It is hot nowadays, even at 7 in the morning, if you are out on a walk. By the time you reach home, you are sweating from every pore. Not very pleasant, but think of it this way: you get a free sauna and the more you sweat, the better it is for your body. After the walk, it would be a good idea to go and fill yourself up with your day's supply of potassium....the water from a tender coconut. It would be an even better idea not to bargain and wheedle with the coconut seller to sell his wares for 1 or 2 Rs. less. Try and remember that he is working honestly, that he is standing near the cart practically for the whole day, that he uses the money that he gets to buy food for himself and probably his family and that he will probably never have the good fortune of getting any kind of education, and improving his lot in life. The young coconut seller we go to is called Rakhim, (no, it didn't sound like Rahim) and he is at his spot from 6.30 am. Two days ago, I noticed that one of his fingers was wrapped in a dirty cloth, so I asked him what had happened. He looked at me dolefully and said that it had just got cut, 10 minutes prior to our meeting him. It bled a lot, he told me. The knife they use is so sharp that it is terrifying. The finger almost got dismembered, he told me. We paid him more money than required and asked him to go and see a doctor. Yesterday he was sporting a new bandage on the injured finger; yes, he said, he had gone to see a doctor. Yes, he said proudly, there were lots of stitches. Then he said, diffidently, can I give you back the extra money that you gave me, yesterday? No, we told him, that was for you. Can I buy you sweet mangoes and give those to you, he asked. We refused, with a smile and went away, our hearts full of warmth. Said I not, that there are good people in the world, and that life is beautiful?
Have a blessed day.
Monday, April 20, 2015
Monday, April 13, 2015
After the break-up
Shall we be strangers again, you and I?
Shall we walk on opposite sides of the leafy lane where we once held hands?
Shall we turn our faces away when we see each other again?
I look at my silent phone and wonder how to fill up the empty hours when your voice filled my ears, and dreams, my heart
When the Sociology, Accounts, Physics textbooks were shields to cover the goofy smile on my face..........
And I wish there was someone I could talk to
Someone who would listen, silently
Someone who would let me be silent
Who would not be constantly checking their wrist watches/ mobiles because they have to be someplace else
And not judge
Or offer opinions, because I don't want them
Or tell me what I should/should not do
Or criticise, because there is nothing anyone can say, which I have not told myself already
Someone who would give me time to lick my wounds and become whole again
Someone who would teach me that there is always life, even after a broken heart
And that bitterness is not the answer
Nor is despair
And that as long as there is life, there is hope.
Shall we walk on opposite sides of the leafy lane where we once held hands?
Shall we turn our faces away when we see each other again?
I look at my silent phone and wonder how to fill up the empty hours when your voice filled my ears, and dreams, my heart
When the Sociology, Accounts, Physics textbooks were shields to cover the goofy smile on my face..........
And I wish there was someone I could talk to
Someone who would listen, silently
Someone who would let me be silent
Who would not be constantly checking their wrist watches/ mobiles because they have to be someplace else
And not judge
Or offer opinions, because I don't want them
Or tell me what I should/should not do
Or criticise, because there is nothing anyone can say, which I have not told myself already
Someone who would give me time to lick my wounds and become whole again
Someone who would teach me that there is always life, even after a broken heart
And that bitterness is not the answer
Nor is despair
And that as long as there is life, there is hope.
Spring, Sprung!
Spring, sprung!
Spring is in the air! And there is a spring in my step, and wells of joy spring up when I see what Spring has wrought. The credits for all these pictures go to my friend and colleague in the Department of MicroBiology, Selina Shah, who is completing her PhD. She loves plants and trees and knows the name of practically every flower and leaf, and shares her knowledge with people. These pictures taken by Selina, are of the same species of flower, called the Tamhan, or Laegerstromia, to give it its botanical appellation, and is, apparently, the state flower of Maharashtra. That is Selina's hand, holding one of the flowers, the better to photograph it.
'Roads dug up at 100 places within Mumbai,' screams the headlines in the newspaper today. I know. I am not being an escapist. I know the potholes exist. But since this blog is all about eternal hopefulness, I have decided to upload and applaud hope, rather than despair.
Here's gratitude, and joy, therefore, for the flowers and the trees and the new green of the leaves. Here's thankfulness for friends, old and new, who make life meaningful. Here's for books and words, coffee and conversation, chai and chaat and chats.
Words: and when not to use them
It was exam time in college and a student had discovered to her consternation that she had forgotten her Hall Ticket at home. Flustered and agitated, she went up to the teacher in charge and confessed that she had forgotten her hall ticket at home. The teacher shrieks at her, "What??????Are you an LD? How can you forget such things?" and the other teacher pipes up, "She hasn't forgotten to wear matching slippers and nail polish, but these things she forgets!" An LD, is a term that educational and other academic institutes use to characterise those with Learning Disabilities. And all the time, the child is standing there in a state of mindless panic, wondering where to go, and who to turn to.
The English text book that I teach my Higher Secondary students contains a poignant and heart rending account of the daily battles the mother of a child with learning disabilities has to face, to get her child 'accepted' as part of society, as we know it. She talks about how she felt vindicated, and that all her efforts were worth it, when the school her son went to, as well as her own family circle came to realise that her son was truly 'differently -abled.' He came home from a sports meet, apparently, with so many trophies, that she herself was flabbergasted. She recalls how she hugged the child and burst into tears.
It requires a lot of sensitivity and many examples to illustrate this piece of life, teach this lesson. But I feel that every effort is worth it, when I look around my class room and realise that a group of 70 odd teenagers, are sitting with rapt attention, listening to every word. And I know that it is a small victory for me, as a teacher. Because I know, that these kids will be a little more sensitised and a little more helpful to those who need help.
I have heard teachers say, in my hearing, "He is mad! He doesn't know something as simple as this!" And I have cringed with shock and embarrassment, when I have heard the words some people use to describe a girl (student) who is slightly more fashionable than her peers in college.
"Put it on my head," I was told, when I asked one of the college co-ordinators for a space to store some of the attendance forms I had collected from students.
And worst of all, is that curse, "Go and die!" to a very innocent question about what a student should do, because he was late for a lecture.
Words have power. Words have sound and fury and they signify a lot of things (with apologies to William Shakespeare.) Which is why they should always be used carefully. If you cannot but use words hurtfully, because you are angry, or irritated, it is better not to use them at all.
Perhaps everyone who plans to be a teacher, should take a compulsory course in Communication skills. Perhaps that would help them be a little kinder, a little more circumspect with words.
The English text book that I teach my Higher Secondary students contains a poignant and heart rending account of the daily battles the mother of a child with learning disabilities has to face, to get her child 'accepted' as part of society, as we know it. She talks about how she felt vindicated, and that all her efforts were worth it, when the school her son went to, as well as her own family circle came to realise that her son was truly 'differently -abled.' He came home from a sports meet, apparently, with so many trophies, that she herself was flabbergasted. She recalls how she hugged the child and burst into tears.
It requires a lot of sensitivity and many examples to illustrate this piece of life, teach this lesson. But I feel that every effort is worth it, when I look around my class room and realise that a group of 70 odd teenagers, are sitting with rapt attention, listening to every word. And I know that it is a small victory for me, as a teacher. Because I know, that these kids will be a little more sensitised and a little more helpful to those who need help.
I have heard teachers say, in my hearing, "He is mad! He doesn't know something as simple as this!" And I have cringed with shock and embarrassment, when I have heard the words some people use to describe a girl (student) who is slightly more fashionable than her peers in college.
"Put it on my head," I was told, when I asked one of the college co-ordinators for a space to store some of the attendance forms I had collected from students.
And worst of all, is that curse, "Go and die!" to a very innocent question about what a student should do, because he was late for a lecture.
Words have power. Words have sound and fury and they signify a lot of things (with apologies to William Shakespeare.) Which is why they should always be used carefully. If you cannot but use words hurtfully, because you are angry, or irritated, it is better not to use them at all.
Perhaps everyone who plans to be a teacher, should take a compulsory course in Communication skills. Perhaps that would help them be a little kinder, a little more circumspect with words.
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