Why?

My heart swelled with pride when Vidat aged about 22 years an adult to the world but a mere lad to me went to his office in a chaffeur driven white car ,even more when he refused to drop me on the way saying the conveyance was for official purpose.
The same heart broke into peices when 2 years later he was conveyed in a black van.The unthinkable has happened.My son ,my child who should have succeed me has preceeded me.He,my son [ putra ] should be the one performing my last rites but here I am performing his. Some Events which were within my grasp and several beyond my control or comprehension has pushed me into a life of deep sorrow.All my love,affection and knowledge couldnt save Vidat. Is it true ? Did it happen?Won' t he push open the front door at 7 in the evening ,kick his shoes off and say Ma do you know what happened today and relate to me the day's happenings ?
The same heart is still ticking.How and why ?Was it God's intention to shake me up from my comfortable cocoon of middle -class life that chiefly consisted of untiring rounds of shopping, attending social functions to show off my latest pure silk sarees and ornaments,watching films ,enjoying languid noonsiestas, genarally a lotus eaters life ,to look around and endeavour to wipe the tears of his imperfect creations and make attempts to serve those less privelleged, who were ofcourse always there ,whose conditions had evoked pity from the periphery that was far from, my comfort zone and make a hea dlong plunge into a life of service to the deprived lot ,though stressful is sort of spirutuallyuplifting ?

India shining

A funny sight outside my first floor bedroom window on a hot May morning.The pvt company..... sanitary workers started shovelling two days of un collected garbage that was and is being dumped every other second by the the multitude of slum dwellers who seem to average 10 per single room tenements right opposite to my apartment and generate tremendous amount of garbage [a pointer towards economic prosperity] which they unhesitatingly and as a matter of right dump on the taxpayers side of the road as we the middle class sincere tax payers are a dumb lot having no political clout whatso ever, because we never vote enmasse' ,in fact enjoy election days as hollidays relaxing at front of the t.v whilst they receive money,goodies etc and vote religio usly,Now to get back to my story ,the sanitary workers started cleaning the dump from which such a huge stink arose that I had to flee from my room to the next.After a few minutes the stench ceased and I returned to myr oom and looked out of the window to greeted byan unusual sight.The 4or 5 young cleaners were drinking tea near a waiting mini truck in which all the garbage was dumped chatting happily whilst a young lad was taking photos of his co workers with a cell phone camera!
Clearing the road of garbage is not such a memorable event so as to be recorded in a cell phone camera, as it is part and parcel of his job , so most probably he was in augurating his newly purchased mobile! A sure sign of India's growing prosperity!B arely a decade back possesing a mobile phone was a symbol of luxury and the perogative of the rich but now it is considered as a neccesity in a highly voluble society and is accquired easiley by a vast majority of Indians !Even my neighbour hood rag picker has one !

reaction's to grief

People belonging to all classes of our society react in the same manner to other's grief.They are either unabashedly and insensitively curious to know the details of the tragedy and at times even over shadowing the interrogation of culprits or persons in news by brash t.v news reporters or resort to condemning the victim in case of untimely and unnatural death openly at front of the already hurt parents smarting under shock and pain.
Then fuel is added to fire or rather water to unshed tears which is threatening to breach its dam of self control and restraint ,by clucking their tongues in sympathy pitying patronisingly a person already drowning in a ocean of self pity, instead of extending a s trong arm of s upport or shoulder, to grasp and lean on silently ,assuring without condemnation by a gentle touch and refraining from commenting or liberraly dishing out unasked for advise and suggestions .
The subtle difference I see between lower and upper class is that the former will quickly capitalise on other person's grief monetarily as they are accustomed to death as in their midst it occurs frequently ,whilst the upper class will capitalise on it pschologically,deriving a moral boost with the thought that they are the chosen ones by god or dame luck ,not to be subject to such miseries in life, secretly relieved and at same time pondering or even passing judgement that the stricken person even deserve d it !
Then people start remembering the death of their far off relatives by accident,drowining etc and draw parralels in the mistaken belief that the bereaved person would be consoled in knowing that there are sevaral people sailing on the same boat .Yes ofcourse .Every one gets a tooth ache but the awful pain has to be borne by the individual,can it be shared or halved by another?Can the fact that several others are suffering from tooth ache lessen mine?It has to be borne by me alone.

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genaral elections

Voting !Candidates for the top job ,two old men with one leg in grave. It is ironical that most voters in this elections ,who are young and virile are voting for grampa's to rule India.One has a bad heart [by pass surgery under gone twice +age about 75] another is 82 with the telltale stoop of old age .Can such men lead a nation full of youngsters? Wouldn't they like to spend their twilight years by reading news papers, or watching t.v and nodding of to sleep whenever it over takes them?Probably theyoung, voters of India relate to these kind flexible old men better than to overbearing and rigid middleaged candidates just as in their family life they get along famously with grandpa and mom, than with their own dad and mom.

mother's day

I got a telephone call from one Muniappan early in the morning. I was racking my brain as to who that could be when a gruff voice as though divining my thoughts said Amma, I am the person to whom you gifted text books for B.A Tamil Lit FIrst year,last June,.I wanted to talk to you several times amma but didnt as I was shy but to'day being mother's day I have shed my inhibitions to recite to you a poem .He called me' amma' several times the way Vidat would ! Then the poor blind orphan boy whom I recollect of being tall and dark and of having met only once recited to me a poem of 4 lines eugolising motherhood which he claimed to have written himself !
My eyes filled with tears and I could hardly speak but somehow managed to thank him.
A small gift made by me to a orphan boy has touched a chord in him which makes him see in me the mother he never had.

Which mother could have a better gift than this on a mother's day?

catching moonbeams

Can any artist or scientist capture essence of life?Even the best artist or painter cannot capture the invisible energy of light shimmering through green leaves transforming it into a lively translucent yellow or the wonderful spectacle created when the morning sun dazzles into hundreds of silver stars that twinkle on the gentle waves of the sea when a shaft of sunlight cascades on it?
Can a scientist or an alchemist ever hope to create a perfume as fragrant ,gentle and that which fills up ones senses and waft through ones being soothingly such as the scent of myraid of flowers that bloom cheerfully every where in ditches ,in gardens or on the side of the road in early summer mornings ? No never !

The fastest traveller.

Sound travels fast. Light travels faster. Thoughts it seems to me is the fastest traveler of all ! It will take one millions of years traveling at speed of light to reach our neighbouring galaxy but traveling at speed of thoughts one can be there in a second and be back the next second powered by ones imagination!