It’s His Wish!

The picture showed the Multi-zillionaire tycoon Ambani worshipping Laalbaug-cha-Raja, the mammoth Ganesha hosted this year at Laalbaug, with his family.

The speculation rife on the social network was: while the family was offering prayers what could Ambani possibly asking of the God.  




Ever Wonder About the Size of Things? (A 100-Words Drabble)

From, authored by Beata Gallay at 


Compared to a particle, an ant is pretty damned big.

So an elephant compared to the ant.

Supersaurus weighed as much as seven elephants,

not to mention a blue whale that could weigh 150 tons,

three times heavier than a dinosaur of the same size.

But that’s where it stops, folks. Why?

Not enough food, bone structure cannot hold the weight,

limited speed of neurons from head to tail

equals too slow reaction time for survival.

Pretty lame excuses, if you ask me.

Is that the best you, the omniscient, omnipotent god

could come up with? You’re fired!





Good Lord, You Surely Made A Mistake

free clipart net Businessman_10

I was shocked, confused, bewildered
As I entered Heaven’s door,
Not by the beauty of it all,
Nor the lights or its decor.

But it was the folks in Heaven
Who made me sputter and gasp–
The thieves, the liars, the sinners,
The alcoholics and the trash.

There stood the kid from seventh grade
Who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor
Who never said anything nice.

Herb, who I always thought
Was rotting away in hell,
Was sitting pretty on cloud nine,
Looking incredibly well.

I nudged Jesus, ‘What’s the deal?
I would love to hear Your take.
How’d all these sinners get up here?
God must’ve made a mistake.

‘And why is everyone so quiet,
So somber – give me a clue.’
‘Hush, child,’ He said, ‘they’re all in shock.
No one thought they’d be seeing you.’


About Pigeons And Prayers

Pigeon kamil_stepinski
Can’t quite recall when and how it started. Now every morning, I go to the terrace above our flat with a bowl of raw wheat grains to feed the pigeons. Looking at the numbers that flock – usually they’re already there before I reach up – it can’t be more than a few grains for each. May be I should double or triple the feed. I take care to spread the grains to give everyone his/her – haven’t learnt yet to make out a male from s female – share. It’s polished off in less than a minute. It’s good to see the crows – they too are around in plenty – don’t elbow out the pigeons. I’ve seen occasionally an inexperienced crow pick up a grain only to drop it in a moment and move away.

Leads me to wonder what do these guys survive on in this concrete jungle? Unlike crows they don’t settle on any kind of refuse. And they do look plump and numbers are not on the wane. Also what do the mynas, sparrows, parrots, koel’s find to eat in this vegetation-insect-bereft no-soil neighborhood?

I see them in hues of jet black, dull grey, just grey to even white all over with a few dark spots. A few have iridescent feathers around their neck. Some of the larger ones stomp around in circles aggressively grunting. And in a flock, one of these bullies is sure to take a shine to another smaller specimen and is hard to shake off. Is that their courting game?

I realized these guys do nothing all day long besides swiveling their necks around and changing their perch once in a while. Pretty comfy life? Do these guys have an ecological role at all to play? Only their end is invariably tragic. They become flightless due to age or injury and are savagely pecked to death by the crows.

Different from the flock, there are two special guests that are served every day at an exclusive table to seat just one diner at a time – on the metal-top of the aircon sitting outside the bed-room window. One guy comes in the morning – for some reason, he has lost all his feathers around the neck, and the other – his feathers form distinctive serrations on his body, though I can never be sure if he’s the same guy – comes in the evening. They would sit patiently, occasionally peeking in through the window crack, until I feed them. And when I do it, I lay the grains noiselessly so that intruders don’t invite themselves. Of course these guys chase them out if they do. The fights can be pretty rough. It’s always the narrow neck of the interloper that is pinched with the small beak.

To be honest there are days when I get irritated that these little speechless guys force me to act in ways they want me to. The wish to do the unexpected is overpowering. I know I’m shamelessly falling far short of the ‘dharma’ (cardinal principles) of ‘dhaanam’ (giving away) that says when the right hand gives away even the left hand should not know. They just sit there severely looking at me with their tiny orange-ringed black-pepper-like eyes on rubbery necks easily swiveling from side to side with no hint of humor or gratitude, bidding me to do the right thing by them day after day. I make faces at them, tell them to go off elsewhere…They tell me to stop being foolish and get on with it.
Jaganath Ramchand
Does He in His High Heavens too feel like-wise at our prayers pressed on Him? I think I’ve stumbled upon why sometimes prayers go unheeded.

Can’t do much but feel sorry for His plight. Or, perhaps, pray?


Credits: (kamil_stepinski, Ramchand)

Miracle In A Garage


It was a long weekend. The parents of two boys (14 and 16 year-old’s) went on a trip with friends. They left early Friday morning and the boys were left alone at home.

That evening the younger boy made the suggestion that they take their dad’s car, pick up some girls and go to the local disco. The 16-year-old boy could drive a bit but was too scared. After some nagging he gave in and off they went to enjoy the evening.

When they got back to the car after a lot of discothequeing, they noticed a huge dent in the rear of the car – someone must have bumped into the car and drove off. Frantically they phoned their friends to find a panel-beater/spray-painter to fix their dad’s car.

Finally they found one on Saturday morning who promised to do the job on the same day if they brought the car right away.

The car was fixed properly and they parked it back in the garage that afternoon.

Their parents returned the next day but the boys were too terrified to say anything about the accident.

The father went to get something from the garage, came back very amazed and said to the family in the lounge,

‘A miracle has happened! The car has no scratches at all.’

The boys froze.

The mother threw a ‘So, what is the miracle?’ look at the husband.

‘If this isn’t a miracle…A guy drove into the back of my car on Thursday and now it is fixed without a scratch!’

Source:, openclipart (mazeo)

What’s Your Religion?

It was clear something bothered the man.

The Guru called him to his side and asked:

‘You want to tell me something?’

‘Yes…I have to confess, I’m not religious.’

‘That’s not unusual.’

‘So much disease, deprivation, hate, chicanery, crime, and wars… killing innocents all around.


‘Not sure if anyone is in charge here. This cannot be god’s – if there’s one – creation. I don’t believe in god, worship or prayer.’

‘You’ve a point.’

‘I don’t believe in karma and rebirth…and, in swarga (heaven), narak (hell) or moksha (eternal salvation). Life is here and now. Who has seen after-life?’

‘So much you don’t believe in. You believe in anything…anything at all?’

‘Not sure if I do. With so much suffering, inequities…’

‘Alright – is there anything you want to believe in?’

‘Well, if you put it that way…in goodness of man, perhaps, whatever is left.’

‘That’s here, not other-worldly and a good enough religion to go after, my friend.’


A Matter Of Death And Life!

A young man called Ramaswami died an untimely death.
His parents, wife and a nine-year old son were crying bitterly sitting next to his dead body.

They all happened to be the disciples of a holy man whom they called ‘Maharaj Ji’.
When Maharaj Ji learnt that Ramaswami had died, he came to visit the family.
He entered the house and found the family wailing inconsolably.
Seeing Maharaj Ji, the wife started crying even louder.
She sobbed saying, “Maharaj Ji, he has died too early, he was so young … Oh! I would do anything to make him alive again. What will happen to our son? I’m so helpless and miserable.”
Maharaj Ji tried to pacify the crying lady and the old parents, but the loss was too much for them to come to terms with so easily.

Eventually, Maharaj Ji said, “Alright, get me a glass of water.”
He sat near the dead body and put the glass next to it. And said, “Now, whoever wants that Ramaswami should become alive again may drink this water. Ramaswami shall come back to life.”
“Really, Maharaj Ji?” There were shouts of incredulous delight.
“You have my word for it,” assured Maharaj Ji.
There was a mad scramble for the glass, even the old parents making a dash for it.
“Wait, there’s more.”
They froze in their tracks for a moment and looked at the Maharaj Ji with undisguised “Now, what?”
He added, “But the person who drinks the water shall die instead!”

Silence..! They flopped down in disbelief and despair.

“Come, did you not say that Ramaswami was the sole bread-winner of the family? Who would take his place? It is a fair exchange, isn’t it?”

One look at the Maharaj Ji told them this strange transaction was not negotiable and he was serious about it.

The wife looked at the old mother and the old mother looked at the wife. The old father looked at Ramaswami’s son. But no one came forward.

Then Maharaj Ji said to the old father, “Babuji, wouldn’t you give your life for your son?”
The old man said, “Well, I have my responsibility towards my wife. If I die who will look after her? I cannot offer my life to you.”

Maharaj Ji looked questioningly at the old woman and said, “Amma?”
Amma said, “My daughter is due to deliver her first baby. She will be coming to stay for a month. If I die who will look after her and the newborn? Besides who but me will take care of this old man here? Being a diabetic, he needs special food to be prepared for him.”

Maharaj Ji smiled knowingly and shifted his gaze to the young widow.

She widened her tear-filled eyes and said imploringly, “Maharaj Ji, I need to live for my son…If I die, who will look after him? He needs me, please. Don’t ask me to do this sacrifice.

Maharaj Ji asked the son, “Very well, little boy, would you like to give your life to bring back your father?”
Before the boy could say anything, his mother pulled him to her breast and said with heat:

“Maharaj Ji, Are you insane? My son is only nine. He has not yet lived his life. How could you even think or suggest such a thing?”

Maharaj Ji said, “Well, it seems that all of you are very much needed for the things you still need to do in this world. It seems Ramaswami was the only one that could be spared. That’s why God chose to take him away. So shall we now proceed with his last rites? It’s getting late.”

With that, Maharaj Ji got up and left.


This is lightly edited piece out of a forward from Gul, source not known.