A cry from yonder, from the innards of a loving heart! Part -1
Futile! That is what they all said. They all knew what they were speaking about. Their wise heads nodded in unison. An exercise in futility, or was it really? The million dollar question was, do I meekly agree and prove them right or as is my wont should I attempt to see the invisible and do the impossible? I did not know their minds but I knew my heart, so I decided to listen to it which reverberated with that shrieking voice that had woken me up from my slumber. A voice not only of a young and beautiful girl, but it was a cry from yonder, from the innards of a loving heart.
“You just enjoy your coffee and then go back to your beauty sleep. By the time you wake up everything will be over and the child will be dead. But what is it to you?” She had shrieked her lungs out.
For a whole fortnight I had been getting barely 2 hours of sleep, working nearly 22 hours to finish an important project. I had just about managed to finish it that morning and was about to hit the sack with a vengeance to make up for a fortnight’s sleep when my sister had come with a steaming cup of coffee accompanied with a fuming young neighbor, who did not even know that I had just come back that morning.
Her elder sister was in labour when I had left two weeks ago and this ear shattering outbreak was in response to my innocuous query as to how was her sister and the newborn. Even before I could gather the last fragments of her response she had stomped out.
I looked askance at my sister, who calmly told me that the child was in pretty bad shape and the doctors had given up hope. Maybe he was even dead by now, as she had just come from the hospital unable to bear the sight. She was upset that I had not visited them even once during the interim period. My coffee had gone cold along with my blood rendering my brain numb. I shook my slumber away and told my sister to get my clothes ready and headed for the shower.
The hospital was an apology in the name of a medical service provider. The child was laid on a thin mattress on the floor, as there were not enough beds. The child was barely breathing. The doctors had given it a maximum of two more hours to live. The parents of the child were sitting in front looking more lifeless than the child itself and watching it with tearless eyes, as if waiting for it to die. The doctors and their support staff was squirming restlessly facing a very indignant me, trying to convince me of the futility of the situation.
….. to be continued
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Death! Is it all there is to life?
Death! Is it all there is to life?
There were times when I wished we all knew when we would die so at least we could prepare ourselves and our near and dear ones to our impending death.
Right through my youth since I came to realize the real essence of being alive I had encountered death albeit indirectly through relatives, friends and acquaintances. Subsequently when I view a brief flashback of their life as I knew them and also the way their immediate kith and kin viewed it from their perspective, I have always wondered as to when, do we really die?
When does life really end? When the heart stops beating, or the brain stops working or the mind stops willing? I am confused.
I have a friend who is suffering from a rare ailment and aware of it too and its ramification, death at any moment without warning. He is not supposed to drive, or do a lot of things but still does it all as if nothing is wrong. He cannot survive without his bike and I for one pillion ride with him on highways and crowded streets without a care in the world, for I am worried that the scare on my face might reflect what he does not want to see. On the contrary the smile and eagerness of my attitude prompts him to believe that there is no end to life, even in death.
Lisa Ray, international model and film actress and voted as one of the ten most beautiful faces of this millennium by one of the leading dailies of the world, has been diagnosed to be suffering from a rare form of cancer, Multiple Myeloma . This is a type of cancer that normally afflicts people above the age of 60, and she is just 37. Cancer in any form, at any age, in any country means just one word, death.
Lisa has taken it in a very stoical manner by the way she has described it and goes on to add that she believes it can be cured. When she mentioned just before going for a treatment session that she is a junior member of the cancer club, and she was going to listen to her bone marrow, she sounded like a pregnant woman speaking of the child she is nurturing in her womb with all the love in the world. There seemed to be life in death too.
On a Friday eveing a fortnight ago I met a close friend who worked as a manager in a posh restaurant. After his usual admonishment as to how weak I looked, we spent time sharing some light banter and coffee. Later he walked me to the escalator and shook my hands reminding me that we will meet on Sunday.
On Sunday morning I was rudely awakened at 7.00 am by his assistant, informing me that my friend had met with a fatal accident on Friday night. The funeral was on Sunday at 4.00 pm. We did keep our appointment for Sunday but sadly only one was aware of it.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, but death had stifled life.
Death! Is it all there is to life?
There were times when I wished we all knew when we would die so at least we could prepare ourselves and our near and dear ones to our impending death.
Right through my youth since I came to realize the real essence of being alive I had encountered death albeit indirectly through relatives, friends and acquaintances. Subsequently when I view a brief flashback of their life as I knew them and also the way their immediate kith and kin viewed it from their perspective, I have always wondered as to when, do we really die?
When does life really end? When the heart stops beating, or the brain stops working or the mind stops willing? I am confused.
I have a friend who is suffering from a rare ailment and aware of it too and its ramification, death at any moment without warning. He is not supposed to drive, or do a lot of things but still does it all as if nothing is wrong. He cannot survive without his bike and I for one pillion ride with him on highways and crowded streets without a care in the world, for I am worried that the scare on my face might reflect what he does not want to see. On the contrary the smile and eagerness of my attitude prompts him to believe that there is no end to life, even in death.
Lisa Ray, international model and film actress and voted as one of the ten most beautiful faces of this millennium by one of the leading dailies of the world, has been diagnosed to be suffering from a rare form of cancer, Multiple Myeloma . This is a type of cancer that normally afflicts people above the age of 60, and she is just 37. Cancer in any form, at any age, in any country means just one word, death.
Lisa has taken it in a very stoical manner by the way she has described it and goes on to add that she believes it can be cured. When she mentioned just before going for a treatment session that she is a junior member of the cancer club, and she was going to listen to her bone marrow, she sounded like a pregnant woman speaking of the child she is nurturing in her womb with all the love in the world. There seemed to be life in death too.
On a Friday eveing a fortnight ago I met a close friend who worked as a manager in a posh restaurant. After his usual admonishment as to how weak I looked, we spent time sharing some light banter and coffee. Later he walked me to the escalator and shook my hands reminding me that we will meet on Sunday.
On Sunday morning I was rudely awakened at 7.00 am by his assistant, informing me that my friend had met with a fatal accident on Friday night. The funeral was on Sunday at 4.00 pm. We did keep our appointment for Sunday but sadly only one was aware of it.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, but death had stifled life.
Death! Is it all there is to life?
Friday, September 11, 2009
Writing
Writing is a kind of relief valve for pent up emotions. Way before the internet or even computers, people used to write diaries, jotting down their day to day experiences and sometimes to the last minute detail. These were mostly people who could not give voice to their thoughts but they found they could give form to their feelings by way of words. Then again some found it was nice to write poetry on something that caught their fancy. There are guys like me for whom writing is a passion. I remember thinking of something nice to write on my way only to find myself having forgotten what I wanted to write. That gave birth to my jotting down points or a profound observation or sometimes a whole poem on a bus ticket or a paper napkin from a restaurant or any small bit of paper torn out of some odd newspaper.
I used to convert these into small stories or poems or just make a small paragraph and then use it in some other works where a situation warrants. I used to consider myself some kind of a maverick to be doing all this till I came across the computer. And now we have the internet and I find that I am just a mere speck in this vast ocean of word peddlers, and like we all agreed we get paid to put words to our thoughts. May our tribe of writers increase.
I used to convert these into small stories or poems or just make a small paragraph and then use it in some other works where a situation warrants. I used to consider myself some kind of a maverick to be doing all this till I came across the computer. And now we have the internet and I find that I am just a mere speck in this vast ocean of word peddlers, and like we all agreed we get paid to put words to our thoughts. May our tribe of writers increase.
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Wednesday, September 9, 2009
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Saturday, August 15, 2009
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Wednesday, August 5, 2009
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Thursday, July 23, 2009
Making hay while the sun eclipses.
Are eclipses a bad omen? Recession has brought man's worst fears and nightmares out from the shadows. How ever the spirit of Man for all its worth also came to the fore, when he decided to sell the shadows itself, at a premium too.
Touted as the biggest and longest total solar eclipse of the century, the magnitude of which would not to be seen again for the next 123 years or so, it was but apt that the eclipse be viewed diagonally across the biggest countries inhabiting mankind viz: Africa, India and China. Everything was set for the celestial spectacle to unfold, but for the dampener in the form of rain clouds over the Indian subcontinent. The enterprising mankind came up with the solution, if the clouds soar above you, then you soar above the clouds, 41,000 feet above sea level to be precise at a price though, to view the spectacle undisturbed for 6 minutes and 39 seconds.
Charter a packaged "Eclipse flight".
Those familiar with sea and air travel would fondly remember long forgotten terms like portside and starboard side. In these days of mobile texts and internet mails, the sacrosanct terminologies are not merely abbreviated but in times of sheer opportunism, they go for a total toss.
For this momentous day, irrespective which way you are flying the windows come with a small price tag difference. I repeat "difference" of 50,000 bucks to be or not to be, in the league to have witnessed the sight of the century.
6 minutes and 39 seconds is close to 7 minutes of sheer extravaganza the nature has provided and it has made millions for a few, just like in another era, another gentleman made millions again by interpreting mans emotion in natures extravaganza lasting allegedly and precisely "seven minutes" by Irving Wallace", but then that was another story, in another century.
Long live our tribe, for if the recession has cost Man, the moon, we promptly decided to make good our losses by selling the moon's shadow.
Are eclipses then a bad omen? Not really, if you are making hay while the sun eclipses.
Touted as the biggest and longest total solar eclipse of the century, the magnitude of which would not to be seen again for the next 123 years or so, it was but apt that the eclipse be viewed diagonally across the biggest countries inhabiting mankind viz: Africa, India and China. Everything was set for the celestial spectacle to unfold, but for the dampener in the form of rain clouds over the Indian subcontinent. The enterprising mankind came up with the solution, if the clouds soar above you, then you soar above the clouds, 41,000 feet above sea level to be precise at a price though, to view the spectacle undisturbed for 6 minutes and 39 seconds.
Charter a packaged "Eclipse flight".
Those familiar with sea and air travel would fondly remember long forgotten terms like portside and starboard side. In these days of mobile texts and internet mails, the sacrosanct terminologies are not merely abbreviated but in times of sheer opportunism, they go for a total toss.
For this momentous day, irrespective which way you are flying the windows come with a small price tag difference. I repeat "difference" of 50,000 bucks to be or not to be, in the league to have witnessed the sight of the century.
6 minutes and 39 seconds is close to 7 minutes of sheer extravaganza the nature has provided and it has made millions for a few, just like in another era, another gentleman made millions again by interpreting mans emotion in natures extravaganza lasting allegedly and precisely "seven minutes" by Irving Wallace", but then that was another story, in another century.
Long live our tribe, for if the recession has cost Man, the moon, we promptly decided to make good our losses by selling the moon's shadow.
Are eclipses then a bad omen? Not really, if you are making hay while the sun eclipses.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
A true story: Stranger than Fiction.
Have you ever heard a parrot kept in an open cage? One neighbour of mine keeps a parrot in an open cage. Once he found a small parrot lying injured in his garden, he immediately took care of it, got it cured very lovingly, kept in his home in an open cage, with all the necessary feeds.
When the parrot became quite big enough to fly, one day it flew away. To every ones surprise it returned to its cage at dusk. This continued for days creating a sight for amusement for the neighbours.
After a few months our neighbour got tranfered to another city and his family started looking after the parrots feeds. After a couple of days of his transfer, the parrot also flew away for good.
This saddened the entire neighbourhood. The cage was always kept in its place with all the fresh feeds waiting for the parrot to return. Its master fell sick on hearing this news and had to be hospitalised. The entire neighbour hood prayed for his recovery and for the parrot to return.
After a couple of weeks of his recovery, he got his job tranfered back to our city, and stayed back. After a few days, to everyones surprise, the parrot returned back to its open cage one evening. The entire neighbourhood gathered at his place in disbelief to watch this wonderful miracle of nature. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and excitement. Everyones happiness knew no bounds.
If you love somebody, free it. If it is yours, it will come back to you. If not, it was never yours.
Yours4ever.
When the parrot became quite big enough to fly, one day it flew away. To every ones surprise it returned to its cage at dusk. This continued for days creating a sight for amusement for the neighbours.
After a few months our neighbour got tranfered to another city and his family started looking after the parrots feeds. After a couple of days of his transfer, the parrot also flew away for good.
This saddened the entire neighbourhood. The cage was always kept in its place with all the fresh feeds waiting for the parrot to return. Its master fell sick on hearing this news and had to be hospitalised. The entire neighbour hood prayed for his recovery and for the parrot to return.
After a couple of weeks of his recovery, he got his job tranfered back to our city, and stayed back. After a few days, to everyones surprise, the parrot returned back to its open cage one evening. The entire neighbourhood gathered at his place in disbelief to watch this wonderful miracle of nature. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and excitement. Everyones happiness knew no bounds.
If you love somebody, free it. If it is yours, it will come back to you. If not, it was never yours.
Yours4ever.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
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Saturday, June 27, 2009
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Friday, June 19, 2009
A matter of Trust and Faith
A matter of Trust and Faith
Trust and faith more often than not means the same, but in fact can be very diverse in its connotation. They also have the uncanny habit of becoming judgmental and growing on you, so much so it becomes very hard to shake them off you after a prolonged period. A case in point is when you direct your twin emotional feelings on Governmental machinery, its functions and functionaries; it becomes very difficult to change your stance. Even if a miracle was to happen and a government functionary has turned a new leaf for the better, you still tend to view it with a fair amount of skepticism.
Against this backdrop, when I weigh my other inherent quality of not calling a crook - a crook till he has actually been proved crooked, I do tend to give anyone the benefit of a doubt. This time the benefactor of my largesse was the much maligned Indian Railway System, well known for its lethargy, callousness, total apathy and indifference.
On 26 /11/2008 Mumbai city was nearly brought to its knees by a group of terrorists. Post this attack, the railways buckled up its pants and beefed up its security. To augment this system they provided an hotline Mobile number for the general public to call, to cater to any untoward incident or suspicion. This number was generously splashed and pasted along everywhere in the railway precincts and trains for the benefit of the general public and train commuters. Needless to say our twin emotional feelings came to the fore and soon the public gave not even a cursory glance towards these numbers and life proceeded normally like it would in any buzzing metro like Mumbai.
On a very sultry afternoon I was traveling by the suburban train, which is the lifeline of Mumbai. It was very hot and humid and instead of sitting I preferred to stand to catch some breeze from the doorway. There was a gentleman standing on the footboard, talking very animatedly on his mobile phone, when suddenly he let out a huge gasp and started wringing his hands. As he was in the direct vicinity of my attention I asked him what happened. He replied that someone hit him from outside with a stick.
Examining his hand I asked him whether any bones were broken, to which he nodded in the negative, but mentioned that his mobile was gone. Then it struck me that robbery was the motive behind the attack, and I told him to lodge a complaint with the cops at the next station, to which he nodded but added with a sarcastic 'what’s the use?' query. Suddenly I espied the emergency number on the window panel above the window and I suggested him to call that number. He looked at me incredulously and slowly said "I have lost my mobile and if I had another you really expect that number to work? You must be naive." The twins were at play
I just shrugged as my aforementioned theory about the crook came to the fore and handed my mobile to him and goaded to call the number.
The bell it seemed was ringing as he gave me an all knowing smile when suddenly he perked up and started giving details of the incident. Even while he was describing, the train reached the next station where I was supposed to alight, so I asked him to get down too. When he finished he gave me my phone which immediately started to ring, a business call. Even as I was about to take the call, I asked him to give me his name and address or contact no. so that I can get in touch with him as the cops would automatically contact me if the make any headway. My cell was ringing incessantly so I took the call and while I was doing so, the next train came in and he started to board it. In mid conversation I asked him again for his contact no. to which he said in as many words do you really expect them to call and boarded the train. I went back to the conversation with my client on the phone. My phone in the meanwhile began to give a call waiting signal.On completing my call, I looked at the call waiting no and found it to be unlisted in my phonebook.
Suddenly my phone rang again, it was the same missed call number and a grave voice informed me that the mobile I had reported as lost has been retrieved and the thief nabbed, so could I please go and collect the same after identifying it. I looked at the rear of the train that had just left the station taking along with it the man whose mobile was lost and found.
Now the owner was lost as he had not given his contact number and it was very unlikely that he will call the cop station as his twin emotions, trust and faith in the system had eroded unconditionally.
It was exactly eleven minutes since the emergency number was intimated. The phone was found and the crook had straightened but faith and trust was still conspicuous by its absence.
However the system made my day and as I saved the emergency number in my mobile under the title 'Trust & Faith - Railways', my heart and mind echoed kudos to an effort made in the right direction.
I was happy to know someone is there somewhere, vigilant and guarding.
Yours4ever.
Trust and faith more often than not means the same, but in fact can be very diverse in its connotation. They also have the uncanny habit of becoming judgmental and growing on you, so much so it becomes very hard to shake them off you after a prolonged period. A case in point is when you direct your twin emotional feelings on Governmental machinery, its functions and functionaries; it becomes very difficult to change your stance. Even if a miracle was to happen and a government functionary has turned a new leaf for the better, you still tend to view it with a fair amount of skepticism.
Against this backdrop, when I weigh my other inherent quality of not calling a crook - a crook till he has actually been proved crooked, I do tend to give anyone the benefit of a doubt. This time the benefactor of my largesse was the much maligned Indian Railway System, well known for its lethargy, callousness, total apathy and indifference.
On 26 /11/2008 Mumbai city was nearly brought to its knees by a group of terrorists. Post this attack, the railways buckled up its pants and beefed up its security. To augment this system they provided an hotline Mobile number for the general public to call, to cater to any untoward incident or suspicion. This number was generously splashed and pasted along everywhere in the railway precincts and trains for the benefit of the general public and train commuters. Needless to say our twin emotional feelings came to the fore and soon the public gave not even a cursory glance towards these numbers and life proceeded normally like it would in any buzzing metro like Mumbai.
On a very sultry afternoon I was traveling by the suburban train, which is the lifeline of Mumbai. It was very hot and humid and instead of sitting I preferred to stand to catch some breeze from the doorway. There was a gentleman standing on the footboard, talking very animatedly on his mobile phone, when suddenly he let out a huge gasp and started wringing his hands. As he was in the direct vicinity of my attention I asked him what happened. He replied that someone hit him from outside with a stick.
Examining his hand I asked him whether any bones were broken, to which he nodded in the negative, but mentioned that his mobile was gone. Then it struck me that robbery was the motive behind the attack, and I told him to lodge a complaint with the cops at the next station, to which he nodded but added with a sarcastic 'what’s the use?' query. Suddenly I espied the emergency number on the window panel above the window and I suggested him to call that number. He looked at me incredulously and slowly said "I have lost my mobile and if I had another you really expect that number to work? You must be naive." The twins were at play
I just shrugged as my aforementioned theory about the crook came to the fore and handed my mobile to him and goaded to call the number.
The bell it seemed was ringing as he gave me an all knowing smile when suddenly he perked up and started giving details of the incident. Even while he was describing, the train reached the next station where I was supposed to alight, so I asked him to get down too. When he finished he gave me my phone which immediately started to ring, a business call. Even as I was about to take the call, I asked him to give me his name and address or contact no. so that I can get in touch with him as the cops would automatically contact me if the make any headway. My cell was ringing incessantly so I took the call and while I was doing so, the next train came in and he started to board it. In mid conversation I asked him again for his contact no. to which he said in as many words do you really expect them to call and boarded the train. I went back to the conversation with my client on the phone. My phone in the meanwhile began to give a call waiting signal.On completing my call, I looked at the call waiting no and found it to be unlisted in my phonebook.
Suddenly my phone rang again, it was the same missed call number and a grave voice informed me that the mobile I had reported as lost has been retrieved and the thief nabbed, so could I please go and collect the same after identifying it. I looked at the rear of the train that had just left the station taking along with it the man whose mobile was lost and found.
Now the owner was lost as he had not given his contact number and it was very unlikely that he will call the cop station as his twin emotions, trust and faith in the system had eroded unconditionally.
It was exactly eleven minutes since the emergency number was intimated. The phone was found and the crook had straightened but faith and trust was still conspicuous by its absence.
However the system made my day and as I saved the emergency number in my mobile under the title 'Trust & Faith - Railways', my heart and mind echoed kudos to an effort made in the right direction.
I was happy to know someone is there somewhere, vigilant and guarding.
Yours4ever.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
An ode to mankind
Oh God!............. God willing!………Its God’s wish!……..God’s ‘Will’ be done.
Throughout the history of mankind, the human race has consciously or otherwise surrendered itself to the belief, faith and trust in the supernatural – a force never seen, only believed. And yet the belief has been handed down through generations, with every subsequent generation adding a little more by way of its own contribution to the already mystique existence of a supernatural power of God, with Region, Religion, Race, Caste, Creed, Community, Consensus notwithstanding.
Somewhere in this race to outdo each other in the manifestation of a supernatural power, Mankind has slowly and steadily but surely eroded belief in its own simple power of touch, feeling, understanding, empathy, sensitivity and sharing being the ultimate harbinger of succor and sensibility. Man has forgotten to connect to mankind. Period.
She is all of seven, - bubbly, sprightly, witty, mischievous with a huge sense of humor and never known to cry or crib, instead blessed with a resounding laughter to boot. She could be the life of any home any where in this huge world of mankind, without a care in the world, innocent and yet ignorant to the vagaries of success and failures this life throws up at regular intervals to test Man’s belief in his own self worth.
Not any more.
Today her world collapsed, for she tasted what would be her first ever failure in life.
She flunked her academic examination in school. Everyone was shocked to say the least but still no one lost any time in ridiculing and chiding her. Her every action, which till a few moments ago was the cynosure of all eyes was derided for being the root cause in puncturing the inflated expectations of her fair weather fan club.
On hearing the news, my senses went numb, not as much for her failure, but for the fact that in our enthusiasm in partaking her little joys and victories we had forgotten to condition her to accept failure. I asked for her to be brought home immediately. Even that fact was conveyed to her as a veiled threat.
She walked in, with small hesitant steps, a pale shadow of her exuberant self, eyes puffed up, tears swelling, literally shivering, barely audible and a look of sheer fright of not knowing what was in store, a look of the death of innocence.
When she reached arms length, I did what she had least anticipated. I smiled.
I held out my arms, gathered her, softly kissed her forehead, looked straight in to her welled up eyes and softly told her,
“How many times you have slipped and fallen, and then simply jumped back, just patted clean your dress and smiled at your audience as if nothing ever happened. Treat this also the same way. Nothing has changed. Everyone fails sometime or the other. You are no different. You are still what you were a few moments ago before you got your report card, our little angel.
The welled up tears slowly trickled down, and as if waiting for her vision to clear and she was actually able to see my smiling countenance she suddenly without warning just threw up her small frail hands around my neck as tightly as she could, nearly choking me and throwing me off balance. She whispered in a clearly overwhelmed but barely audible voice, without releasing me,
“I love you” and clung to me for dear life.
A full minute later which seemed an eternity, when she released me I saw her face slowly get its glow back with the renewed blood circulation which had nearly threatened to stop.
Parity restored. Childhood returned. Innocence restored. Mankind was alive and kicking.
We always tend to forget our own powers to understand, touch, feel and interpret. To do just this we don’t have to disturb God.
It is time we told ourselves, the world at large and someone in particular, that I am here, just….
yours 4 ever.
Throughout the history of mankind, the human race has consciously or otherwise surrendered itself to the belief, faith and trust in the supernatural – a force never seen, only believed. And yet the belief has been handed down through generations, with every subsequent generation adding a little more by way of its own contribution to the already mystique existence of a supernatural power of God, with Region, Religion, Race, Caste, Creed, Community, Consensus notwithstanding.
Somewhere in this race to outdo each other in the manifestation of a supernatural power, Mankind has slowly and steadily but surely eroded belief in its own simple power of touch, feeling, understanding, empathy, sensitivity and sharing being the ultimate harbinger of succor and sensibility. Man has forgotten to connect to mankind. Period.
She is all of seven, - bubbly, sprightly, witty, mischievous with a huge sense of humor and never known to cry or crib, instead blessed with a resounding laughter to boot. She could be the life of any home any where in this huge world of mankind, without a care in the world, innocent and yet ignorant to the vagaries of success and failures this life throws up at regular intervals to test Man’s belief in his own self worth.
Not any more.
Today her world collapsed, for she tasted what would be her first ever failure in life.
She flunked her academic examination in school. Everyone was shocked to say the least but still no one lost any time in ridiculing and chiding her. Her every action, which till a few moments ago was the cynosure of all eyes was derided for being the root cause in puncturing the inflated expectations of her fair weather fan club.
On hearing the news, my senses went numb, not as much for her failure, but for the fact that in our enthusiasm in partaking her little joys and victories we had forgotten to condition her to accept failure. I asked for her to be brought home immediately. Even that fact was conveyed to her as a veiled threat.
She walked in, with small hesitant steps, a pale shadow of her exuberant self, eyes puffed up, tears swelling, literally shivering, barely audible and a look of sheer fright of not knowing what was in store, a look of the death of innocence.
When she reached arms length, I did what she had least anticipated. I smiled.
I held out my arms, gathered her, softly kissed her forehead, looked straight in to her welled up eyes and softly told her,
“How many times you have slipped and fallen, and then simply jumped back, just patted clean your dress and smiled at your audience as if nothing ever happened. Treat this also the same way. Nothing has changed. Everyone fails sometime or the other. You are no different. You are still what you were a few moments ago before you got your report card, our little angel.
The welled up tears slowly trickled down, and as if waiting for her vision to clear and she was actually able to see my smiling countenance she suddenly without warning just threw up her small frail hands around my neck as tightly as she could, nearly choking me and throwing me off balance. She whispered in a clearly overwhelmed but barely audible voice, without releasing me,
“I love you” and clung to me for dear life.
A full minute later which seemed an eternity, when she released me I saw her face slowly get its glow back with the renewed blood circulation which had nearly threatened to stop.
Parity restored. Childhood returned. Innocence restored. Mankind was alive and kicking.
We always tend to forget our own powers to understand, touch, feel and interpret. To do just this we don’t have to disturb God.
It is time we told ourselves, the world at large and someone in particular, that I am here, just….
yours 4 ever.
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