Did I forget to count my blessings?

These spectacles suck.  My nose bridge where this pair of glasses sits has developed tiny dents just like the soft potholes on a newly constructed road.  To avoid further damage, these dents now get double dosage of moisturizer and two drops of imported olive oil daily but I know these stubborn marks won’t go away and will worsen with time.  A well wisher suggests light weight rim less frame or better still contact lenses. Wow, every problem has a solution!

‘Only far sighted people can wear contacts. You require only reading glasses,’ informed Dr Pallavi. Surgery is another option but that is expensive and no surgery is 100% safe. What if!! Thoughts of what if linger on in my mind and I give up the idea of an avoidable surgery.  That implies I will have to wear these thick horrible looking glasses all my life to even read the headlines. The day is not far off when like my 75 years old dad, I will be carrying two pairs of specks, one for reading the seat numbers on the ticket and one for watching the movie. Oh God, these specks make me look so old and it is so cumbersome to wear and remove them every two minutes. Reading is so much enjoyable if the glasses don’t come in between. 

Leaving my train of thoughts behind, I remove my glasses and rush to the meeting room. I have an appointment with one Mr Balaji, a gentleman in mid thirties who wants to meet me regarding financial assistance for his trust. When I enter the room Mr Balaji is already waiting for me. He rises from his chair to greet me when he hears the click clack sound of my heels.  ‘Good afternoon Madam,’ he says cheerfully with his hands folded in polite namaste. I plank myself on the chair opposite him and he starts off about the activities of his trust and how he wants to help other people. The office boy enters and keeps the coffee in front of him. Mr Balaji is so engrossed; he does not notice the coffee. After some time, my colleague takes Mr Balaji’s hand to the edge of the cup to indicate that it is time for him to finish his coffee and end the meeting.  All along Balaji looks in my direction but fails to notice the olive green color of my sari.  In between he turns his head to address others in the room; he brings his attention back to my face when the tiny bells on my earnings in the matching shade make a tinkling sound when I shake my head in affirmation or negation.  I keep the necessary documents in front of him to have a look. As an afterthought I take back the documents and read them aloud; Balaji could not read what I had kept in front of him. He was blind.

Balaji was not born blind. Glaucoma was detected when he was six years old.  Not the type to be dissuaded by such handicaps, he did his education till PhD and now he has formed a trust to help visually challenged people.  He uses public transport to commute. ‘The bus stop is 400 metres from my office,’ I had mentioned while explaining to him the directions. ‘Don’t worry, I always find my way out,’ he had replied politely. 

As I come back to my desk after requesting one of my colleagues to accompany Balaji to the bus stop, I make an attempt to visualize the daily routine of Balaji, his daily struggle for things which we take for granted.  I try to but I fail.  After a few thoughts, I give up. I pick up my glasses to look at my screen. 

Homage to Mahatma Gandhi

Today 64th martyrdom day of Mahatma Gandhi’s is being observed in our country. A number of functions and prayers mark this day where distinguished personalities and spiritual leaders emphasis on imbibing the values taught by the father of the nation. All the halal shops are ordered to be closed because Gandhiji believed in non violence. On this day, do not kill the hens which lay golden eggs. Martyrdom Day was also observed in all schools today.

Nestled amongst tall Eucalyptus  trees,  the children of this school  like their counterparts in other schools were asked to maintain silence for one minute with their heads bent down as a mark of respect towards the messiah of peace. ‘Observe silence to pray for the soul of Gandhiji. Observe silence in respect of Gandhi so that we imbibe the values of non violence for which he gave up his life,’ the principal had repeated thrice in the morning assembly. The bell rang at sharp 11. The children and the students got up from their seats. Those who were already standing froze in their places like statues. One 10^th grade child had just stepped out of the classroom to walk towards the rest room when the clock struck 11 indicating observance of silence by all true countrymen.  All the children in the play ground stood still with glum expressions, annoyed for obstructing their game. This mischievous boy was a man in hurry. Not paying heed to the shrill noise of bugle he went about jumping here and there. As he walked, he tried to jump higher in his futile attempt to reach for the roof of the corridor oblivious to the fact that PT teacher’s spy eye was watching him.

At the end of one minute when the silence stopped and children were allowed to come back to normal, PT teacher pounced on the boy and whipped him with the long thin tail of the whistle. The louder the child wailed, the harder were the thrashings. Other children watched and looked at the PT teacher with a gratitude for sparing them. What waste if these big boys can’t stand still just for a minute and that too in respect towards the father of our nation whose values the schools are trying to instil in them. If they don’t understand now, these children will never learn when they grow up and the teachings of Gandhiji will remain mere teachings in the text books.  

Violence in the name of imbibing non violence!  Haven’t we heard actions speak louder than words?

What would have Gandhiji done to discipline this child?  

Overtly Sentimental Indians

Salman Rushdie cannot come to India because twenty years ago he wrote something against certain Gods.  It’s different that most of these self appointed guardians of God  haven’t read the book and those who had the patience to read  545  page volume need to be applauded for their endurance first .  These people are very angry with Salman ( I mean Salman Rushdie and not our Sallu). They won’t allow him to enter mere desh ki dharti even if he says sorry.  What is done can’t be undone.  We Indians never forget and forgive, and we are overly sentimental and intolerant when anyone says anything bad against our Gods. Ours is a secular and tolerant society, we can tolerate anything but when someone speaks against our religion, our language, our caste, our God or our state then our blood boils.

I tried reading the book twice but could not read beyond chapter 2 but forget about me; I am not the intellectual type. Let’s not digress from the focal point of this piece.

We ban movies because some scenes and dialogues in the movie hurt our sentiments.  We Indians are very sentimental you see!  MF Hussain was forced to die in exile because he painted Gods’ pictures and some people didn’t like what he painted.  We can ban books, issue fatwa against whoever we want , burn effigies, destroy anything and everything we can lay our hands on when we are angry and our government allows us to do it because ours is a true democracy… the largest democracy in the world.  Article 19 -1 –a of the constitution gives us complete freedom of expression. Complete freedom you see … simply express madi !  It’s our right to express anger, disapproval, and disagreement and how we express, that is also our choice. 

We also don’t shy away from showing our displeasure when outsiders want to settle down in our state or don’t speak our language, at least that they can do it.  Why can’t they go back to the state of their forefathers and live and die there as if anyone cares.  Article 19-1-e gives all Indians the freedom to reside and settle in any part of the territory of India but we don’t care because we have the privilege to express our displeasure the way we want to, how we want to and when I want to ; after all we live in a free democratic society.

Since Satanic Verses is in news again. I will make another attempt to read it. I hope this time I can go beyond Chapter 3. 

On Turning 18

Turning eighteen comes with its own anxieties and stresses.  There is a constant pressure from friends and family to look and behave your age.  Eighteen is considered the age when one is supposed to turn into a responsible individual overnight. This is the age when one needs to start thinking about the future... blah blah. ‘Society expects certain decorum from you.   The family looks upon you.’   

Well, I am referring to the pressures and anxieties on the mother of an eighteen years old son!

Nikhil turned 18 yesterday. I am worried … because

·         I won’t get to drive my car.

·         I will have to get used to listening to dialogues like ‘I am 18, I know what is right for me.’

·       I will have to shell out a greater part of my salary towards  his pocket money because ‘No girl friends’ rule does not apply after 18

Birthday celebrations were a subdued lot to ensure Nikhil does well in board (read life).

A close friend called yesterday to wish, ‘It does not look that you are mother of an 18 years old!’  Not sure if this was a compliment or advice.