A Line On The Street

Well, as usual, I set out for temple-darshan followed by self-inflicted rounds at the D-Gardens 😦 wondering what (story) awaits this morning.  

Didn’t have to go far or wait for long. It was right there within a few steps taken outside of our apartment!!! It has to do with the pic below. Shows a ‘curious’ hibiscus bush spilling over the periphery-wall of the neighboring bungalow, peeking at the street running outside. 

As I came up, saw a young man picking a bud from the bush pushing outside. In simple clothes, he looked like a guard or a help employed at some place near about. 

I paused to ask him why is he plucking a ‘chotu’ bud. 

Not annoyed, he cared to explain:  the bud would be left in a bowl of water and soon it would blossom into a full sized flower for whatever use he had. 

He continued his search for another to pick.

Trying to be helpful, I drew his attention to a large flower already in full bloom on the same bush, a little inside of the wall. All he had to do was pull towards him the overhanging parts of the bush to access the flower. Easy thing to do.

He shook his head sideways for a ‘no’ and proceeded to explain his ‘dharma’!

A few words of explanation here: Dharma is a concept complex and conflicting even to the erudite well-grounded in scriptures. ‘Righteousness’ in English comes close.  Not monolithic. Besides a small set of cardinal and inviolable principles, a good part of it is adapted to the time, place and role we live in life!! Even so, difficult to practice in toto. Lesser mortals like us draw a line between the dharma we practice and the part we don’t. A ready example is the oft-heard dictum: ‘Adhithi devo  bhava’ – treat your guests like gods.  Today, if a stranger knocks on our door, we hurriedly slide home all the bolts! In some cases, for an extra measure, the heaviest furniture in the house is also moved against the door! Out of sheer fear and insecurity we live under. Induced by the news headlines stamped into our heads? Maybe…

So what gives here?

Our protoganist – he draws his line of dharma along the periphery wall! Anything outside is ok to pick. Inside the wall, he wouldn’t as much as touch without asking the owner!!!

Took it in with a hint of smile,  nodded my head and moved on.

For his age, he had his line in place!

End

The Way Of Life

The old man was at his usual place near the entry of the temple. It was Dwadashi (12^th day of every fortnight) – the day we cook ‘agatthi keerai’ (Sesbania Grandiflora) in our houses, a kind of spinach, uncommon, said to be endowed with medicinal properties.

He hailed from the far-away historic city of Pratapgarh in Uttar Pradesh. Nudging eighties.

The day prior he had set out at midnight by a local train to a distant suburb where it was grown. Bought them, carried back and was ready at his station by early morning! His ‘shop’ was nothing more than a piece of white cloth laid out on the ground by the side of the street, with keerai bunches placed neatly in rows. Belonging to the mercantile community of baniya’s, he sold them at the best prices he could get!

On those days, as I left my footwear at the shoe-stand and he was not serving a customer, we greeted and engaged in some small talk. Brief and mostly inane, sometimes it included – no surprise for men of ripe age – info on health products, life’s wisdom, etc.  On one occasion, talking about painful knees, he strongly recommended an herbal oil ordered from Chennai – it had given him good relief. Another time, it was smarting teeth and bleeding gums. He was proud to tell me his tooth-brush cost Rs 200!! Wow!! To gently tend to the 3 or 4 tottering wards still left standing!

This Dwadashi, he had happily sold all his stock. Both of us were going homewards from the temple.

At a junction near my place, we paused to conclude an ongoing conversation before parting of the ways. That’s when he suddenly put his hand over my shirt near the shoulder blade. It was a hollowed hand, not a push or a punch.

All the same, an unexpected move. Our mutual familiarity did not extend to physical contact of this kind.

As I stood gathering my wits, he quickly took a few steps to one of those potted plants lining the street as part of a ‘green’ initiative rolled out by the local ward office. His palm gently opened on to a large leaf of the plant. Crawling out and disappearing swiftly and safely out of sight was a green caterpillar, unharmed!

So that was it! It had dropped onto my shirt from an overhead tree branch as we were standing and talking. A normal almost involuntary response would be to flick it off to ground where it could possibly be trampled upon by an unseeing or uncaring pedestrian. Now it would live to soon add a little color to a drab day!

With that he returned to resume the conversation – completely oblivious to the new found awe and respect in his company!!

End

Image from: https://www.herbalplantslive.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/agathi-keerai-e1589200543565.jpg

More On Happiness…

End

Must We?

Here’s a down-to-bones homeless destitute happily sharing his morsels with a dog!

Once-in-a-decade moment captured.

But the caption that follows…spoils the meal for us.

“Look at these without the riches – they may lack in possessions, but they have a fund of covet-able virtues…only they!” That’s what it means to say.

The purpose seems to be to sound a clarion call to our latent better selves Nothing wrong with that. But the word ‘only’ was unwarranted I thought. A generalization blown away in a mere breath.

However it is well in line with the detestable practice so prevalent in Tamizh writing – or, is it Indian at large? – to put something or someone down while extolling the virtues of something or someone else.

Is it a mere literary style, perfectly legitimate, for staging a little drama of provocation or something deeper – an odious expression of a hidden streak of envy, though harmless in itself, in the psyche of a class in the society proudly distinct from the ‘have-not’s and enviously not made it yet to have’s?

Is it a national trait to compare and contrast? Can’t we appreciate. enjoy life without…

End

Source: 100% சிரிப்பு இலவசம்

They Also Serve Who…

Sanmargam

The daughter in her forties and her 70-year old mother worked in the house as domestic help – the daughter cooked while the mother washed and swept the front-yard. At work, they rarely talked to each other. From their demeanor, one would never suspect they were mother and daughter living under one roof.

The daughter had grown up in her uncle’s house in Chennai while the mother had brought up her sister in the village.

It’s a sad story how her father abandoned her mother with two children while they were going some place by bus. Yes, he just disappeared at a bus stop leaving the illiterate woman in the middle of nowhere without a penny in her purse. Somehow she struggled to reach a relative’s house and find her way back with the children in tow. The man was rumored to have moved in with another woman in the…

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Thus Spake The Voices…

Sanmargam

End

Source: Typewriters voice shared by John Britto

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The Most Beautiful Word

The most beautiful word
In the world is not love,
Nor is it halcyon or hope,
And neither exemption nor blessed redemption
Falls into the breadth of its scope.

While words may have beauty
And susurrous charm,
Ineffable eloquence too,
And though mellifluous, they’re still superfluous;
Their arms cannot carry you through

All the walls that divide,
All the borders that hate,
All the ignorant eyes that can’t see;
The most beautiful word that could ever be heard
Is not “you” nor “I”, it is “we”.

2019 © Sonya Annita Song

End

Source: reowr.com

Why Did She Do It?

If it isn’t vanity, beauty, fitness….what’s your guess?

It’s very likely to be as wrong as can be! Well, mine was.

The transplant was successfully done in June 2013.

Here’s a clip:

End

Source: Sumith Gali and chinadaily.com.cn/

It’s Always Later Than Sooner…

in relating to them around me.

A month or so ago, I missed the call when it came. Coming from a distant suburb, he wanted to know if I was home and he could drop in. ‘Never mind, I’ll make it next time I’m in those parts,’ he promised.

Well,,,it didn’t happen. Unknown to me, a week back he had suddenly passed away leaving me waiting still for his call and visit.

J was in my school, in my class and a bench-mate for years. Once out of school, we were in touch off and on. Never really got to spend time together. He was busy climbing the corporate ladder scaling one peak after another along the way while I was going gray in my grind. But when we met, we always picked up the threads like it was yesterday.

It was a few years ago when J came down to my place last. And spent time engaging my mother, an old lady not in best of health. Seeing my house in a mess on that occasion, this generous soul spontaneously offered to help me financially and with a paid assignment, entirely unsolicited.

Regrettably this is not the first time fate dealt a vicious kick when least expected. ‘Better sooner than later’ seems to be a lesson never learnt in the school of life.

Well…I’m no Munir Niazi to say it exactly as it feels, as only he can in so few words:

हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं / मुनीर नियाज़ी
1923 – 2006, Lahore, Pakistan

ज़रूरी बात कहनी हो 
कोई वादा निभाना हो 
उसे आवाज़ देनी हो 
उसे वापस बुलाना हो 
हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं

मदद करनी हो उसकी 
यार का धाढ़स बंधाना हो 
बहुत देरीना^[1] रास्तों पर 
किसी से मिलने जाना हो 
हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं 

बदलते मौसमों की सैर में 
दिल को लगाना हो 
किसी को याद रखना हो 
किसी को भूल जाना हो 
हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं 

किसी को मौत से पहले 
किसी ग़म से बचाना हो 
हक़ीक़त और थी कुछ 
उस को जा के ये बताना हो 
हमेशा देर कर देता हूँ मैं 

End

Source: http://kavitakosh.org/kk/ and clip from Gul Advani

Jottings From The US: Anytime Is A Good Time!

Sanmargam

Though it has to do with our recent the trip to US, strictly speaking, this is more about after our return.

I finished my chores in the market and finally planted myself before her usual busy self in her office.

Despite feeling a little dizzy after a sleepless night on the flight, I had not lost my cool. Making light of it, I said: ‘Out there, I bragged how efficient you guys were and then…you let me down.’

‘Why, why? What happened?’

I knew she knew she had goofed – she had not got me an isle-side seat for me as expressly requested. Also, she had not acknowledged or apologized for it when I brought it to her notice later by email a couple of days ago.

A few more words exchanged – all polite. She came up with some clumsy explanation about how sometimes airlines on their own alter…

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