It Happens…

First of a series of short vignettes on life around as seen, heard, felt or even read about:

I was on my morning ritual – walking around the outer periphery of Diamond Garden near where I live, with an enthusiasm that wasn’t exactly gushing, taking in the usual sights: other walkers speeding past me with an ease that at first annoyed me to no end, now at peace with it; straight-from-Nashik farm vegetables sold in a brisk but unlicensed trade under the fear of sudden raids and confiscation by allegedly-bribe-taking authorities; a motley bunch of young and old of both sexes collecting inside the Garden, flinging their limbs about as directed by a trainer and emitting noises from the deep-end of their voice boxes like they do in a movie on martial arts; an enterprising middle-aged lady serving, in small plastic cups designed to hold only a little more than a spoon-full, a chlorophyll-rich herbal concoction of ingredients pulled from half-a-dozen polished containers, perhaps to make up for an husband idling or lying senselessly drunk at home; another bunch, mostly in their sixties and above, in casual postures, letting out bursts of loud mirthless laughs – do these qualify for health benefits? – sure to  startle the unwary; a homeless guy looking like a runaway from coal mines, sitting feet up on one of those shiny steel benches reading a newspaper in English; …

I’m digressing.

Into what was my third round I think, this man crossed my path heading somewhere beyond the Garden, clad in a black dhoti usually worn by Ayappa devout’s, unshaven, with a small sandal-paste-kumkum tilak on his forehead.  As he pulled ahead of me, as they all do…ugh…, I read ‘TATAVAMSI’ printed at the back of a sleeve-less jacket he wore over his shirt. I was intrigued. One has heard of many vamsam’s (lineages) named after illustrious guru’s, acharya’s and even venerable rishi’s from mythology. But a vamsam by this name TATA – this was a new one for me. Who was this TATA his grandchildren so proudly and publicly announce to the world? Why not take his name? The word means grandfather in Thamizh.

Well, the question remained in my head for a few moments, going out of my mind no sooner he went out of my sight.

Then, it was not to be. In my penultimate round executed more in joy than in breath – the end was in sight, you know – this guy was walking right back along the same way he had gone, crossing me again. Curiosity could not be contained. I stopped him in his stride to ask him politely who was this TATA and what was grand about his grandfather that he went about carrying the old man on his back instead of in his heart as the usual practice was. He was startled out of his wits to be suddenly accosted by a perfect stranger and hit straight out of the blue with a query that made no sense to him even after he recovered his wits about him. Helpfully I drew his attention to the words he carried on his back.

‘Oh,’ he burst out laughing, ‘Sir, it’s nothing about my poor diseased TATA who would have given his life to belong to a worthy vamsam, it’s TATVAMASI.’

No elaboration was needed for the profound advaidhik pronouncement from the scriptures.

‘Oh,’ I said.

Moving on, mercifully and gracefully he didn’t make it worse for me. Having said that, I must also tell you this – at my age, it takes lot more than this for me to be shamed, a limit not challenged yet.

At the same time, inescapable’s cannot be ducked for long, Regrettably it looks like the long delayed visit to my doctor would be sooner than I had planned for my cataract. Though it would still leave me with the flawed ‘auto-suggest/correct’ feature embedded in my grey cells unfixed.

End

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Never Trust Godmen!

One never knows which side they’re on:

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Musings Of An Idle Philosopher

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1. Why nothing happens to me only? (Why not me?)

2. Why do they happen like this to me only? (Why me?)

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Source: fb (Sirikka, Sindhikka) /groups/1893540544250194/

The Story Of A Rich Man

Rich Men

The man was once asked, “How does it feel to be the richest man in the land?”

He said,

Richest man in the land…mmm…Well, I don’t know about that, but I certainly know of one who’s…”

After a pause,

“Many years ago, one day, while on duty in the downtown area, I paused at a stall selling newspapers.

A title in bold carried by one of them on display caught my sight. I wanted​ to buy a copy.

Rummaging my pockets, I couldn’t find the change (coins).

I stood there for a moment with my eyes still fixed on the paper, before moving away.

The observant boy ‘manning’ the stall pulled one and said:

“Take it.”

I said, “But I don’t have change”

“No problem, I’ll give you for free”.

The paper, on the inside, had an advertisement I found on subsequent perusal that was to change my life forever.

Six years later:

I was living in an affluent suburb and working from a marquee address in the central district. Downtown never figured in my beat.

On one occasion I suddenly remembered the incident – can’t quite recall what exactly triggered it. And I decided to find the boy.

Cutting to the chase, after a month and a half of search he was located – still at it, selling newspapers from a street a little away from where I had seen him last.

I asked him, “Remember me?”

There was no recognition. He looked at me head-to-toes, at my business suit, the sleek car I had alighted from…all way out of his league.

“You gave me for free a newspaper one day many years ago. I didn’t have the needed change.”

After some effort, “Yes, now I do.”

“I want to compensate you for what you did…and more. Tell me what would…?”

He cut in: “That’s very generous of you. Though, it still won’t be the same!”

“Eh?”

He said, “I gave you when you were poor and I could hardly afford give-away’s; you want to give me now, when you are rich. See?”

More words between us, to no avail…he stood where he stood.

I came away, my purse as heavy as ever, not a rupee poorer.

So, here I’m, unable to discharge my debt I owed. Now, what do you think? Does that make me…

End

 

 

Source – Based on a story from Vijay (quora.com/profile/Vijay-Kr-25) coming originally from Institute of Chartered Accountants of India – CA Students. Images from Success Stories and rediff.com

What Are The Most Unforgettable Words Someone Said To You?

A 97-year-old Japanese woman visits a nearby Buddhist temple every evening to pray, and ring the bell until the sun sets. On one of my own routine visits, I sat inconspicuously near the stairs listening to the vibrations take over the silent winter evening. Only this day I failed to get up before she finished, and soon found myself at the end of her walking stick.

“Would you like some tea?” I was asked, while she strutted down the stairs without waiting for an answer.

Soon, I was being served matcha (Japanese powdered green tea) in her living room, as we talked away for half an hour or so before she looked at me and said:

“I have seen my children and grandchildren pass away before I could, but what makes me sad is how I remember less about them with each passing year.”

…”

 

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Source: quora (Likhith-Manjunath living in Japan for over 3 years)

Musings Of An Idle Philosopher

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Musings Of An Idle Philosopher

Strange indeed are the ways of the world!

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Ennobling thoughts are archived  away (to a pen-drive), while

enfeebling ones are retained by one’s mind

(for ready access and constant regurgitation).

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Source: Pinterest Original in Hindi is not translated word-by-word.