thank you sister

How do I thank you, Sister ?

My angel in spotless white uniform.

Stepping in to spread nameless cheer,

Stepping out to dismiss all the fear.

Always on duty with a beaming smile

As if she does not have a single care.

She carries all our burdens in her tray.

She watches over us through night and day.

 

How do I thank you, Sister ?

My angel in spotless white uniform.

Her hands work deftly and tirelessly.

Her shoes tap the floor in a hurry.

Her pat on my back so reassuring.

I think about my mother when she is frowning.

Her life is a sermon to those listening

She drilled strength and courage in me. 

How do I thank you, Sister ?

My angel in spotless white uniform.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Pictures from the internet with thanks 

 

In Search Of A Red Cardinal

That day I saw a red Cardinal

Sitting on the garden chair

Throwing a sombre glance

At things growing around,

As if casting a spell ..

I looked on spellbound

Just a few seconds ..

And the Cardinal flew away.

It left me wondering if 

It was looking for something..

Since then I keep looking out

For a close look at the bird.

Sometimes I see a red flame

Flying past the green trees

Or neatly mowed lush lawns,

Then the vanishing act 

Amidst the criss cross shadows

Of trees swaying in the wind.

How I pine to meet the red coat

Always flashing past quickly

Like a fleeting precious memory.

Never too close never too far

Keeps alive the hope in my heart.

To meet some day and shake hands

With the evasive red Cardinal 

And ask if he too is looking for

The scintillating colours of life

May be hidden in the deep forests

In the sparkling water of rivers

In the flight of an eagle flying high

In the Robin hopping across the lane

In the wanderings of a blue Jay or

Perhaps in the lively songs birds sing.

Why ?

Great men 

Wage wars.

Ordinary people 

Pay the price,

Without understanding 

Why ?

A man 

who has played music

On the streets of Ukraine

For years ,

Looks bewildered and asks,

What's happening ?

No one has the answer.

The man looks around

Then plays on ..the music.

It was in the news.

I looked for it later

To listen again.

But I guess 

Commonplace comments 

That do not become viral

Just disappear.

Why ?

 

Street Lights

Remember the glowing street lamps ?

Down the old lane in the nights ..

When we studied in our homes

Surrounded by reassuring comforts..

In breaks we looked out of our windows

To feel the cool breeze in the trees,

Admiring the flower like street lights

Beaming like blessings on the boys,

Sitting under them studying religiously

Holding the books close to their eyes.

For the mellow yellow light of the lamps

Was all they had cradling their hopes.

They blinked and scribbled their notes

In their stained one - sided used sheets.

So many of them sitting on torn chataais

Determined to overcome life's adversities.

Stubbornly challenging their difficult destinies.

Once they would pause to eat chapatis.

Looking up at the quiet twinkling stars.

All these students preparing for boards.

Some at home and so many on the roads.

Look at these flowers resembling street lamps. 

Don't they remind you of those diligent days ?

And those boys studying under the street lights ?

Wherever they are irrespective of results.

Hope now there is enough light in their  homes.

Bless me Swamiji

The Colour Palette

I like the way

The green leaves

Of bougainvillea

Slowly put on

A shade of pink

A mellow yellow 

And sage green,

Before a full bloom..

Opening your heart

To the much awaited

burst of colour...

A fashionable pink

Silent sombre white

Or a go between

Peach and orange !

Same with the rose.

A touch of vermilion

On some leaves

All set to roll out

A red carpet

To welcome 

The blooming bud first,

And then

Sashaying in 

The ever graceful 

Most beautiful rose

Striking a poignant pose

Wearing an endearing fragrance.

This is how nature blooms.

The seasons change.

Witnessing the flowering,

The bees buzzing busily

Greeting the butterflies

Basking in sunshine,

Harnessing the nectar

Making honey..

Gradually carves out

A vast warm embracing 

Space within,

To absorb

The inevitable and

The inexplicable changes,

And learning to discover 

A purpose 

In the different shades

Of the colour palette

Named life.

Pondering Over A Rose

Pondering over a rose
A bird meditated on
The compelling beauty
Of a blooming life,
That actually survived
The thorns in its stride.

The rose stands poised and pretty
Smiling with innocent pride.
Its fragrance is a blessing
That awakens the soul.

Reminds me how a little bird
Understands the overcoming
Of the everyday survival test.
Dodging the dangers surrounding
Its little family in the little nest.

Looking at them I got this feeling
Life's beauty lies in its struggles.

India 23rd may 2019

Flag and flower arrangement - Rekha Shandilya

The Sepoy Revolution

Workers cleaning the gutters
Without the safety gears
Died of poisonous gases.
Cried the bold headlines.

We the moral custodians
We the conscientious
We the sympathetic righteous
Shed thought-provoking tears.
Blamed the insensitive parties
And debated the dubious ethics.

While we hurled accusations
And became moral champions.
Three young students set to work
To figure out practical solutions.
They have finally devised an option.
To replace human scavengers
With affordable robotic scavengers.

We just found fault with the system.
They simply solved the problem.

Now it's our turn again to seek justice.
Insist on getting the idea implemented.

If opportunities come disguised as problems..
Then here is a mighty challenge for us to overcome.

Innovation to eradicate manual scavenging

Story Courtesy : Social Story

Image Courtesy : The Hindu

The Acknowledgement Of Sacrifice

Anonymous soldiers
of peace,
Quietly,
Lay down their lives,
Fighting
on the battlefield,
for the freedom
of their country.

Their countrymen
Those who are wise,
from their secure
home's comfort,
close their eyes,
with a condescending sigh,
sipping tea coffee
from a smug mug,
endlessly analyze 
and collectively 
philosophize.

The Bookmark

It was a cold night. And very quiet. Everyone had gone to bed after a tiring day. But sleep is evasive in old age. That day also I woke up in the middle of the night and sat on the bed wondering what to do. You know I can tell you from experience that whenever you feel kind of blank with no idea what to do next....just get up to drink water or visit the loo. By the time you are done, you know what to do! I am not kidding. Try it out. 

As I walked towards the kitchen, I passed my grandson  Abhiram's room. The door was closed but....I could see the light peeping from the crevices. This boy. He always falls asleep with a book in his hands and the lights on. Good, I woke up.

I opened the door slowly to avoid making any noise. In winters, even the slightest sound, especially during nights can be heard loud and clear. On opening the door, I found that Abhiram was awake. He was dreamily looking out of the window. A book lay open in his lap. The full moon was sitting on the window sill in all its splendour. Suddenly, he became aware of my presence and gave me a startled look.

"Still reading Abhiram? Is that a very interesting book?"

"Yes, Dadi." His face lit up and there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"What is it Abhiram? Will you tell me about the book ?" 

"Something more than the book Dadi", he said in an excited voice. Then suddenly he realized that it may not be a good idea to reveal the secret. So, he became serious and he said,"Nothing Dadi. Just something funny in the book." He looked away. He was on his guards now.

I sat down on the bed and told him that I was keen to know about the "something more" and wouldn't it be fun to share a secret with Dadi who was as curious as he was to know about strange or weird or adventurous things. This relaxed him a bit. He turned towards me. When he felt reassured, he moved closer to me and snuggled against me as he put the book aside. 

We sat quietly for a few moments savouring the warmth of the quilt and imbibing the calm of the night. Then I said, " How about calling Ma and Papa also so we can all enjoy your secret?"

There was a look of alarm on his face and he exclaimed softly, "Shhh! Don't tell anyone!"

Now I was kind of worried. What was the matter?

Abhiram smiled when he saw the puzzled look on my face and said," Dadi, there is nothing to worry about. But I want to tell you only because it is about books and only you understand and love books like me."

As the frown disappeared from my face, Abhiram started talking and it felt as if a boat had set sail in the river on a moonlit night.

"Dadi, remember you used to read to me every night when I was very small and could not read myself?  I simply related your narration to the pictures in the book and the whole thing became very real for me. When I grew up and started reading on my own, the stories I read actually started unfolding in front of my eyes whenever I sat alone and thought about them"

"Dadi, it was like magic! Even without any pictures in the book, the stories presented themselves just like a movie to me. I loved it."

"One night I woke up in the middle of the night and saw that the characters I had read about before going to sleep were sitting all around me. They smiled amiably and started talking to me. They were very wise. They answered many of my questions and taught me so many things. I started enjoying their company."

"Every night the magic starts when everyone falls asleep and the house is quiet. I look forward to these meetings and I don't want them to end."

Abhiram was silent for a while as I looked indulgently at him.

He spoke again, "Dadi, I tried telling Ma and Pa once but they laughed it off. Even my friends call me crazy. But you believe me, don't you Dadi ?"

I patted Abhiram's head gently and thought how the two book lovers in the family bonded together in a way only they could understand. 

My eyes were moist as I told Abhiram that I did believe him and that he could trust me completely. This is exactly what happened with me too when I was a child like him. There was nothing wrong with it. Books that are written straight from the heart connect you to the characters and thoughts enclosed between the pages. They become as true for the reader as they were to the writer. This is how a legacy of knowledge and perception is passed on from generation to generation. 

Books from all over the world help you to discover new worlds within you. Reading a book is exploring your inner landscape. Not all can experience this drama of emotions. Those who can, have a fertile imagination. A thought is sown and it grows by and by to bear fruit in the flowering season. You are a lucky boy to have been blessed with the special ability to communicate in this manner.

But remember that just like the seasons change, so do the experiences of life. One day you will grow up with this secret in your pocket. If you learn from the books you have read and don't forget to translate images and thoughts into action, you will always have this magic wand between the pages of your life which is called a bookmark.

Abhiram and me, the two conspirators in the night smiled knowingly at each other. We felt embraced by the warm glow in our hearts. We were all ready to turn the page! 

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’ 

And Then You Will Know

Yes. The time has come to talk about shoes first of all. If you ask me why? Here is the reason. Only when you wear your shoes, you come to know where it pinches and pinches the most. Let me tell you if you don't fix that it will be impossible for you to walk another step. And if you can't walk at all, what is the point of talking about anything else? So, the whole point is to take care of your shoes and they will take care of your journey. Any journey in life begins with small steps you take wearing your own shoes.

That is about being comfortable in your own shoes. But sometimes you need to try others' shoes as well. Sounds funny? Eh ? It should not actually. For unless you step into someone else's shoes once in a while, you become complacent and you start being judgemental about others. Others' behaviour, others' thought process and why others did what they did. 

So what? You might say. Well, it is important to understand others to lead a life well understood by others. To be fair to others so they can be fair to you. A life of understanding is that of happiness and peace of mind.

Reminds me of what Linda Goodman has said in the introduction to her book on zodiac signs. The study of the zodiac signs is to help people understand one another. Why people are, the way they are. What she meant was probably that every person has a different nature which is unique to him or her. Taking the point further, the other factor that goes into the making of a personality is the social environment that one lives in. We could also say that what happens in one's life and how he responds or reacts to it; makes people look who they are in our eyes.

What Elvis Presley sang about long ago is the same thing. Walk a mile in my shoes.......and so on. In a nutshell, he also said that if you try on my shoes or live my life for a day; you would stop judging me harshly. You would be more forgiving, more tolerant and more accepting of people who don't think like you or live like you.

How true! If only we could remember this all the time how easy we would be on others. Life would be more peaceful on this planet if we started appreciating others' philosophy of living while living our own lives as we wish. There would be less of a nuisance of our own making in this world.

Imagine. A husband would be more understanding of his wife. Colleagues would be more straightforward. The students would be more attentive to what their teachers taught. Religions would be more tolerant of one another. Countries would be more cooperative among themselves.

The experience of all great people through ages has crystallized into one thought. Being more understanding and less judgemental would help us live a more constructive life without coming in one another's way. The Bible also says - Do unto others what you would do to yourself.

It is all a matter of perception, my dear. So walk a mile in my shoes and then you will know...

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

The Box

The doorbell rang. The shrill note woke him up from his reverie.

Raghav had been sitting on the balcony watching the shades of twilight. His mind was blank and his heart seemed to sink with the sunset. The doorbell sound saved him from drowning in sadness.

Raghav walked up to the door and opened it. It was the courier boy who greeted him with a grin and handed him a big box. As Raghav retired again to the balcony carrying the box, he wondered who must have sent the box and what was inside it.

He sat down heavily and looked at the box with indifference. He did not feel like opening it. But then he wanted to be done with it, so he started opening it slowly removing all the tape which was all over the surprise box.

As he listlessly did the job he thought how passive and lifeless his life had become after Revati had separated from him. Their only child Reeva was now in the boarding school as her parents tried to figure out what had gone wrong between them and how to deal with it. Differences had overcome the common bond between them which was love. How and why did that happen ? Neither of them had a clue. It just happened and shattered their happiness.

The box was now open. There were many smaller boxes or packets inside. All of different shapes and sizes. What was there in those boxes? Who had sent them? What for?

As he took out the boxes one by one, he noticed they were all sort of DIY - Do It Yourself kits. At the bottom of the box was an envelope. He picked it up. There was a note inside by....Reeva ? Oh ! so the box was from Reeva. What was the need for her to send him this box with a note? Raghav started reading the note eagerly.

"My dearest Papa,

I don't know why Ma and you have stopped living together. What I know is that living away from each other has made both of you sadder than you were before separation. Papa, I do not want to put pressure on you to be together because of me. But I want to tell you all the same that I am happy living together as a family with both of you. Do you think we can give ourselves one more chance ?

Here is the deal. I am sending both of you a couple of DIY kits. I have been very upset in the last few months. So are you. Both of you. The difference is that I am in a school. So I am still learning. Learning the tricks of the trade ? Well ! You could say that. One day our class teacher gave us an assignment which was a kind of DIY stuff, an assortment of all sorts of things. We were asked to create something out of it. Points for the originality of the idea. 

It was fun Papa. The results surprising. Every one of us had made something we could be proud of. The teacher said, " That was the whole idea children. What you have in life is what you make of what you have. "

That's it, Papa. All of a sudden it struck me. Life is a box of assorted Do It Yourself toolkits. Not everything is to our liking. Whatever it is, it belongs to us. Life provides the stuff. The ideas have to be our own. We can do our best and make out of it what we can. And have fun while we work on it.

Perhaps, it will not be a perfect situation. But Papa can we not try to have fun together working on our own things to do ? You and Ma know better of course !   

If life is a box of individual assignments and assessments, can we not try to figure it out together ?

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

The Window Seat With A View

Those who travel in Mumbai local trains know that getting the window seat is like hitting a jackpot ! And a bigger jackpot if one gets the window seat in the direction of the wind ! Specially in the hot and humid weather ! More so it is a heroic deed if you can achieve this feat in the peak hours or office hours !

Well, coming to the point ! There is more to a window seat than just being a comfortable seat for a short nap or for relaxing by listening to music and reading a book. There are groups of daily passengers who sing in chorus all the way. In the ladies compartment, there are other activities also like knitting, chatting, sharing snacks and even chopping vegetables for the meal to be cooked soon after reaching home in the evening !

I commuted on the Harbour Line of Mumbai locals for more than 20 years ! A daily affair ! Going to the office in the morning and returning in the evening ! One usually catches the same train every day meeting the same passengers daily. You just notice some people and watch silently, you exchange smiles sometimes and you become friends with some who may be sharing the same thoughts or interests. For many years, I also was part of a group of like-minded people. We used to share seats by turn. Singing was a favourite past time. Quite energizing in the mornings ! In the evenings, most of us were tired so we ended up either taking a nap or talking to the friend sitting next to us or standing opposite us. Or sometimes, just looking out of the window. 

Looking out of the window of the local on Harbour Line ! Many would exclaim in wonder ! Goodness ! What's there to look out at ! Everyone knows that on looking out all you can see is the dirty slums and the open drains ! Nothing scenic !  Add to that the pathetic signature smells of different stations ! Alright ! But is that all ? No.

In the mornings, it is rejuvenating to feel the fresh and cool wind on your face, part of the way ; before the foul odours start flowing in. When the train crosses the bridge over the sea, watching the soft sunshine playing with the waves and the fishermen's boats dotting the vast expanse of the sea while the singing group chants stotras, has a calming effect on you and sets a positive mood to embrace a new day. 

As the train moves on, you can see flowers blooming on the plants growing in a solitary tin can. It brings a smile to your face. Beauty finds space in an already cramped shed like home. Wait ! Home after all ! Because only a home can offer you room when there is hardly any room at all !

When you are commuting back home in the beautiful evening twilight, you are reminded of what Emily Dickinson wrote, "Tell all the truth, but tell it slant." The orange tinge of the sunset waves goodbye to you. As it becomes dark, one by one the lights switch on in the apartment windows of buildings in distance and in the slums very close to the tracks. You wonder about the activities going on in the flats. May be those people have already reached home or may be the people at home are waiting for others to return from work and watching TV. 

As far as the slums are concerned, you can see everything inside when the lights are on. Long ago they must have stopped bothering about that. In a small space, there is a small TV,one cot,and racks lining the walls. On one side the clothes are stacked. On the other side is the gas stove with food cooking on it and the very few clean and shining steel utensils neatly stacked in the racks. Somehow, it impresses upon you a sense of orderliness amidst all the chaos of slum life. Is that what you call the zest for life ? A lone bright flower smiling in a tin can .. clean tiles and shining utensils in a very poor home .. all defying the stench growing out of the open drains flowing right next to them. So why do we keep complaining about so many things all the time ? It makes you think.

Thank your stars if you get the window seat and you can look out of the window to see things you may like or you may not, things that will make you uncomfortable and things that will stay with you all your life ! Make your choice !

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

       

Praying Without Any Reason

Prayer sews up the torn ends of our lives, when needed. And prayer enhances the quality of our daily lives, when done without any expectations. However, everyone has a reason to pray. And some pray without any reason. That brings us to the question.. why do we pray ?

Is prayer equivalent to asking ? Asking for good health, success, happiness and anything and everything under the sun.May be yes, on the level of daily consciousness. May be not, if it is the language of our soul. 


Bapu .. Mahatma Gandhi has said about prayer -

"Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul." 

Longing indeed. When the soul wants to spread its wings and reach out to God.. talk to Him.. its called prayer. It is to offer our purest thoughts to God that we pray.  

What is my reason for praying ? Prayer works like an emotional catharsis for me. Every time I pray, it changes me a little bit. It helps me figure out things for myself by laying my heart open before the omniscient God. 

But I believe God has a sense of humour too and he loves to listen to us when we go to Him asking for things ranging from "good marks in the board exam.." to "Oh God please ! make her fall in love with me !"

The most innocent prayers are said by the children. They are unaware of this dilemma of what prayer is. They have been taught to pray and to trust God. So they entrust Him with their secret desires and innocent wishes. Their prayers are the most touching ones as well. 



Remember the story in which a little girl gifts her father a box filled with wishes and prayers !

The funniest side of praying is that sometimes older people sound like children in their desperation to pray for things to change the equation of their lives ! A college student I know prayed to God so he may pass the examination in which he had hardly answered the paper ! What would you call that ? Misguided faith in God's power or trying to fool even God !  

Myriads of reasons to pray ! Pray to lose weight ! To win the cricket match ! To get the cinema tickets for the first show !
To get that coveted job ! To get married to a wealthy and wise girl ! Hmmm ! To be the next lucky winner of the first prize !
To become the party secretary ! To get a promotion ! No end to it really !

To talk about the ritual of praying. Some people just sit and meditate. Some chant mantras. Some count beads. Some light a lamp or an incense stick. What we call the agarbathies in our language. Lighting an incense stick is like weaving a thread of our innermost thoughts. The fragrance kind of purifies the surroundings and helps one to be in deep thought. 

Cycle Brand Agarbathi pack just serves the purpose when prayers are held at our home. It has a most soothing and calming effect on our tired and frayed nerves. That is why we will be celebrating Diwali this year with the Cycle Lakshmi Pooja Pack to complete this  year's pooja rituals.

The Indian tradition is to begin our day with a prayer of the well being of our fellow human beings. 



Sarve Bhavantu Sukhinah, Sarve Santu Niramayah. 
Sarve Bhadrani Pashyantu, Ma Kashchid Dukh Bhagbhavet.

Wishing happiness, good health, the right perspective in life devoid of sorrow.                                                                    

In fact, in all cultures of the world the practice is to begin a day and end a day with a prayer.


                                                          

When we pray God smiles at us and showers us with his blessings, whatever our reason to pray is.

http://www.pureprayer.com/

Happiness is ..

Happiness is ..

.. a twinkle in your eye.
.. sunshine in your smile.
.. sparkling snow on the way to school.
.. a splash in the swimming pool.
.. the rhythmic humming of the breeze.
.. whispering rustle of dry leaves.
.. pitter pat-pat of little feet.
.. green shade of the trees lining the street.
.. a bird hopping on the window sill.
.. a waterfall cascading down the hill.
.. a letter found in the letterbox this morning.
.. sitting by the fireplace in the evening.
.. kites flying against the wind.
.. a garden smartly pruned and trimmed.
.. a cup of hot tea and cream bun.
.. a thought stretching in the sun.
.. a day to look forward to.
.. a wish that may come true.