Deep Ties

When other children ran ahead, he stumbled often and fell, but got up each time, determination brightening his face. “Why can’t I be like other children, Ma?” When the query banished the happiness from his mother’s beautiful face, he stopped asking. Instead he overcame his physical frailties by allowing his mind to encompass the world with one click of his computer. As his body became frailer, his mind travelled across continents. Through Facebook, he created virtual albums, segregating spaces to family and friends, and browsing to build up his already prodigious knowledge. In his every action was the urge to experience life in all its hues, as if there were no tomorrow! His doting parents took him everywhere in his wheelchair; his grandfather would discuss interesting topics with him, his father physically carried him around. His cousins spent time with him; each person wanted a little space inside his large heart. At the age of 23, he invited a large gathering of family and friends t...

Priyanka’s comments... Reasons Why I Miss Home: Ma: • •Her ‘pun’ny (sometimes awful) jokes, leaving Pa and me to look at each other and think, “What is wrong with her? Sigh!” But we still love her…” • •Walking into the house screaming, “What’s for dinner todayyyy?” • •Mama’s lecture on how I should learn to eat everything after I scrunch up my face hearing it’s either Bhindi Sabji or Korma curry! • •During dinner, the first sentence is always, “How’s the chicken?” resulting in Papa and I rolling with laughter. We would both in unison say, “Excellent, excellent!!” • •Telling her to stop being such a Face book addict and stop adding strangers to her profile. But according to her, the world is too good and human beings can do no harm! • •Her late evening jaunts to the super market when she suddenly realizes there’s no bread or eggs or chillies in the house! • •Her random cleaning sprees, which usually do not affect me. However, the words, “CLEAN YOUR ROOM!” usually made me see red! • •All...

Oh no, I groaned as I flew out of the house. “What a way to start the day!” My wife stood at the door, brandishing a frying pan, a non stick one at that, which she maintained in its immaculate condition. However, there were times when she did forget about taking care of it, as now, a moment ago, when it descended on my head more than once. “I’ll fry you, you worm!” she screeched at a glass shattering pitch that would have done an opera singer proud. The worm squirmed. I cocked a wary eye behind me, and thankfully saw her retrace her steps. She would never come out on the street minus her lipstick. The storm had abated for the present. I was so occupied in sneaking a peek behind me, that I failed to notice the paper boy sailing along merrily on his shining paragon of a bicycle. He saw me too late and we came together with a resounding clash. I picked myself up gloomily and dusted my poor rear which had come off the worst in the encounter. Maybe I should acquire a suit of armour ...

The waves lap around the parent vessel As it cuts its way Through the azure carpet; The little life boats tied to its sides Are guided through the stormy waters In a snug cocoon of protection Against the swells that threaten To engulf them! The gentle mantle placed on them Creates a halo in the ripples around, Cushions their falls, every little bump Makes them stronger! The day arrives, When each little life boat is cut adrift, Sent on its way, to meet new challenges – New dangers, in the world of chaos outside! Each traces its own path Through a sea of change, yet below the surface, The lifelines stretch out, Leaving room enough to move on, But they remain tethered, The invisible bonds under the surface, And the age old links continue, unbroken. Picture courtesy: Gopi Menon

“Get me an autograph of Dhoni’s!” my sister ordered. “And one for me too!” chimed my daughter, as I nodded like the cat that had got the cream! Hadn’t I just been invited to the IPL party after the home team had won magnificently? ‘No problemo!” I said, brimming with confidence. That would make it three autographs in all; one for yours truly as well! And so I left, armed with a notebook, a pen, and oodles of confidence, all set to meet the Chennai Super Kings in my Sunday best. A misnomer, as I stood out like a sore thumb, in what seemed to be a spiralling out-of-control collection of PYTs in micro minis, healthy cleavages, and flurries of giggles! But more on that later! Security guards seemed to be the norm, as I got to the counter at the venue, and a pretty lady asked me to wait, as I had got there much too early. A terrible habit that was a relic of having been part of the Indian Army! It was 9.30 pm, and I crawled into a safe corner, pretending to be part of the ornamental potted ...

Are you on the side of those who make India hang her head in shame or those who raise her head in pride?” asks Aamir Khan in an ‘Incredible India’ advertisement. I am as big a patriot as the next person, but sometimes, queries buzz about inside my head querulously. Is there any harm in talking about those aspects of our country that could be wished away! Do you need that big gob of spit that just misses your big toe on your way to an important appointment? Or that red-flecked liquid spewed out so casually in a traffic snarl? What could be worse than that giant phlegm-filled hawk that begins from deep inside a champion ‘spitter’, making you wince and shut your eyes and ears in anticipation of the actual event? And those artistic red squiggles on pristine walls, winding staircases, and ironically, below signs which scream “Please do not spit here!” What about male members of the human species with undoubtedly canine habits, when they sight a vacant wall, and proceed to let loose in pub...

Don’t we sometimes wish we could remain children All our lives? Nestled under the wings of our parents? Isn’t it ironic how they nurture us till we are able To stand on our feet, then let us go, content; Is it really worth it, showering love on a child Who has to leave one day? Is it worth the pain, the tears, the smiles, the joys, The anguished hours of growing up The lessons of defeat and triumph That strike an echo in their hearts too? Or is it that the very threat of separation Gives sweet poignancy to the relationship, Making the ties as delicate as cobwebs, Yet, at the same time, strong enough To withstand the ravages of nature? Ties – unfathomably deep, the bonds of a lifetime!

Thousands of students have passed through her loving arms and gone on to create niches for themselves the world over. For them, Nalini Miss is the person who held their tiny hands and walked along with them through their school years, whispering words of hope, but chiding them when they slackened! She is the mentor who smiled encouragingly when they did well academically, but smiled even brighter when they did something good. She boosted their morale, and built up their self confidence through various co-curricular activities, which made them hold up their heads against a competitive world outside. For each of her students, she is Nalini Miss, the one teacher whom they treasured deep within their hearts, especially when they won laurels and collected bouquets, when they met friends and talked about the good old ‘Hari Sri’ days. She represented the mother, the guru, the mentor and above all, the friend who could create magic in their lives. Today there are students around the world, who...

Whom the Gods love, die young... What can I say about my father, Lt. Col. K.R.E. Chandran, who, despite being an Army officer of exceptional calibre, was yet the gentlest man that I have ever known? The eldest of three sons, he was the favourite and the most loved one in his family. What one noticed first about him was his smiling eyes, punctuated by a jerky laugh that came straight from his heart. When he joined the Indian Army, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was the epitome of an ideal soldier – patriotic, straightforward and chivalrous to the hilt. His penchant for the written word, and the beauty of his calligraphy, made his letters unique, especially in a time when people tended to speak more and write less. Even today, when he is no more with us, it is these letters, much read and frayed, which truly capture his spirit on paper. The Army was an ideal backdrop as he set out to use his engineering skills and agile mind in various ways, both in peacetime and in war. His...

This was written by a black gentleman in Texas and is so funny. What a great sense of humor and creativity!!! When U Black, U Black! When I was born, I was BLACK, When I grew up, I was BLACK, When I went in the sun, I stayed BLACK, When I got cold, I was BLACK, When I was scared, I was BLACK, When I was sick, I was BLACK, And when I die, I'll still be BLACK. Now, you 'white' folks.... When you’re born, you're PINK, When you grow-up, you’re WHITE, When you go in the sun, you get RED, When you're cold, you turn BLUE, When you're scared, you're YELLOW, When you get sick, you're GREEN, When you bruise, you turn PURPLE, And when you die, you look GRAY. So who y'all be callin' COLORED Folks? Picture courtesy: Rogue Design and Image's photostream

"When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her". Sacha Guitry Marriage is two hearts that beat as one and two souls that crave to be together... all very poetic and pleasing to the ear! Often this gives way to the seven year itch, when after the first stormy onrush of emotions, replete with Valentine's Day gifts and outpourings of love, signs of ennui seem to set in. The husband begins to stop pretending that his wife is Helen of Troy and begins looking around, albeit discreetly. The wife is likewise occupied, emptying her spouse's pocket to line her cupboard, buying expensive clothes, perfumes, accessories, in short, everything to stay attractive and ahead in the race. However, the first step is always the most difficult as there is the blasted conscience that has to be reckoned with. Once that is quashed, with the little red devil patting one on the back encouragin...

There are moments in life when a quick wit and presence of mind work wonders.This incident was no different. The play practice was going on in full swing, the theme being the evergreen epic, the Ramayana. As all the participants were physically or mentally challenged, the roles had been chosen with much care to make sure they could be essayed with ease.The young hero, Rama, was a hearing impaired child, who guided his little spouse, Sita, tenderly across the stage as she was blind. In return, she paid heed to the music in the background and the ensuing dialogues, prompting him at opportune moments. Hanuman performed his antics wonderfully, despite being afflicted with cerebral palsy, and the audience rooted for him whole heartedly. The rehearsal was really going well, especially as all the little actors had memorized their lines and knew their cues perfectly. Suddenly a high pitched voice piped up. “Ma’am, ma’am!” The teacher looked down only to see Ravana, tugging at...

Who exactly is a new born parent? Just every parent with a new born child, groping in the dark, even as he or she marvels at the God given gift before them! Perfect fingers and toes, delicate pink nails, round little eyes, a nose uniformly flat till it perks up later in life, every part a miracle of life! Benjamin Spock deafens with his ubiquitous advice, as well meaning friends and family members offer long homilies on what to do and what not to do. Most of the time, these opinions clash, as do titans who have booming voices that drown all else! New born babies are smarter than their inexperienced parents. They know the right buttons to push to reduce the latter to blubbering masses, much akin to the Chinese [or is it the Japanese] form of torture that ensures that they do not sleep at night. So new born parents end up, bleary eyed and cranky, fighting to keep their peepers open even as Baby dear sleeps the day away in blissful oblivion, emitting tiny snores intermittently. Food has t...

“Wow, we’ve been married for almost 25 years!” exclaimed my husband in the first week of February with a note of surprise that I didn’t quite savour. He made up for it by booking us at the Ramada Caravela Beach Resort, Goa. We left behind a bemused daughter, a happy mom and a grinning dog who felt he too deserved to go along! Despite its fortress-like exterior, Ramada Inn, quite off the beaten path, has a reception area that takes the breath away. As we waited to be chaperoned to our rooms, our spirits lifted at the sight of the large colourful frieze that depicted a slice of Goan life... and the sight of the Atrium Bar brought a further twinkle into my husband’s eye. The golf cart trundled along as we rode in solitary splendour to our room, taking in high archways in white and rust, edged with yellow, green and red motifs, green palms swaying, the dome shaped roofs, cool water bodies, and an infectious spirit of bonhomie as passersby waved, faces wreathed with smiles. “A sea facing ro...

The sea at night was strangely overwhelming, with the stars out in all their splendour. We sat at the Sunset Bar, lulled by the murmur of the waves that rose in intensity with every hour, as a nightcap appeared from a Goan boat serving as the bar, and a magician turned up to thrill the children with his card tricks. At dawn, the Dolphin Cruise beckoned us as we got into life jackets, along with two other couples, on a boat with two crew members. Picturesque trawlers dotted the horizon, and suddenly there they were, a family of dolphins that bobbed up, did their somersaults in perfect unison as we squealed in excitement, and then went under to reappear at a totally different spot. It was like a match at Wimbledon with all of us swivelling our heads every time they surfaced. Breakfast done, we decided to leave our footprints on the sands and take a stroll along the beach, the sun beating down on our backs. The little waves lapped at our feet, as the larger breakers surged in, salt crysta...

The proverbial can of worms has proved to be the easiest thing to open, judging by the plethora of events that have stormed the public bastions over the past few weeks. While cricket has largely dominated the eyeballs, a few other games which had been simmering alongside, have now boiled over and taken the centre stage. So how exactly does one open a can of worms in the most public manner possible, in just a few easy steps? The essential premise is to believe that you are god, or above the law, actually a law unto yourself and that no one can touch you, as you are hovering so far above them all. Identify the can of worms. Choose the one most juicy, most rampant and most likely to catch the public eye; popular categories being sports, politics, business, all of which can be made more interesting with a hint of spicy scandal. Identify your opponents. These might be celebrities, always useful as they are already in the limelight or people who are more popular, wealthier, bluer-blooded or ...