When Words Are An Intrusion…

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Source: ‎Push Pagaran‎ to படித்ததில் ரசித்தது, தமிழ் அமுதம், Chitthirai Theer Thiruvizha, Madurai India, My India, ‎Elango Velur Thiruturaipoondi Tiruvarur‎ to இயற்கை மற்றும் பசுமை

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It’s Their Day!

End

Source: internet

Road Traffic Accident (< 100 Words)

By jackfielduk in thedrabble:

We are comrades stuck in traffic. Nothing has moved for thirty minutes — it must be serious. Traffic opposite hurtles past, mocking our stationary plight.

The lorry driver jumps down from his yellow cab, speculating through an open window. A distant ambulance wails along the line, cars crabbing away from its path.

Finally, engines wobble into life, piercing our pop-up partnerships. As we crawl past the tangled wreckage, we stare and are thankful it is not one of us, accelerate away, turn up the music and…

…are enemies once more.

End

At Chennai International Airport

As we deplaned at the international airport at Chennai – it was a domestic flight from Mumbai – and made our way to collect our baggage, on both sides of the long walk we were treated to some delightfully eye-catching high-quality art-works – panels in relief, paintings, icons carved in wood…all drawing upon the rich cultural motifs of Tamil Nadu.

And that’s when our good old Murphy’s Law kicked in. Even if the gentleman had not said anything on the subject, I’m sure you’ll know what I mean. Here was art decked out in all its splendor pining for attention and adulation, and for crying out loud, my camera-cum-cell-phone rides in my wife’s handbag, about fifty feet in the lead. Lumbering along with a particularly heavy piece of cabin baggage, I had to be content merely ogling at these art pieces, telling myself may be next time…

Finally, caught up with the lady waiting for me to join at the entrance to the baggage hall.

I set my load on the floor and told her by gestures there was a pressing matter to attend that cannot keep..

Inside the toilet, I finished the business and then by sheer chance looked up.

And saw this:

The poster art, a civic initiative, by itself made sense as the city is presently reeling under severe water shortage this year. But its juxtaposition

May be it’s a brilliant move: Where/How else a message could get undivided attention for even up to a minute or more smack in the face of an audience helplessly glued to their station and at the same time in a relieved frame of mind 🙂

Retrieved my camera and took a shot of the art to ponder over the ways of those creative minds that worked on it – a perfect brain-food 🙂

And a small compensation for not ‘capturing’ those enchanting art pieces?

End

Archimedes, Take This: You Don’t Always Need A Lever To Move Things Around!

It is part of the routine morning walk – collecting flowers on the way, from plants jutting out over the peripheral fences/walls of apartment complexes lining the streets. No trespassing committed. And no one minds it’s only a few flowers.

The flowers are for offering at the temple and also for pooja at home, supplementing more fragrant ones like roses, jasmine, tulsi, sampangi, etc. bought from vendors.

Pinwheel flowers (Rajanigandha/Nishagandha) are the ones most commonly found at these places.  In season, they follow a cycle of about 3 days of blossoming in profusion followed by another 3 days of the next succession of buds to mature. Surprisingly the cycle seems to occur fairly synchronously across plants growing in different apartment complexes!

This was the first day of the blossoming cycle with just a few flowers peeking out here and there on the bushes. Even those ones and twos could not be missed out on the days when the collection ran thin.   

A heavy hand reached out to the thin stem of a solitary pinwheel flower appearing on one side of this bush. What followed…well, plucking was not to be!

The hand withdrew like it touched hot coals.

It wasn’t any muscle or machine power that caused the hand to go empty, moving back to where it belonged. Nor any ready-to-strike insect lurking around.

It was a mere butterfly…that flew in and settled on the lone flower, folding and unfolding its wings, uncoiling and sinking in its proboscis quite unmindful of the hand and its human.

What option then did the poor hand have but to get out of the way?

Since then the collection process stood modified to leave as much behind on the bush as was being taken.

End

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Source: amazon.in and thoughtco.com

When Stooping Low Is Fine!

This is based on a snippet that appeared years, rather decades, ago in Reader’s Digest:

Scene: In a shopping aisle of a retail store

A cute old lady sighted a cheaper box of detergent, a brand sourced locally by the store and hence stocked on the top shelf – it was the industry practice. These local brands introduced at the initiative of the store managers usually do not have the budget for more favourable spots.

Not the lady in the anecdote though. See her in the clip below:-)

She went right up and pressing herself against the shelf, taking care not to topple merchandise off the lower shelves, and put out her hands. No luck, she was still many inches short. Raising her heels a little also did not help.

She stepped back in disappointment and stood there wondering what next.

Just then another customer, a tall man, seeing her brief struggle, walked down the aisle to her.

Looking at where her gaze went, he easily reached and pulled out the box from its high perch and handed it over. It was she needed just one.

The lady thanked him gratefully. Feeling compelled to do more, she turned to him:

“Would you be needing anything from here?”

She was pointing at the bottom shelves for him.

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While some encounters go like this:

or here.

End

Source: vidmo.com

Did He Get It Right?

Real-life fiction:

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Time and place: Morning at the temple.

It was goshti time after receiving theertham (sacred water) and sadari.

[Goshti is when at the end of morning rituals, prasadam, usually thayir sadam (curd rice) is distributed to the assembled on plates or small bowls (dhonnai’s) fashioned out of leaves stitched together]

Many sat down and some of us with stiff joints stood to one side.

One of the staff (kiankaryaparars) distributed the dhonnai’s to all in the assembly to receive prasadam (a small part of the food offered to the god is returned to the devotees with blessings).

The cook in his traditional attire followed him from the kitchen carrying on his hip an anda (a big brass vessel) containing thayir sadam. With practiced efficiency, starting at one end of the small arc, he took a handful of sadam, dropped it into the first dhonnai held out, quickly moving on to the next man and to the next…

When he came to G – I see him once in a while at the temple – standing next to me, I noticed him slowing down with a deference, not par for a goshti, and a hint of a smile on his face. And the recipient acknowledging it by gesture and nod.

As the cook moved on to where ladies were, I asked in hushed voice: ‘What gives?’

G whispered back: ‘Only yesterday…he wanted some monetary help for his daughter’s college fees studying back in the South. I gave him’

‘Oh,’ so that was it.

Distribution over, the goshti was dismissed.

As we did the customary pradakshinam (circumambulating the sanctum) together, completing the last round, G went up to ring the kitchen bell!

When the cook came out, he asked if there would be some extra thayir sadam available.

A little strange, it was. This man many a times walked away without waiting for the goshti and the prasadam. And when he did stand in, he would specially request for a small portion. And today, he took it in full in the goshti and now was asking for more!

What was the matter? Perhaps he’s taking it for some guests visiting him?

He saw my nonplussed look and made a gesture for me to hold.

The cook, a bit surprised likewise, appeared too happy to oblige him.

A short while later he returned with a neatly wrapped and tied parcel.

As he handed it over, I noticed – the cook appeared pleased with himself and his demeanor going back to the formal, what it was always, without the deference, even if only a wee bit, displayed visibly earlier in the goshti! Not that he was rude, at any time.

Something nagged me nevertheless. Was gratitude so evanescent?

As we exited the temple, G turned to me: ‘I see you noticed it. Upset?’

Wasn’t he upset? And, here he’s asking me if I were.

Didn’t feel up to responding.

‘You see, my friend, I certainly did a favour to him, he too did one to me, whatever was within his capacity. Now the ledger is balanced, his self-respect has re-asserted itself.’

Weird! Interesting! Is that how it works? No student of human psychology and behaviour, could not agree or differ with G’s insight and intelligence in this matter.

Now outside the temple we were ready to part.

‘Here, take this, I’ve no use for it. Am single,’ he thrust the parcel into my hands and took off leaving me standing.  

When he was a few steps gone, he turned to me: ‘Don’t lose your peace over it, my friend. That’s precisely why I asked for it!’

May be, before I meet him next, I will have sorted this out in my head.

End

Source. deskgram.net