FLAVOURS OF INDIA

Flavours of India aired on Kairali T.V. by Lakshmi Nair is not just about regional cooking but an educational travelogue that takes the viewer on a splended journey to places a lot many people from Kerala have only heard of. Lakshmi's tour of Goa reminded me of a time when I worked in an office that had quite a number of Goan ladies working. The Chicken Xacuti, sorpotel, the fish curry brought back beautiful memories. I had made these dishes about 20 years ago! And to watch these recipes shown by Lakshmi, made me want to try them out again. About 25 years ago, I had visited Goa with my husband and the best thing I enjoyed there was the beaches and the food! Ofcourse the Goa today is developed into a much more attractive place for tourists. The Goans like Keralites tend to use a lot of coconut in their cookery and also love fish curry and rice. I enjoyed the beaches of Goa that was telecast and the shacks with restaurants that was a such a visual treat. Having tried a huge variety of Goan food, I do recommend those aspiring to visit Goa to try out all the authentic Goan cuisine. Goans tend to use vinegar in their meat and chicken that adds zest to the delicous food that they prepare. Their sweets require elaborate efforts but are worth it. Goans love food and cooking it and serving guests. There was never a dull moment in any Goan party I had attended.


I am enjoying the rest of the travelogue where Laskshmi took the viewers to the Konkan coast, introducing us to Ratnagiri, Ganapathy Pulay, and the interesting Malwani cookery. It was truly exciting to watch the strawberry farms in Mahabaleshwar enroute to Panchgani. I too wondered whether the Californian 35 rs. strawberry sapling would grow in warm weather of Kerala. When I went to Munnar a couple of years back, I looked around for strawberry farms, but couldnt locate one, but Iam certain that there are strawberry farms in Munnar. The high altitude and the cold weather would be so conducive for growing strawberries there. So seeing this huge strawberry farm in Lakshmi's travelogue, at Mahabaleshwar was amazing. The baskets of freshly plucked strawberries in the market was absolutely a treat to see. I was telling my husband, we must go to Mahabaleshwar. Ofcourse beside the strawberry farms, Mahabaleshwar is a lovely hill station that is a total delight to any tourist who is contemplating on which place to visit during a vacation.


Another exciting thing was to see a demonstration of authentic Marathi cookery at Amaya restaurant in Bandra east. In Kerala, there are hardly any restaurants that serve Marathi cuisine except for a few snacks like pav bhaji, sev puri, bhel puri and papdi chat. Oh, interestingly, the boli that is served in Trivandrum, at the end of 'sadyas' during marriages or functions, is a famous sweet in Maharashtra also.

SILENCE HAS ITS OWN VOICE

A close friend of mine shared a profound statement in her recent mail ‘Silence has a voice of its own’. This prompted me to write a blog on Silence.
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Yes, silence has a voice of its own. Different kinds of voices…. Silence between two people after an argument or fight can be hurting, each looking forward for the other to end the silence. Silence after a physical, psychological, or emotional violence can be scary and tormenting for the victim as in that silence the victim relives that violence and has hundreds of thoughts that question the higher power and yearn for justice and contemplate on various actions to take.

Silence between two people in love can be divine, as they experience bliss even in the unsaid. Silence exercised by a child who is punished or abused is a period when permanent scars are taking shape, teaching he child the cruelties imposed by adults. Silence between friends or family members separated by distance and work load hardly qualifies for being misunderstood and they begin to accept the reason for silence, mentally looking forward for noise/sounds/words to replace that silence.

In silence, a thousand thoughts can run like wild horses creating noise, raising dust and storm in the mind. Silence, then again, to a loner is ecstasy. He revels in the silent joy of his own company perhaps travelling, reading, contemplating, learning, exploring. Much can be accomplished in silence. In the dark silence of a mother’s womb, a baby grows and she and her husband wait eagerly to see their precious child. During old age, even the most talkative person experiences pain in silence, resulting from loneliness, lack of deserving love and attention from his child.

When we escape from the world of noise, words and actions and look at nature silently, we learn a lot from elements of nature and become aware of its grandeur, ponder in awe of its mysteries, wonder about creation and the creator. For an artist who paints, silence is invigorating as he sits and paints various forms of life real or abstract. For the hearing impaired or the deaf, his whole being experiences this world through silence. In silence, one goes on a world tour through past, present and into the future in the journey of his mind.

In meditation, one can silence the busy mind, vanquishing thoughts, bringing it to a state of calm and tranquility. In silence, men make great decisions. In conflict resolution, silence doesnot mean weakness. It is potent with huge strength of mind. Silence is a spiritual teacher, with a voice of its own.

Global Recession

I recently went to visit Dubai for 3 days and its a beautiful city with breathtaking blend of the east and west. I was told that about 2 lakh Indians from the Emirates (UAE, including Dubai) left behind a lot of their belongings and even expensive cars and returned to India due to losing their jobs. In my one and half months in Kuwait on my recent visit, the recession is what everyone is disturbed by and talking about.

Today's society is a consumer based society where aggressive marketing and advertisements lead consumers to buy more, spend more on truly what they donot really need. To build a financial back up or support to fall back on during crisis like this is a must. Consumers are advised by Financial Analysts to be careful with the spending and to buy or spend on what is only needed .

The current unemployment is at a 25 year high and stocks have plunged 12 year low. If companies focused on job retention, this can mute unemployment growth. Business Analysts are of the hope that economic growth should pick up by 2010 and gradually improve by 2013. U.S. predicts that the economy would recover in five years. Thats a long time for people facing unemployment providing them with hardly any consolation. One can only hope the economic recession would not worsen as people fear a severe deterioration in the labour market.

BEGGAR TALES

BEGGAR TALES

Beggary has been abolished in Kerala or so I believed until I see some beggars bold enough to challenge the law against beggary, loitering in front of temples, road sides, railway station, and even cinema theatres premises are’nt free of them, although the number of beggars seen compared to earlier years have decreased tremendously.

Three years ago, I saw a congregation of beggars in Ochira open temple premises. There were rows and rows of them. As we toured the open temple premises, a beggar lady foretold my mother in law, while she was looking up at a huge tree, that her prayers for her father would be heard and that he would be saved by God from the grave illness he was suffering, much to mine and my mother in law’s shock. I hadn’t known some beggars can be clairvoyant!. My mother in law distributed lots of one rupee coins to lots of beggars. They seemed to be in some sort of trance. They cast a glance at the act of offering and turned their faces away as if lost and disconnected from the very world we are consumed by.

After visiting the beautiful Suchindram temple in 1998, we (my husband, myself, and my two children) got in the taxi we were travelling in at around 7pm. It was quite dark outside. A beggar came and knocked on the window and my husband gave him one rupee. Suddenly, from nowhere, like a swarm of bees, a swarm of beggars crowded around the car banging the car, a gesture conveying an earnest request for money. The vehicle began to shake. The taxi driver, without running into any of the beggars managed to get his car out of the grave situation and sped away. Did he know stunt driving? I never asked!

In 2006, we visited the famed Padmanabapuram Palace. After the visit as we exited, we were greeted by a little beggar girl child. I guessed her age to be five or six. She had brown unkempt hair. One would pay at the beauty parlour a couple of thousand rupees for such a hair colour. It looked more presentably unkempt than a rock star’s hair which he would have paid quite a sum to get the ‘umkempt’ look for a concert. She had a brand new aluminium coated begging bowl which was empty. She thrust the begging bowl in front of me without a sound. I told her, “Little children should not beg.” ‘You should be going to school’. She didn’t respond to my statement. Instead, she appeared determined in her mission. Her mother wearing unwashed torn saree with dishelved hair stood a few metres away observing with a baby in her arms, besides two tiny kids on her either side clutching at her saree. The older daughter chosen to be the bread winner. I placed a rupee in her begging bowl lest she is scolded or beaten for not trying hard enough.

Last week, my friends and I went to Sree threatre in Thampanoor for a movie. As we stood for the ticket counter to open, the crowd began to grow, some standing, some sitting on the steps. Everyone’s attention shifted to a lean tall old man clothes in utter rags, the stentch that emanated from him clung in the air. He had a cloth bag hanging behind him from his right shoulder. He was going from person to person shockingly with a long razor blade used in barber shops for shaving and pointing the razor blade and demanding money, not begging! I was even more shocked to see smiles on people’s faces and each one readily handing over coins. My pupils widened when I saw, the next ritual. He, upon taking the coin from a person, moved the razor blade in a slow motion across the shoulder or face or body of the person he took money from. Where was the security? Well, the security at first tried to usher him away, but upon seeing the razor blade, slowly went inside the theatre and closed the glass door and the ticket counter was yet to open. People could have gathered and rid the beggar from the premises, but nobody seemed to be affected or maybe they were and they turned a blind eye. Finally the razor blade beggar left, sparing a few of us including my friends and me. The ticket counter opened, we bought the tickets and watched yet another Shafi time pass entertainer called ‘Lollipop’.

It was around 3.30pm, outside LIC building Pattom, where a huge amount of children assemble after school to catch buses to go home. ‘Aunty, aunty’…and I turn back. ‘Aunty, could you give me 5 rs?” asks a young healthy school going boy of around 12, from a nearby school of repute. ‘For what?’ I asked. ‘I don’t have money to go home by bus’. ‘Really?”, ‘Yes, I forgot to take money when I left home this money’. Ignoring his plea, I crossed the road, went up to Spencers, just across. While coming out after shopping, I saw the same boy with a few friends eating snacks at the Ambrosia outlet outside Spencers. I was surprised at the skillful art of beggary practiced by a child of middle class affluent!

In place of the Big Bazar in Kesavadapuram, was a non functioning theatre called Kalpana when I relocated to Trivandrum in 2005. Next to that was Ambrosia restaurant, youngsters and working class would frequent as their evening snacks were and are quite irresistible. A young beggar lady in her late teens or early twenties with baby in arms was trying to catch every passerby’s attention and no one seemed to be responding. As I exited from Ambrosia after picking up a few snacks, she caught my attention. ‘Give me money…I have a baby…I haven’t eaten, my baby is sick.’ I told her ‘Why don’t you find some work to do instead of begging on the streets. You look healthy and capable of working.’ To which she said, ‘Yes, I will work, will you give me work?. Can I work in your house?’ ‘I don’t need a maid right now’ I replied. ‘No one will give me work, that’s why I have to beg’, she said. I parted handing over a 20 rupee note and I told her its getting late for a young girl like her to be standing there. ‘I have been through so much, Iam not afraid anymore’, she said.

ELEVATOR TALES

Elevators beside being a mode of transporation from floor to floor in high rise and low rise buildings, one cannot fail but notice a number of funny, interesting and even strange events associated with the elevators.

In the building where I stay, travelling in the elevator floor to floor, blocking the elevator at various floors is a fascinating game for a group of kids when perhaps they are bored of all other games or are in a mood for what seems to them an exciting adventure. Their pleasure trips come to an abrupt end each time an adult would suspect them of misusing the elevator and remind them to play outside the building, much to the caretaker’s relief as he becomes a victim to their merciless teasing to which actually he holds no complaints for he comforts himself that ‘they are children’.

Maid servants who are new to the building contemplate seriously whether to be safe than sorry by taking the good old stairs or take the elevator despite their phobia of the elevator that may take them to unknown floors and their virtual fear of then being lost. ‘I want to go to the 11th floor, could you press the right button for me’. ‘Iam so scared, maybe I should take the stairs…’ they go. Once they know their way about and around, they travel confidently to the respective floor with a special pride on their face to be working for what they believe to be a special or important person in the building. Some of them will have ‘Iam proud and fortunate to be working for Mamooty’ or ‘Maharaja of Travancore’ look on their face.

Then there are faces you will meet in the elevator that makes you absolutely cheerful, a familiar face, a face of a happy-go-lucky neighbour, a friend, a chattering neighbour or even a neighbour with a sweet disposition. A warm smile or a hello or a few pleasantaries can be the birth of a new friendship or make you feel exuberant. Cheerfulness is contagious.

Then you meet certain people in the lift who are amusingly self absorbed in their outer appearance, concentrating on the large mirror in the lift, until he or she reaches his destination, arranging their hair, looking closely at their faces and attire as if they were going for a photo shoot. And you wonder, what exactly is he or she admiring about although it really isn’t anyone’s business.

Some people upon entering the lift are preoccupied with their mobile asif all of a sudden they received a flurry of messages on their mobile, the moment they stepped in.

I cannot help wonder at people who keep grim faced and seem overburdened with life’s problems thus prohibiting them from smiling or interacting. If they can’t manage something as simple and uncomplicated as a smile, how do they manage their life?

One also cannot avoid the hoity-poity or those who imagine to be too elite to smile or talk to those who donot belong in their delusionary circle of the affluent. Perhaps they are unware of the saying ‘Here today, gone tomorrow’ or is it ‘Hair today, gone tomorrow’. Reminds me how I was blessed with thick tresses of healthy hair once upon a time, and now they are gone.

Sometimes you get to share the lift with very rugged looking person(s), who is perhaps not a visitor or relative, tenant or Owner, but could be a labourer or worker, and you are relieved when you reach your floor, only to realize, he is getting off there to join other labourers in some wood work or some repair in a flat next to yours. Then you are totally relieved.

One should be careful while entering the lift, you would enter greeting this known face in the lift, only to be jolted when the lift door bangs into you from either side while the other person looks on perplexed unable to extend a helping hand. ‘Are you alright? you are asked. ‘Iam alright, but not my box of cakes.’

UNCLE MOON

In malayalam, little children are taught to call Moon as 'Ambili Ammavan' which translates as 'Uncle Moon'. There are poems revolving around Uncle Moon in every Indian regional language. In Hindi literature, moon faced or chanda sa mukda or chandini (moonlit), chand (moon) are all terms used to address someone absolutely dear and loving. 'Chand ka tukda' which translates as 'Piece of Moon', is referred to a child by it's mother when the heart is so fondly overflowing with love for the child. As a child I used to read the childrens' magazine Chandamama (Uncle Moon) which is available in so many Indian regional languages. A malayalam version 'Ambili Ammavan' was a favourite among Keralite children. There was children's movie made by the same name by Vinayan in 1984.

Uncle Moon remains in the sky and children make fondest wishes looking at the brighly lit moon. Mothers tell stories of 'Uncle Moon' to the children who eagerly envision those stories with gleaming eyes and all ears. As a child, I too was fascinated by the unreachable moon. My mother told me stories about a real 'Uncle Moon' who was her cousin who loved children and laughed a lot and gave little gifts to the children he favoured most. I must have been around ten when during a vacation in Calicut, I was playing with my cousins and friends one morning, oblivious to the world around me, when my mother excitedly shouted, 'Look who has come to see you' and I wondered who is this person who came as an interruption during the end of my carrom board game and I was supposed to be winning. It was none other than the living legend, 'Uncle Moon'. He had a round face and a bald head and was of a short stature. True to what my mother said, he laughed a lot and obviously was very fond of children. He gave me a bag of goodies and he asked me, 'Do you know who Iam?' and I went, 'Yes, Uncle Moon', to which he roared with laughter quite pleased with my answer. Uncle moon was an Income Tax Officer and was held in high esteem by all. Uncle Moon always wore white clothes only. When I asked him if he didnt like any other colours, he merely laughed at the question. Several visits to his house was filled with a fascinating time. Uncle Moon was an excellent story teller and his stories were laced with humour and he had not only the children but adults spell bound.

Sadly Uncle Moon passed away quite early in life that saddened the whole family for a while. I heard my parents say, 'There is no one so wonderful as uncle moon' and his death was a terrible loss. During my last visit to Calicut, I met Uncle Moon's only son, who was the exact physical replica, with the round face, bald head and quite short. I found myself wondering if he purchased his clothes from the Children's section of Retail shops. I found my friends and cousins laughing as he approached us at a relative's wedding. I wondered why they laughed, but then I realized, my mischivious cousins and friends spared no one when it came to physical attributes, not that they were unaware of their own flaws. I did find Uncle Moon's son quite an amusing character. He wasn't like his father at all. He lacked the charm, the exuberance or the ability to laugh or lead or get a crowd going like Uncle Moon did. Why am I comparing I thought, 'He is just another individual, quite unlike his father'. However, Uncle Moon's son did take up the same profession as his father, he too is now an Income Tax Officer. He introduced me to his rather tall wife who was definitely a couple of inches taller than him and his daughter who towered over him. I wondered whether Uncle Moon's son was just plain serious or was he suffering some depression. Some said, he was queer, some said, he is a funny man, some said he is good at his work. We both talked about his father and I realized, his father whom we fondly called 'Ambili Ammavan' passed away when he was just a school boy.

The Uncle Moon I knew would have been delighted to know that India sent Chandrayaan spacecraft to the moon.

MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Sometimes we mistake a person for someone else. Has it happened? It can be quite embarrasing and humourous as well.

I recently chanced to meet a friend in Calicut, whom I have'nt met in 12 years. However, my friend looks the same, even weighs the same (or so it appears) and smiles the charming same. My friend shook my hand and said, 'It's good to see you after so many years. How are you?' and we exchange endless pleasantaries and my friend enquired, 'So, when did you arrive from Mumbai?' And I was rather suprised. 'Mumbai, no I came from Trivandrum' . With a puzzled look my friend said, 'So, you are not Tanuja?' and I said, No, Iam Aruna'. My other friends were giggling and laughing away. My friend was both shocked and excited to know who I really was. It was a wonderful revelation and reunion. Those were Kodak moments!

I remember when my son was in 5th standard in Kuwait, I took him to a school which was the venue for violin competition in which he was participating and I met this look alike of someone I know very well and walked up to that person and wished her and she wished me back and we were talking about the competiton and we both sensed a bit of wierdness and then she asked me, if she knew me....and thats when it struck me, its a look alike of a person I knew. But we had a nice laugh though.

Once a child came up to me, saying 'Amma' and I turned around and I think I scared the child as it gave out a squeal when she found out, I am a total stranger and not her mother. I felt like giving out a squeal too.

It was 2004. My friend was walking hand in hand with her husband in an exhibition ground amidst a huge crowd. After a while she turned around to talk to her husband and found herself holding on to the hand of a total stranger, in the crowd, to her horror. She left the stranger's hand and practically ran from there, and frantically searched for her husband. He found her first and held her hand to which she jumped thinking it is yet another stranger. She expressed to me how relieved and joyous she was to find her husband. They still hold hands while they walk, but tighter!

Last year when I was travelling by Sri Lankan Airlines from Kuwait to Trivandrum, there was this husband and wife in the next row. The man was delighted with the number of drinks being served and he seemed to be constantly quenching his desire to drink. He finally looked a bit disoriented. He dragged himself to the toilet and as he returned, he sat next to a beautiful, lone lady, 2 seats away from his wife and the lone lady screamed at him in vain, as he had plunged into deep sleep. The stewards shifted him to his rightful seat and as he snored in his sleep, quite oblivious to his actions, his dear wife shifted her hang luggage and sat elsewhere.

I used to teach two boys, who were twins, and by God they were such perfect look alikes. I never knew who was who. They always had to correct me when I addressed their names. Their mother taught me to differentiate them by their character. One was a bit hyper and the other very quiet. The hyper one was talkative and the quiet one would speak far less.

Mistaken identities...can be funny, shocking and sometimes embarrasing.

WEDDING JOURNAL

An invitation to attend the wedding of a close relative in Calicut meant an opportunity of meeting relatives settled in various parts of India and abroad, who came down for the wedding. These are people, whom otherwise I wouldnt be able to see, besides the huge number of relatives from my maternal side. Weddings always promise a memorable and exciting time, besides sumptuous vast array of food two days prior to wedding, the wedding and for coming few days as well. For weight watchers, the temptation would find them succumbing and throwing away all the self restraint and the underweight will begin to look quite healthy. Perhaps its the loving, humour filled and enjoyable company of friends and relatives that ignites the joy and endless happiness, a chapter in one's life so unforgettable and unknowingly one consumes more food in good company.

As the Air India flight landed in Calicut and I disembarked, I couldnt wait to meet everyone. It was soul touching to meet every uncle and aunt, cousins and friends. Uncles and aunts have aged, but not in spirits. Their sense of humour has never died. They are in their hearts exactly as how I remember them as a child, full of love and hospitality. For a week, it was like a vacation for me, where I had so many people doting and doing things for me, labour of love!. I was introduced to some relatives I have never met and the bond was formed immediately. It was suprising to know a favourite female cousin of mine was married to a person from my father's Tharavad.

The wedding went beautifully and I was busy all the time. The bride and the groom looked resplendant. Its a most memorable and important event in a person's life, when he/she gets married. The bride and groom , techies employed in Technopark looked their very best. I didnt know how the bride managed the weight of a heavy brocade saree, vast amount of gold on neck, hands, hair. I never quite understood the need for our kerala brides to adorn so much gold.

One of the most memorable experience was catching up with old friends and cousins, an unforgettable reunion. As kids we used to run around in Grandmother's vast premises, play badminton, climb walls and trees, share secrets, squabble and make up, play carroms, sing hindi and malayalam songs, draw and paint. Now all of them are married with grown children. Yet we go back into time and behave like children in each other's company, which we perhaps never do with anyone else we meet later in life. Childhood friends and cousins are special and will always will be.

I spent a memorable time with my brother and his family. I felt proud to have an absolutely talented little 4 year old nephew who can sing a variety of malayalam songs. Iam a fan of children who love to sing, dance, draw, paint...any form of art. He sang a number of songs for me and the little boy is endowed with a beautiful voice, a gift he got from my brother and father, the gift of singing. My uncles reminded me of how my father used to have singing sessions with musician Babu Raj whenever my father came down on vacation during his Army days as they were good friends. A Mohammed Rafi song rendering from my brother took me back into time, when my father used to sing for pleasure and enthrall friends and family. I especially used to enjoy his Mohammed Rafi songs and other ghazal renditions.

I was fortunate to spend such wonderful time with my favourite uncle from Ireland and his Irish wife. She enjoyed the wedding so much and revelled in a pink saree and moved around in utter comfort to my surprise. I made a new friend, a Konkani lady , close friend of the groom's father my grand uncle. She looks asif she has walked right out of a Raja Ravi Varma painting. The konkani lady had lost her only daughter who had some genetic growth defect and was bedridden from birth till age of 9. I feel touched as she showed me pictures of her child. A miracle that replaced her child is a young man, her nephew, whom she adopted as he was given to her to overcome her pain of loss of her child, by her cousin brother. Her nephew calls her 'Maaji' and that makes her a proud and fulfilled mother. He visits his biological parents once a year and lives with this lady and her husband.

With sufficient memories and experiences to write a book...I returned to Trivandrum and as the Kingfisher flight took off from Calicut - Karipur airport, I felt a strange void leaving the land where my parents and their ancestors hailed from. As much as I enjoyed the wedding, I had enjoyed being with all the wonderful people I hold close to heart. The void faded as soon as I saw my son waiting for me at the airport with a warm smile.

DEEPAWALI - FROM DARKNESS INTO LIGHT

Deepawali or Diwali is the time children wait for to burst fire crackers. Parents will have to think of heavy excuses if they feel their childrens' demands would burn a hole in their pocket. But children have their way and parents too have a great deal of fun particpating in bursting crackers. Although a bit wary of fire crackers, I do enjoy seeing children bursting fire crackers, and love to see the rockets that go up and burst into a myriad of colours in the sky.

In Kuwait, a huge amount of Indian children and parents (irrespective of religion) gather on Diwali nights in various open grounds (basically used for playing football) infront of their residences to light fire crackers imported from India which were available in all Indian shops during Diwali. My daughter's and son's friends use to bring a plastic bag full of various kinds of crackers and gather in our house in Kuwait for a lovely Diwali party with sweets, snacks and games followed by a grand celebration outside the home on the open grounds, lights, sound, action et al. My children's excitement knew no bounds when they got to select and buy different fire crackers, few days prior to Diwali.

Secretly I always felt lighting crackers equivalent to lighting up and burning money. Fire crackers are expensive and ofcourse exhorbitantly overpriced when imported. The money spent on crackers could be put to better use and that way even help prevent dangers associated with lighting crackers. Two years ago, my son burnt his left palm trying to light a faulty or damaged cracker. That was scary, but luckily his palm healed. We get to read all sorts of stories post Diwali in the papers where people are admitted in Medical College Trivandrum with bad burns handling crackers. Yet the whole affair of crackers and fireworks bring about a lot of enjoyment and sometimes safety is overlooked.

But it was'nt so, two years ago, when a mere spectator like me, during Diwali cracker bursting sessions, decided to light a rocket that would travel a bit high and I would'nt really know where it would land actually. The one I lit landed in a poor elderly lady's compound close to her coconut tree and the lady comes out in the middle of the night and shouts in the alley asking if I want to burn down her coconut tree and her house. That was the first and last time I lit a cracker. Last year, my children and I had fun watching others light crackers. We hadn't forgotten the poor lady from the thatched roof house. Strangely she invited me for her son's wedding and requested me to teach her grandchild English language!

Do we tell stories to our children related to Diwali? Perhaps a lot of them learn at school and through Amar Chitra Katha comics. But what is the significance...? Its believed Diwali is celebrated to mark Lord Ram and Sita's return to Ayodhya after 14 years in exile and his victorious battle with Ravana in Sri Lanka. Another story revolves around Lord Krishna having killed demon Narakasura. In Jainism, its celebrated as the Nirvana of Lord Mahavira. Sikhs observe Diwali as the day their sixth guru Hargobindji was released from prison and he then went to the Golden temple and was greeted with lighted lamps. Associated with Diwali are celebrations such as Dhanteras, Lakshmi Pooja and Bhai Dhooj.

Hindus light lamps inside and outside their homes in the evenings on Diwali. But why? Just as the sun rises in the morning and casts its light and brightness all around, lighting of bulb and lamps dispels darkness. Deepa means lamp and avali means row- Row of lamps. By illuminating our homes and hearts by lighting lamps, we are symbollically dispelling the darkness of our hearts and minds, fighting our own shortcomings and negative qualities, signifying victory over our minds that are clouded by ego and ignorance. 'Tamaso ma jyothir gamaya' (from darkness into light!). The lighting of lamps is supposed to empower us to commit ourselves to good deeds.

28th October, Two weeks left for Diwali....While I am already thinking of Diwali sweets, fire cracker vendors with 'special' prices for Diwali 2008, would be excitedly dreaming of loads of customers.

IS IT SO HARD TO BE KIND?

We all seek our fortune with great hope and weave dreams in the course. We meet all sorts of people and experience a myriad of situations comprising of favourable and unfavourable circumstances, joy and pain, success and failure, yet the human psyche relentlessly pursues his dream. In this pursuit of seeking our fortune, does one chose to trample on people or respect and remember those who help us, do we shower kindness and treat people with dignity...or are we driven to ill treat helpless people inorder to feel powerful and in control?

A good friend of mine, a very learned person, gave a lot of charity and was spiritually inclined. In fact she shared within our big group of lady friends, a lot of stories that had a great moral message. Some of those stories I still narrate to children and friends. I admired her spirit, her confidence and courage and in her company, I learnt a lot. She had only one drawback. Her temper. Her temper knew no bounds. She got irritated at the slightest. Her knowledge and efficiency and position in society made her extremely proud. I felt disturbed and saddened at the way she treated people who worked under her. She ran an extremely successful business. I sadly witnessed some of her staff cry. Although the tears appeared as colourless water, it carried in essence, extreme pain and sorrow. Her staff wished she would treat them fair and well, but to no avail. But all they got was verbal abuses and emotional taunting and their agony kept increasing.

I realised my friend was a very unhappy and discontented lady with huge emotional problems, who found some pleasure and self contentment when she humiliated, taunted and verbally abused and scared her staff. At the same time, I was baffled, how she would treat the poor people on one hand and how she would hold prayer meetings, spiritual discussions, give away charity on the other and go visit distant seeking Almighty's blessings. Slowly, her business fell, her staff left her, and she left Kuwait. Just before she left, a huge calamity struck her and her world fell apart.

I was so glad when I slowly weaned myself away from the friendship I shared with her as I didnot feel comfortable or right being the friend of someone who subjugated poor people to utter misery. If I continued, it meant I sanction what is wrong. Importance of treating people as human beings first, irrespective of which strata of society they come from, I pass that on to my children.

Its more easy to be kind than mean and what you can accomplish by that has no boundaries. This reminds me of a saying, 'My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.' - The Dalai Lama