-manger attitude or the folks passing by like ships in the night.

But I have undergone a sea change. The world at large has not changed and the dog still eats the dog, but my experience gave me hope that all is not lost. My husband, our three kids and I had gone on a one-week holiday to Bengaluru.

The children were packed into the old faithful Ambassador. They sang and looked forward to shopping and having a view of the life different from what it was in Kochi, a sleepy backwater town then.

We shopped to our hearts content, especially the children who found “cool” clothes which they were eager to show their friends back home. We dined like kings on exotic foods in restaurants with interiors tastefully designed and beautiful menu statements, something that Kochi did not have then.

Then it was time to drive home. The boot of the car was filled with baskets of big tomatoes, fruits and vegetables we rarely saw back home. A so with a full tank of petrol we left.

Our Ambassador suddenly sank into a muddy hole on the Hosur road. Inspection revealed that one of the tyres had decided to give up the ghost. As luck would have it, there was a good stepney, which two or three local mechanics fixed, and we were off.

Three hours on National highway 47 at a place called Perundurai, the stepney decided not to cooperate. The nearest city was Coimbatore, almost 50 kms away. More nerve wracking was the fact that between my husband and myself, we had money just enough to buy a bunch of bananas.

So, with a prayer on is lips and umpteen instructions like “sit in the car, and don’t talk to strangers” he hitchhiked on a lorry, hoping to be back before the night fell.

Then the children had seen a small rivulet nearby and clamoured to be let out. My motherly instincts told me it was well nigh impossible to rein them in as my words were blown away on the “whys and wherefores” of arguments

It wasn’t difficult to mind them as they played in the clear water, but my heart was thumping as the sun began to dip in the west. We returned to the car. Then came striding along an ebony, tall well-built man clad in pristine white, accompanied by similarly built companions. They peered at us and the children shushed. And then he spoke, his voice oozing politeness

Mixing Malayalam and Tamil I told him out story. After listening attentively, he said he was the village headman and assured us that we would be safe. All we had to do was to honk twice or thrice if we needed help, the man told me, his assuring smile worth a thousand full moons. One of his men would keep watch till my husband returned.

Another half an hour later, two teenaged boys came with a brass tiffin carrier and banana leaves and served us a hot meal. When we were full, they left us with smiles. Among the distant trees I saw the red light of a beedi It was undoubtedly the villager keeping watch over us. My husband arrived with a new tyre before midnight.

Call it the hand of providence that brought us a new tyre. Searching for his friend in Coimbatore would have daunted even a searcher of the elixir of youth, but by a happy happenstance, the very friend he was searching crossed his path.

My husband walked the grassy path to the village to thank the headman, and soon we were off on our journey.

 

 

My Childhood days in peaceful Sri Lanka

Sri Lanka known as the pearl of the Indian Ocean. It has a uniquely serene ambience hardly found anywhere else.

For centuries before the start of the civil war, people of all religious persuasions lived harmoniously in the Island nation. In fact, the extent of camaraderie shared by the inhabitants of Lanka was an envy of the world. Needless to say, it was a wonderful place to grow up.

I spent my childhood days in Sri Lanka. There were the days before the ethnic cleansing and its ramification touched our lives. The town where I grew up had three churches, two temples, two mosques, and numerous Buddhist places of meditation noted by the whitewashed viharas

We lived cheek by jowl with the people of all faiths. We attended all religious celebrations. We shared our teenage hiccups, weeping or smiling together. Our culinary tastes were authored by the delicacies we shared. Non-vegetarian feast for Ramadan, Kiribath (rice pudding) and savouries for Vesak, and my mom’s cake for Christmas.

Today I feel heartbroken for the hundreds who were killed on Easter day in Negombo and other places.

Negombo was a peaceful coastal town. Fisher folk selling the days catch in the kiosks on the main road was sight one wouldn’t miss. So are that of vendors by the beaches selling home-grown fruits, vegetables as well as homes-spun curios and shells in woven cane baskets. I remember how as a child I ran to catch the frothy waves on the pristine beach. I recall the tolling of the Angelus bell, the conch call and the muezzins call summoning the faithful to prayer. It was never a place of religious fanaticism

People led simple lives, thanking the sea for the bounty. They would smile and happily welcome visitors from all corners of the earth to their midst. Another icon targeted was the Cinnamon Grand Hotel. Its large foyer catered to bridal celebrations; it was a hotel that knew no religious restrictions. One wonders what motivates hate-filled minds to commit crimes of such magnitude against innocent people, what satisfaction do they get?

The perpetrators of this massacre have not won. For those innocents who lost their lives in the attacks that day are martyrs.

 

What to do if you are a committee member

 

Besides traffic jams, nothing has held back our country as much as committees

Our women’s club, loosely held together by housewives with time on their hands decided to do our bit for the city. And so, committees were formed, after much bragging and ego clashes. Only later we realised that a committee is a group of men and women who individually can do nothing can be done. First on the agenda was a meeting time, place and a plan. Files, pens and paper were procured

 Then, problems arose when group division and allotment began. For example, putting together neighbours which didn’t speak to each other was unacceptable. A doctor’s wife didn’t want to sit with similar diamond studded dames and so on

 A biblical story tells that Moses had no committee to help him steer the Israelites out of Egypt. If he did have a committee they would have still been in Egypt. If Columbus had been an advisory board, he probably would have never been able to sail the Atlantic to discover a new land.

When political leaders can’t figure out a solution to a problem, they had it over to the committees, who in turn hand it over to sub-committees and ad-hoc committees

A committee meet is perhaps the only activity for which no preparation is made except by the chairperson. Committee meetings are definitely fun with tea and snacks thrown in. What more do members want?

The following are some gems of thought retrieved from the recesses of my mind. I would offer them to anyone on a committee

Never arrive on time. If you do so, you will be stamped as a beginner and be roped in to arrange the chairs and files. Don’t open you’re your mind or mouth until the meeting is held over or else some might term you as being too pushy. Be as vague as possible, thus avoiding irritating others. If and when you are in doubt, loudly suggest that a sub-committee or ad-hoc committee be appointed. This will make you popular, getting friends for an adjournment is what everyone was waiting for. By the way has anyone seen a street or monument after a committee?

Star Bright Star Light

Astronomers manning giant telescopes somewhere in the world, have discovered new galaxies and new stars trillions of light years away.

Our lack of technology.to scan the stars with our plebeian eyesight is sometimes so tragic especially when we try to see Orion and his dog or our zodiacal icons

Just once in a lifetime, I saw the Milky Way as I sat sleepless on a flight from Shanghai to Bangalore. In the depth of the midnight sky, I saw millions of glowing stars, row upon row in perfect synchronisation like kids in a march past. The plane flashed by but my mind still relives that sight. Many do not know of a supernova that appeared many years ago on a small dot of our world we call home.

 It was the birth of STARS which brought together a conglomeration in various sizes and shapes which astrophysics alone could define. Stars created out of Botany, Chemistry, English, Economics, Home-science, Physics, Sociology, Zoology and Languages that defined the STARS. The nom-de- plume or acronym STARS is St Teresa’s Association of Retired Staff. It has now become a beacon to those struggling with online lecture classes and tons of paperwork to comply with.

We the STARS don’t have to deal with such deadlines, no deadlines to meet, no HOD's to drag us thro their firebrand mandates, no UGC strictures. We the stars are our own mistresses and our younger STARS gaily trot the light fantastic toe and the older STARS talk at length with wisdom and shared experiences. We don’t have to struggle thro the grind of one upmanship who’s got the doctorate first, who’s getting awards by the bushel, who’s organising inane seminars. None of these matter except when we think of our own offspring. We have our own agendas.

Our multiple choices range from helping the birthing of our daughters or daughters in law, baby-sitting may be in London or Australia or Bengaluru, creative talents lying dormant, tailoring marvels, or perfecting cordon bleu culinary delights.

All these once took a back seat but now there’s more cranial activity which once lay dormant like Rip Van Winkle during our professional career. We have now awakened to a brave new world. Time by the bushel is now our mistress. Our get togethers may not start on time but that hardly raises an eyebrow, for the limping, the hobbling, or the illness recovered Stars have come with fortitude, to the forge of companionship, to have a pow wow with old friends.

There is no malevolence no malignancy no conflict of interests. It’s just a sparkling of Stars, like the Milky Way somewhere beyond the blue. The fleeting years will call us one by one leaving spaces for brighter Stars.

 The baton will pass on. That is our legacy

Retirement blues

The oncesweet smelling jasmines garlands texture lie brownpaper scraps The nostalgic air of a longwhile ago is sultry and humid.The beautifully crafted eulogies which wafted me up to cloud nine only faintly reverbate once in a while butto no purpose.
'I'm retired leisure' to quote Lamb.Retired at the age of 55,with all my faculties intact, senses in fine fettle, and a insatiable zest for life.Once retirement meant something else to me.I watched my grandfather and fatherbegin to walk cautiously,their frame bent with age,holding on to walking sticksto balance themselves.I saw them with thick lensed specs scanning obituary notices to see who was gone and who was lucky to be here.Most often they may have been too bushed whacked to move out of theircanvas easy chairs ,as the seasons turned relentlessly and memories glimmered at the edges of their minds.
But me!I have no vision of that ageing process for I feel fit and fine,up and about ,all geared up for a full day's work when suddenly I'mpulled upby the unpleasant thought 'I dont have to go and punch in at thePlayinyor taking a days leave just for the heck of it was a pleasure as sweet as stolen love.But now each day seems hellbent on reminding me that I'm no longer needed at the workspot.

Mothers day out

The old song goes like this "twas on a Sunday morning'' la la la .And one lazy Sunday morning when I was pondering on the earth shaking problem on what to cook for lunch I was literally catapulted out of the depths of rocker when my son Deepak [hereafter known as DK] announced that he was taking me out a see a movie at the one and only multiplex complex in our one and only shopping mall Oberon mall.

Normally it may not have been such a big deal, I mean going for a movie which I do when out with my cronies. But he said ,categorically I want you to see it in the Cinemax .Twill be an eye opener I guarantee Incidentally the Oberon mall is the currently hotspot in our city for Hanging out' as the jargon goes.

"Don’t worry about lunch well pick up something there' he said. That was the comet flashing thro my kitcheneering mind.

 And soon the bright Sunday morning Dk drove me to the mall.

Now I must make it clear that I'm no stay at home shopper but I was content to shop at the local supermarket or the nearest shopping outlet at ground level. Here at the Mall he drove to zero level parking the car in a slot amid a plethora of cars of all colours shapes and sizes .The area was well lighted and clean. Then up the lift to level two or some place and I was aghast when I saw the escalator a contraption an anathema to my senses.Dk solicitously shepherded me to a lift and pampered me 'Amma do you want to use the restroom, Amma do you want a drink, Amma why don’t you pick up some books you fancy and so on. I felt like Alice in Wonderland after she'd drunk the 'drink me potion
 I strolled leisurely alongside glass fronted beautifully window dressed shops blazoned with branded ware. I inched my way past hordes of youngsters out for a fun day, parents with toddlers in tow, shy brides in semi bridal finery by the side of their proud grooms strutting like cocks of the walk ,,senior citizens like me treading it carefully ,all surrounded by loud raucous music belted out in a fusion of scales  ragas , and rhythms.

Dk was at my side taking care that I didn’t stumble as I gawked at sights and sounds unfamiliar to my retired senses.

 And then into the plush comfort of the movie house .Here one didn't have to lift ones feet cautiously to avoid rat as one did in the movie houses in town. The huge screen and the sound effects that swept thro' one's senses was overwhelming to say the least. Hot cones of cheesy popcorn completed the ambiance. I was left with a sense of deja vu when we came to reality hours later. Like Aladdin’s genie Dk seated me and appeared soon with trays of appetizing hot food and drinks. I didn't have to wait in a queue or jostle a crowd for he saw to it I was comfortably seated, my plate was full and my heart sang along.

Tho’ no stranger to culinary comforts like no need to wash up or clean up. Not a care I sang to myself as I tucked into crisp potato finger chips tho that perky voice said mind the calories, and the kidney or something inside me said ‘your sugar level is sure to go haywire. I shushed those doleful fatwa’s and enjoyed my gargantuan repast like there was no tomorrow. The best part was not the chocolate brownie with lashings of ice-cream, but DK’s calm acceptance of me and my follies. He promised to bring me again. That was dear reader the icing on the cake. What more could one ask for.?

I slept soundly and like the ruminating cow I relive those wonderful moments which flash upon the inward eye when I sit in solitude