Care for the World

There is so much of noise at Capenhapen, where the world leaders have assembled to take stock of saving the world; suddenly there is a great concern shown by all nations to salvage the earth before it perishes, and there is a tendency to start the age-old blame game, and very few honest nations daring to own up their own responsibility for making the world what it is today. In fact, the common persons on the road are quite oblivious about what is happening to the world; as one walks on the main roads of the city, one can come across men and women huddled together, burning old and worn-out tyres and enjoying the warmth they give, without realizing the harm it creates to them. Climate change, unfortunately, is not the concern of the most citizens of the world.

There are different theories which define the future of the earth, if conscientious effort is not made to salvage the earth from destruction. There are also a group of skeptics who believe that the harm created to the earth is irrevocable, and whatever we do may not much change the situation; if we make a conscientious effort, probably we may prevent further damage taking place, but that may not make the situation better for tomorrow. But there are also people on the other side of the camp, who claim that if the whole world make a concerted effort, we may be able to create a better climate, not only geological, but also psychological. And the very fact that most of the nations had come together to take cognizance of the situation is clear sign that it is the major responsibility owned by all.

The Indian prime minister Manmohan Singh had made an impressive and meaningful declaration of what the nation is going to do in black and white to make things better. Towards the end of his appeal to the world community, one like stuck me: the most affected by the climatic changes are the least responsible for them. India, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka had been facing the major backlashes of climatic changes, and it is beyond all doubt that the people who have misused the earth’s resources and morally polluted the earth, wish to hide themselves under the carpet. The hundreds of men and women who slowly lose their fields, homes due to rise in sea water, cyclonic waves creating havoc in coastal areas, tsunami’s threatening to wipe away human race from coastal regions… the South Asia has been a major victim, and the nations who are responsible feel it is not entirely their business to do something about it.

It is alright for the nations to thrash the things over the table, but it is time for each one in the world to ask himself/herself : what can I do, on my personal capacity, to help shape a better world for tomorrow? Our tomorrow depends on our today, and until every person is involved in this global mission, after about 20 years, we may not be there to discuss the issue, nor find more than half the human population. Probably the slogan that should go rounds today in all our social gatherings is : ACT NOW! We do not need to do great things to make the world a better place for our posterity; small things matter, and we do not need to wait for someone to start the ball rolling. We could start here and now.

What am I doing today which may help ‘heal the world, make it a better place’, to borrow a phrase from that famous song! The emission level is said to be increasing at alarming speed, and I make it a point to walk as much as possible, instead of adding to the carbon di oxide emission. Being conscious of energy consumption is another area, where I keep my eyes and ears open. If I can walk the stairs, I do not require to use the elevator; most often people have the wrong notion that if there are things, they should be used. The tragedy is that we often do not inform people about these things; I have hardly seen any of our coworkers walking the stairs; even the sweeper and newspaper man would automatically go in to take the lift. I wish all families and institutions make it a point to abstain from the use of electricity or motor vehicles periordically, and teach children to do the same. These are some of the things that all of us can do easily.

Divine Hospitality

I believe in the beautiful little Sanskrit sloka, which says, athito devo bhava, i.e. guests are like gods, and as and when possible try to show that in action. To make the strangers comfortable in our company is no mean feat; especially when the resources to really provide for the guests are limited, to cheer them up despite the scarcity is an art in itself; after all, what a stranger would expect in a new place is not the comfort of a cozy room, a royal banquet and men and women standing to serve them, but the comfort of a home away from home. Probably that is the real test of hospitality – when the stranger is able to feel at home, take liberty to stretch out and enjoy a cup of coffee or tea, and relax! Another allied test which I feel is equally important is, if the guest is able to sleep well! If someone is going to have nightmares in the middle of the night, probably there might have been amiss in the hospitality.

There are men and women when placed as hosts may go out of their way to make their guests comfortable; we also come across people who would keep a little distance, showing the guest room and getting rid of you with an artificial smile, and a formal “Good night”. One of the truths in the art of hospitality is that the sense of feeling comfortable does not remain with the material arrangements or the ambience which is created by the accessories, but in the human hearts which glow with warmth and genuine interest in the other. Just the presence of some people is enough to put us in a cozy ambience that we may not require anything else.

One of the first lessons of the art of hospitality is the ability to take time off from one’s preoccupations, some of which may be urgent and unavoidable, in order to spend some quality time with the guest who might land up unannounced, and at an odd hour, which may not be suitable to our convenience. The time I am able to give for the unannounced guest is the sign that I care for him/her and value the person as s/he is. If I am not able to give even a little bit of my time for the guest, who might have sought hospitality with me, then the person would think twice before seeking hospitality the next time. However the person who is able to leave all personal preoccupations aside in order to BE with the guests gains more virtues for all generations.

Over the years, I have come across hosts of all sorts, some would keep the dividing line between host and guest markedly clear, and would not dare make the other person feel at home, and there had been others who would pamper you with so much of attention and care that you might feel that it is done in excess. But there is nothing called excess in hospitality, except in the case where one wants to just show off s/he is the best host in the whole world. The people in the villages are experts in the art of extending hospitality to friends and foes; their treatment of guests may not vary greatly to friends and strangers, which would show that humanity has not become insane yet.

Another aspect of the art of hospitality is the warmth with which we invite people to share our lives, not the extraordinary situations, but the daily meals, recreation, study or a quiet evening. If there are some who feel drawn to come to me, to spend some quiet moments, not so much to seek my good counsel or to advise me on an issue or problem, but just to be what s/he is, then I should feel proud to be a welcome host. If about half the humanity still believes in tit-for-tat, then I can expect the same kind of treatment I give to my guests as host from others. Ultimately if I can find a chord which vibrates with the other – the host and the guest – lifting their voices in unison, then we can say that the guests have soared to the heights of gods!

Pleasing Pleasantries

As we grow in age and wisdom, one of the most difficult truths for us to digest is that we are expected to dance according to the tunes of others; that ‘others’ may include anyone significant or insignificant, and they stand and stare at us at every unexpected corner of our life, and it is they who make our life quite miserable, if not unbearable. The funny side of this ‘drama’ is that we are expected to change our masks according to the kind of persons who expect and demand from us a particular kind of response, or a ‘performance’ to continue the analogy. Half our lives are spent changing the masks, coloring the glasses, and learning steps to please everyone around us. In the bargain, we fail to live life as it comes to us with a thousand hues and fragrance. When we realize what life is, it might be too late.

I don’t know from where we learn to cultivate the art of ‘pleasing’ everyone who matters in our society. As we join the primary school at the age of five, we begin to learn the rudiments of this art; when the teacher keeps an eye, we behave well, and as soon as the teacher moves to the other side, we begin to show our true color. So we learn to smile when the teacher turns to us, and frown at her back. We do the same at home too; and slowly we begin to say what pleases others. But you may ask me, is it wrong to please others? Of course, no. Sometimes it is possible our natural behavior or response may delight others, and that is a great gift. But if we begin to make people happy, going out of our way, bending our natural inborn qualities, that needs to be questioned.

But the paradox of the drama is that often we communicate to the people just the opposite message than the one we wish them to have about us. When a young lady refuses to meet a man she likes and loves at the railway station, as she embarks on a journey, just because she is afraid someone might catch her with the man, and spread rumors about her personality and character, that only shows that she is obsessed with her good name! But what is this ‘good name’ imply? The very people who may praise her for her serious dealings with men, will also soon accuse her for being so cold and indifferent towards human relationships. Ultimately we all need to learn the lesson that we cannot dance to the tune of others for too long.

While trying to please others, we may lose our peace and sanity, and live in a fool’s paradise, thinking that others have such a noble opinion about us; but the opinions of the people about me can change within moments. After all, how long can we live our lives for others? When we are confronted with the bitter reality, that all our efforts to please others is in vain, then we may begin to live our lives fully and wholly, irrespective of what others think and say about us. That is when we may have the real satisfaction of savoring life in its natural form. It is then that we may be able to see the blue sky and be absorbed by it; we may listen to the song of the bird and forget the worldly worries, the scent of the commonplace flower may take us to another world, far beyond human imagination.

The sooner we realize the need to stop playing to the tune of others, the better it is for us, to really appreciate what life can offer to us. Millions of people who lived lives for others for several decades had not achieved anything more than an animal; such a life is not worth living. The moment I begin to live my life irrespective of others, my friends, relatives, my associates, I own my life as it unfolds before me, and there cannot be anyone coming between me and my life. It is between me and my life; it is very personal and sacred; I cannot allow anyone, however close they may be, to come between me and my life. It is then that I can drown all the masks I had been making all my years, and face life and reality with my naked eye, and present to the world my naked body, as I entered into the world.

Seeking Self

I am selfish, and let me not pretend that I am selfless, because it would not take more than a minute of dealing with me to realize how selfish I am, and I do not feel bad about it at all. In fact, this is one thing which is so very common to all of human race, big and small, young and old, men and women. Maybe selfishness is the trademark of humanity, and if you don’t believe in it, all that you need to do is to put the person in a situation where there is a need to struggle for survival. To fulfill one’s personal need is the primary concern of every person; the safeguard and protect one’s body, mind, spirit, and the security of one’s future, all form part of that search for one’s survival in the midst of decay and death, and how can I be exempted from this rule of life?

It may sound non-sense, but one has to constantly defend one’s position, even to the extent of justifying one’s wrongdoings and crimes, in order to strengthen his/her own survival. There are not too many takers for the new law of die-to-live rule of Jesus, and even most of his disciples may think twice to apply this golden rule to their personal lives. But that is how the world operates, and all those who would stand against the world may have to feel the wrath of untimely death or prolonged agony. But if that be the case, am I not constantly fighting with the world to protect my own skin, even if I had exhibited my meanness and hardcore selfishness through daily actions? To acknowledge one’s defeat and mistakes is sure to cast a shadow on every tomorrow, and affect my future days.

True awakening can take place in me only when I begin to become conscious of the rottenness that I have landed myself into, and feel an urgent necessity to get out of the rut. Until I get the stench filling my entire body and mind, I may not feel the necessity to own up what I truly am. In such a situation, I may not like anyone else to remind me what kind of person I am; in fact, when someone else might try to instruct me who I truly am, my spontaneous reaction may be to protect myself in public, even if I am ready to acknowledge my commissions and omissions in private. Transformation can take place only when the awakened mind can vouch to turn a new leaf.

But the world is blessed with more than its own share of people who are professional “naggers”, who can quicken the untimely death of normal, sane people, and such a kind of people are not easy to live with. We also come across people who can play the role of catalysts to quicken the process of awakening and the subsequent transformation, and the voice of such people can hardly be heard, because in their case, more than their lips, their hearts speak louder, and they can effect change in others through their very presence, and may not require to go after people to mend their ways. This only requires that the people who struggle to come to terms with their own ugly selves (in fact, all sane men and women go through this process at some time or other) should have enough time to go through the process.

Behind the virtue of patience with the people who struggle to turn a new leaf, is the greater virtue of compassion; it is this virtue which makes one to look at one’s own image in the other person, as if the other person becomes a mirror to become conscious of one’s own shortcomings. Compassion can smash the hardest hearts, melt the strongest metals, and there is nothing that cannot bend its brow before genuine act of compassion. It is a Godly gift, which cannot be bought or sold, but it has to germinate in our hearts, grow to maturity, and when it is in full bloom, there will be several birds of the air coming to take shelter in its shade! That may be a moment of celebration, when all can rejoice forgetting the narrow selfish boundaries, each one crisscrossing with the personal boundaries of others. That is indeed a moment to celebrate!

Calling convictions to account

I don't really know what had gone wrong with me that there had been a tenor of anger in me for the past few days; I seemed to get angry with anyone for no specific reason. It is not that I was not aware of what had been going on within me for the past few days, but it is not all that easy to put my finger into the exact reason. It is true there had been some of my very close friends who seemed to be rubbing me at the wrong side; the very people whom I thought would stand by me when I am down, turned out to be part of my problem. Just as I raised my voice when we spoke, they wondered what made me to behave in an unusual way (when have I behaved in an usual way? they sometimes ask me)!

One thing for sure, I cannot go on like this for long; I may have to either stop behaving this way, or I may find myself in an asylum (I should be lucky not be chained!). My problem (when no one is there to own up this problem, it is proper that I own this up), if I can recollect well, has its origin when I began to question the convictions of one of my friends. Probably I was trying to touch the very nerve center of my friend, and therefore there was an explosion; it is possible that the explosion did not take place externally, but I felt it deep within me, and I was not prepared for it.

Convictions are the most precious thing I treasure deep within my heart, and very seldom would I dare to compromise with them, for whatever reason, though in the recent years I have become a bit more sober and compromising with them. But still, I feel that the convictions which I had been grooming all these years are my riches, and it is painful when someone questions me about them. But that is precisely what I was placing my fingers, when I questioned my friend about one of her convictions. Maybe I could not accept her conviction as one which I can easily agree to, and so I had to draw myself from the entire scene. That is where it all began.

I tried to show the anger I had on her to others, and at the end of the day, I felt that I had not spared anyone, and many of them were quite innocent. When I do not expect anyone to question my convictions, I found it hard to do the same with others. Is it a sign of my superiority feeling or that I cannot accept others too having convictions, grown out of life's sweet and sour moments. Over the years I have also learned good many lessons, which made me reconsider some of the convictions, which I could not give up under any circumstances. Ultimately, I realize, what is more important is not that I hold the convictions as the Gospel truth, but that I have become a truly human person!

It is hard for me to accept the kind of conviction she holds on to, and I am not going to give it up for my sake either; but one thing is for sure, I am not going to question it. It is the fruit of her life's experiences and it is for her to question them, and it is not my business to do that. I will have to grow in the humility which may remind me that I cannot make others to dance according to my tunes. I may not have the guts to acknowledge what has happened to me actually, but one thing for sure, next time when I hear someone expressing his/her conviction, I will think twice before questioning or refuting them!

The Pavement-Dweller

Every time I cross Allen Park, on my way to St Xavier's College, I cannot miss this young girl sitting on the pavement, sometimes begging, sometimes just sitting and whiling away her time. It is about three months since she is seen around Allen Park; she has as her possession, a worn out polythene bag, containing God knows what. Sometimes I had seen her walking with this bag in hand. I had also seen her merrily singing a song (probably in Hindi), and one tends to think she is out of her head, or else which young girl on earth would dare to live alone on a busy city street. I don't know how she manages to eat her meals and spend her night. Malnutrition had made her but a set of bones and skeleton. But her life too goes on.

She does not seem to disturb anyone, nor demand money from those busy men and women who walk the path incessantly, from morning till night. No one may come to know what made her to resort to Camac Street, one of the busiest city streets, with highlevel business centers, and connecting to the most important street of the city, the Park Street (aka Mother Teresa Sarani)! I dare not think of spending even a single night on a street alone; you cannot be sure what could happen to you - the flesh-monging men prawling around the city at night, the bribe-monging police men on their patrol, the beggars and drug-peddlers seeking some dark corners to experiment with syringes and alumnium foil...

But she does not seem to be bothered about any of these; as I walk past her at about 6 O'clock in the morning, I can see her going to occupy her own place on the pavement. Does she believe in the providence of God, who knows how to feed the birds of the air and clothe the lillies of the field? I feel guilty looking at her, and quite many times, before reaching the place where she sits, I cross to the other side of the road and feel happy I don't need to see the pitiful sight she lives in. But deep within I know something keeps pricking me! These days when it is quite cold at night and early in the morning, these girl is seen with hardly any warm clothes.

My educated and religiously oriented mind begins to question the designs of God - how can God be so cruel to let this girl, who cannot be more than 20 years old, seek asylum on a busy street, with no one to care for her! How can the world be so indifferent and hostile towards her? We all of us want to close our eyes from seeing the bitter reality, which is one of the fruits of human greed and self-centeredness. can we really blame God for what we have made to the world? One of the most horrifying sights in the recent days was, when I could notice her drying her only set of clothes after washing, and herself sitting on the floor with a cloth around her waist, and another cloth on her shoulders! This is reality, and she does not seem to blame anyone for this!

I am not sure if I ever will be able to reach out to her in any way, and assure her that the world cares for her, and that I too am responsible for her plight; I may not have the guts to do anything for her, nor do I really have any "connections" to get her a fair deal from the world and humanity. But my insensitivity and that of those living such cosy and comfortable life cannot close our eyes from the stark reality taking shape each morning and evening. I only know that if not today or tomorrow, at least one day before I reach the grave I may have the guts to reach out to a person struggling with life, and give my hand!

Return to Nature

Technology of medicine has improved so much today that it is very difficult to find a 'normal' person. Even the people who go to the doctor, come home with a host of ailments, which they had never thought of! What is so tragic is that being so very healthy and normal is also considered a major ailment, if not wholly physical, but psychological. There are tests for every imaginable thing, and it is so very easy for the doctors to prescribe half a dozen tests, in order to decipher what could have gone wrong; but gone are the days when the physicians would hold the hand of the patients and would be able to diagnose the disease. But that age seems to have gone.

Unfortunately health care has become a thriving business, where every vulnerable person is a serious casualty; the innocent and illiterate are the most vulnerable groups, who could be taken for a royal ride for the greedy physicians. It is no wonder that many senior people do not like to visit physicians, because of the fear that they would find some ailment or other, and prescribe tests and medicine, which may run into a thousand rupees. I wonder what sort of medicine my grand parents resorted to, and they all lived happily without running to the physicicans to extend their life span.

My maternal grand mother lived beyond 80 years, and I was not sure if she suffered from any major sickness; she never went to get her eyes checked, though after she reached the age of 70, her eye sight weakened, and still she was happy with the poor eye sight, and died so. But today we are forced to make regular medical checkups with physicians from a relatively young age. I tend to believe that this is an epoch of ailments, and according to medical fraternity, there is not a single normal person, and they are included in the list. But the way health care technology is forging ahead that it is bound to wreck the weak and the otherwise healthy.

I had been having slight pain on my left shoulder for quite sometime now, and when I consulted an orthopaedic, he asked me to take an X-ray of the shoulder, and do two blood tests, including one on the sugar. He said that he would be able to decipher what could be the possible problem with my shoulder, only after seeing the X-ray and the blood reports. The consultation fees (rupees 300 for about 5 minutes), and the other tests have cost a lot, and when I go to him again to show the reports, he would again charge me for consultation. I wonder what a poor man or woman would do in such a situation? How many people in today's world can afford such a kind of treatment?

Country medicine is an art which is neglected and forgotten; herbal medicine has long been considered a superstition, and physicians with high-flown degrees do not consider the herbal medicine as a healthy and positive practice. But it is time that we go back to our traditional medical practices; we need to get our grand parents who knew how to find an affordable and even free of cost medicare facilities, which can keep us hale and hearty for many years. There is nothing missing in nature's bounty, which cannot bring healing to any kind of disease or ailment, even if it is the worst kind of diseases the humanity has encountered. All that we need to do is to return to nature, and she will not let us down, for sure!

Mini-Miracles

I had not been a firm believer in miracles, until recently! Perhaps the last two words might have made you think what could have changed my mind! Of late, I had been encountering small miracles, for which I have no explanation. I cannot claim that these miracles had a spectacular effect on me, or the people around me, but they have in one sense changed the way I look at myself, the reality around me, the human society with whom I constantly rub shoulders, and the power beyond me! What happens quite frequently these days may be termed by a skeptic as ‘pleasant surprises’, but for me they are mini-miracles, which point me to a power beyond human reach, and yet so close to us!

Maybe it would be clearer if I narrate what happened this evening. I had a wrist watch (a Japan made, Casio brand), which is available on the footpaths of the city for rupees 60. But the one I have, has a story: When I was asked to carry a camera bag to India from Rome in Italy, as I checked the contents in the bag, I found the watch sans strap. It looked good to me, and so after reaching home, I got it repaired, got a strap, paying the amount for which I could have bought a new one; but I knew it was used by one of the Jesuit companions many years ago, and I was privileged to wear it now.

Coming back to the original story, the connecting pin of the watch had fallen, and I had to get a new hook. Some days ago, the hook had fallen in the house, and so I could not use it for about two weeks. I had taken the watch to get a hook fixed on it to one of the shops. The shop keeper, after fixing a hook, asked me where the supporting ring was, and I told him that might have fallen. He looked for a similar black color ring, but he could not find one. After about ten minutes of searching for it, he gave up hope and told me to look for it somewhere else. As I left the shop towards home, something in me said that probably that supportive ring should be in the house, maybe in my room. This was not a fleeting feeling, but it was almost a surety. I was almost sure that it was there at home, maybe in my bag!

After reaching home, I went to my room, poured out the contents of my ‘reporting bag’ (as one of my friends had named it), and initially I could not find what I was looking for. When there were only the coins left, I found in their midst the black supportive ring, and what a surprise it was for me to find it back! I had not placed it in the bag, and it is possible that when the connective hook of the strap was lost, the ring might have come out of the strap and remained there. But to get it back after about a month, was not a simple thing. It was a miracle to find such a tiny thing, in the midst of so many big things.

Today one thing became clear for me: there are so many miracles taking place in and around me all the time, but most of the time I am not aware of them, and am not conscious of them. If only I take note of them, then they are sure to affect me, and even change me. Caught between worldly worries and preoccupations, I have failed look around me with eyes wide open; I hear the innumerable noises around me, but fail to listen to the song of the birds, the rumbling of trees, the whistling of the wind… What better grace can I ask of the Almighty today than asking him to open my eyes and ears wide open to take note of the miracles happening each moment of my life, and that they may draw me closer to the Supreme power beyond.

Called to be truly human

Sitting with over sixty men and women in a conference room in St Xavier's College, Kolkata to re-dedicate to the ideals shown and lived by a late Jesuit priest of Belgian origin, gave me a very different kind of feeling; it is hard for me to really identify the feeling, because it always seemed somewhat elusive. A kind of disturbance or inner agitation, or peace and serenity - to put it bluntly it was a bag full of mixed feelings. That is what this great man - Gerard Beckers, who gained a shorter name from his friends and admirers, Babu, really was! He was not an easy man to live with, but the number of men and women who had assembled three years after his death, on his very death anniversary, bore witness to the fact that it was his "difficult" nature, which had left an indelible mark in them, and they are all grateful for that.

I don't know why, but I was not fascinated by Babu during his life-time, but while attending his funeral at the college ground, and later on interacting with the people who had been changed due to him, I felt guilty for not knowing this great soul; I had my own prejudices, many of them even negative! But it had taken me quite a while to realize that often I look at people what they look like, rather than what they really are. Unfortunately the real Babu had always eluded me, even as we had casual talk now and then, and today while listening to the people who had been touched by him, I feel guilty for not knowing him.

If so many men and women had been touched by this man, I was asking myself, why did I not make an attempt to know him? It is possible that I was looking at Babu, and every man and woman who was worth his/her salt, with my own colored glasses, and began to sit in seats of judgement without taking the trouble to know them. If there are not many people who have had great impact on me, it is because I have not allowed others to shake me, knock me, and even toss me! I had been protecting myself too strongly from the influence of others, that I remained just what I was many years ago, and that is something I regret today.

Every tree is shaped by the wind and rain, and it is the strong cyclonic winds and stormy nights which strengthen the trees, and these are the real moments of testing; but I had often refused to undergo these ordeals, keeping myself free from any external influence. If only there are people who could challenge my own narrow-mindedness and even take me to task, I might be quite different today. But as I stand at the mid-point of life, there is a growing fear in me that I am too old to learn any new tricks, and so let my old self live as long as it can, and die a peaceful death! But what would that mean to the world?

Today I would like to resurrect Babu to rise up and challenge me, challenge my mediocrity, half-heartedness, the cozy world that I had woven around me, the company of men and women who have power, security and strength to fight all odds in life! I would like to see Babu taking my hand across a stony and thorny path, barefooted, to let the thorns of the wayside poke me, and make me feel the pain and agony which has become part of reality in the lives of millions of men and women around me. I wish Babu can make me a human, with flesh and blood that are alive to human cry for help! I wish one day I become truly human!

Haven of Peace

We are so used to a certain kind of mathematics, that when some one comes with a solution which is quite out of the blue, then all our calculations are disturbed. We live in a world, where the senior citizens find very little place; the married children try to build their own families, and may not want their parents to have a role in it. The in-laws may stand against anything the well-intentioned parents might say, and ultimately in order to let peace prevail, the aged parents may be forced to remain in seclusion, away from their children and their grand children. This is the reality we are used.

But the modern generation has also found a way out of this problem, of handling unmanageable old people. Homes for the aged is an institution today by itself; those men and women who could afford may make arrangements with a Home to keep their parents away. Everything here is taken care of, and there will not be any more nagging or uninvited intrusion into the private and personal matters of the families. Even when the old men and women may not wish to go to homes, situations may force them to seek asylum there.

Think of old men and women who have been thrown out of their own homes, and have no where to go! Think of persons who have no strong social security systems, which may take care of them when they are old! Luckily we have a group of women, in fact they are all religious sisters, who look after the elderly, and care for them specially. The beauty of these sisters is that they do not admit into their homes anyone who has enough money to find a way. Their doors are open only to the senior citizens who are helpless, have no one to care for, and therefore there is no monthly fees.

In today's world, it would cost at least rupees five thousand a month to look after a senior person, including the daily medicine they may have to take. This however may not include payments for a separate person (aaya), to keep a watchful eye of them. But then how do these sisters manage to look after the old? Through begging! Every day some sisters are appointed (often by rotation) to go begging from house to house, in order to feed the elderly. In a world which condescends begging, these women are not shy of begging for the sake of the elderly. And what is more surprising, there are more people who offer monetary support to the sisters to look after the old men and women.

What do the Sisters, who are known as Little Sisters of the Poor, gain in return for their services to the elderly? Nothing. In fact, their services cannot be adequately compensated by any means, because even their own children may not look after the old as well as these committed sisters. Then why should they do this kind of works? It is their charism, to reach out to the helpless poor old men and women; if they don't look after the old, then what would happen to the hundreds of such men and women. Thank God for them, today many of the helpless men and women find shelter and peace of mind in these havens of peace!

Re-writing Destiny

A popular Tamil proverb says that marriages are determined in heaven, and often we come across cases of marriage which are strange and even hard to believe. And such is the marriage of this young man, with two legs thin as sticks (due to polio), and this beautiful young lady. It is a marriage between weakness and strength, weakness of the young man whose movement is highly restricted due to his legs, and strength of the lady, who gave up her family and all ties in order to stand by him, after a courtship of seven long years. But at the time of marriage, there were very few to bless them, save a Jesuit priest who stood by the couple and gave them all the much needed support, and a few other close friends. But there was something unusual in the marriage.

Maybe unusual is not the right word, a better word might be extra-ordinary. What made the 'black beauty' to stick to the young man, knowing well that her life too would be in a way restricted (imagine the restrictions to her freedom of movement); often in public gatherings it might become a bit embarassing to introduce a crippled as one's husband, however well educated he might be, and however loving he could be. To go out of the social conditionings and limitations, is in a true sense a heroic value. For the young man, this is the best he could get from life, and for the lady, this is the best she could ever offer to someone in life.

We cannot avoid the scorn of the family members and the neighbors, who might smell something out of the marriage, that the girl might be evil-intentioned, or the couple had a hidden agenda in getting married, despite the opposition by both the families! But nothing could stop them from being united in marriage, and the presence of just a handful of men and women to stand by them at the moment of their self-offering to each other was enough for them to put the right foot forward, as another Tamil proverb might have it. They have no regrets, no demands from anyone on earth. They do not mind starting life anew, from the scratch. There is a special joy in exploring life as it unfolds every moment, and every day.

But what could we say about the families of the couple, who initially oppposed the marriage, but later became indifferent. The girl's family could not believe that she would do such a stupid thing to marry a physically challenged person, and they might even thought that it was a shameful thing for her to do that, and they would have thought it better to keep themselves away from what she was doing; they could not accept her determination, it came as a big blow to them. But then what about the boy's family: instead of welcoming the lady to their household, they only keep her away from them, because there was a unseen factor dividing the families : caste, the most poisonous demon causing havoc in most of the families in the South.

There is no greater assurance in such difficult moments than divine providence, and hope in life as it takes charge of the new family that is formed in marriage. Life has the potentiality to transform hearts, and melt stones. It might take sometime for life to reveal magical moments, where reality would be so very different from what people thought it to be. Where hearts reach out to the core of their inner selves, there no caste, no family feuds, economical factors, or even physical beauty can stand. Truly from this day, the young man has better sticks to lean on - his wife, and with her by his side, he can face any stromy night, scorching sun and torrential rain!

The Forced Farewell

My friend was almost in tears, when she saw the middleaged man in tears. It is not common to come across a middleaged man shedding bitter tears. He was shedding tears thinking of the plight of his daughter. She, the girl in her twenties, cared very little for the emotional outburst of her father, who but had to struggle from morning till evening to make both ends meet. But she cared less for the father, who could not even afford to provide two square meals for his family members. The plight of poverty-stricken family had found a safe haven for the daughter in a secure convent walls, hoping they may see their daughter have atleast three meals a day, and a worry-free life.

But the dreams of the parents were shortlived, when the young girl decided to quit the secure life, just because she found the "correction" of the sisters too harsh. She might have had an ego, that was too bloated, and she could not think of anyone correcting her. She would do what she wanted, and everyone will have to accept it as coming from God almighty. She found these corrections excruciatingly painful, and her pain was perhaps more than the pain of her hungry father, who was proud to think that her daughter was in a town, growing up speaking English. If he too was as adamant and unrelenting as his daughter, life would have been quite different for this girl.

Life for a young girl in this world is not a bed of roses, or a smooth sail; it has its own share of toils and troubles, especially if a girl is not brought up in a conventional mould. The dropouts and distracted will have to find ways to kill not only their time, but also people with whom they can build a world of their dreams. But who is there to help this girl to start life anew, with renewed vigor and strength? Surely not her father, who is too tired of life already in his forties. His pleading with his daughter could not soften the heart of the girl, and she was leaving pastures green, in search of dry deserts, to find an oasis!

The playful heart of this girl has not taught her a lesson, that the world is not as friendly and warm as it always looks; she had taught the mirages as real, and when she is thirsty and rushes towards the mirages in order to quench her thirst, that would be the moment of self-realization, and that would be the moment she may remember what her father meant for her; what it means to be under the safe and secure care of someone you can trust. When buffeted by the never-ending currents of life, she might look for a breathing space, where she may find someone to wipe her tears. It may be too late before she finds herself in such a situation.

No one on earth has the audacity to decide the fate of another human person; not even God has the power to do that. Each one decides his/her own fate, and that would determine what we make life of. One may tell me that the fruit of a particular tree is bitter or sour, but if I am determined to taste it for myself, who can help me? But unfortunately, in life there may not be second chances, and there may not be avenues to take a U-turn. But she will find her way one day, and remember with gratitude those men and women who had corrected her to mend her ways, for it is only by pruning can a tree reach its full maturity!

Groping in the Dark

It was a festival of lights, and there were non-stop bursting of crackers all around, and the fireworks filled the firmament; the capital did not mind flushing out millions of rupees in order to keep the children feel the festival of lights in their ones. After all, they all said in unison, the people who make crackers and fireworks, need to make a living out of them, and they could afford to burst even after midnight. But from the window of the room where I had taken asylum for four days, I could see the bursts of a different type. And the noise of these ‘crackers’ was far more violent and louder than the ones which filled the already polluted sky.

These are the people who had no place of their own in this metropolis; the citizens of the mega city had a place for every conceivable amusement and enjoyment, but for the people who had been pushed outside the limits of human society, there is no place, where they could sleep in peace. They had managed to squeeze themselves in between two buildings, touching the wall of the building I stayed in. If there was a strong wind, then they may not find the roof of their hutments, and all they had would he gone within no time. Every moment for them is uncertain, but still life was going on. These are the people who burst their voices in the middle of the night, mingling their voices with those of the lifeless crackers.

The protagonist naturally was under the influence of alcohol, one day when the men make the best excuse to drink to their heart’s content, and the women who knew the logic of the men, would not force the bottles away. The young man did not bother to mind his language, it was as crude as he could be. There was another to counter his claims, and the counter claims of the friend were equally loud. It was not clear what they were shouting at, but one thing was sure, these people had no crackers or fireworks to amuse themselves with. Who knows if these people were bursting their empty stomachs, as they went to bed yet another night!

Then all of a sudden, out of the blue came a series of crackers bursting, almost for about a minute, and one of the my friends later said that they were sure to have burst about five thousand rupees worth crackers. Momentary happiness was what kept the people from the high society to flush their “hard” earned money. If all the money that had been spent on crackers and fireworks on the day of Diwali in the capital were to be augmented, it would have been enough to feed all those who were going hungry to bed from at least five states of the sub-continent.

Where can one find true happiness in a celebration as the festival of lights? Is it in the bursting of crackers and displaying the colorful array of fireworks, each one competing with others, or is it in something else! One thing for sure, more and more environmental conscious activists have recommended foregoing the bursting of crackers and amusements with fireworks, which can choke the already polluted air of the capital. I only wish if the nation as a whole decides to forego the colossal waste of crackers and fireworks, and instead find other positive ways of lighting up the lives of others! I wish all those who wanted to celebrate Diwali in a meaningful way could light up diya in the houses of the people who have nothing to eat, and share a meal and joy with them! If that is done, then it might not take too long to brighten up the whole nation.

Marichjhanpi

Probably I will never forget this name, and there are still more than a thousand men and women who too will never forget this name. The massacre of hundreds of men and women of this lonely island in the Sundarbans in 1979 may not find much mention in the history book of West Bengal, but if we go slow going through the history of Bengal in that year, we may be shocked to know that the voiceless men and women who could be dispensed just because they received the patronage of an opposition party, which was not in power. Police joined the vile tactics of a political leader who has his name in the Guinness Book of records as the longest surviving chief minister in the world. Did the people deserve such a gruesome treatment just because they were refugees?

What can power do to a person is so very conspicuous in the story of Marichjhanpi; human beings are pawns who can be bought and sold, made use of to reach one’s selfish gains. If this game on the lives of people were to continue, there may be hardly enough people to inhabit this world. What the guru had done about 30 years ago, that is what precisely his faithful disciple tried to do in Singur, Nandigram. But if the chief minister was an opportunist, who wanted to remain in the seats of power at the expense of the people, the opposition leader was no different; with her sentimentality going beyond all reasonable limits, she too was trying to sell the sweats and blood of the peasants to get into ministerial berth in Delhi.

The world we live in today seems to be so corrupt that no one can be easily spared; each one of the leaders we have today have a dream which is sure to put the lives of the speechless, voiceless and sightless people into danger. The leaders of today have no hearts; all they have in front of their eyes is power, prestige, and wealth. They would do anything in order to get their dreams fulfilled. It may be hard to find a leader who is prepared to shed his/her sweat, leave alone the blood, for the sake of the people they work for. In that case, I take my hats off for such people’s leader as Medha Patkar, who may sit in hot sun with voiceless people, to stand by the peasants and farmers.

One great consolation in the whole process is that there had been some leaders at the ground, who were prepared to face gun firing, lathi charge, teargas in order to get justice done to the people. They may not have succeeded in reaching their dreams; they may still have lots of grudge against the political systems of today and yesteryears, but one thing is true, their indomitable hope and trust had probably given the much needed stamina for people to face all opposition. These men and women are like stars who brighten up our lives, and thank God there are still men and women of such stature, and it is their sweat and blood which is the vital link between life in its fullness and our lives.

The dark pages of history cannot be easily burnt and be forgotten; they will have to be embraced with all their sweat and blood; it may be too hard for the people who had gone through those bone-chilling days and incidents, and still we have no option. We may only wish that history does not repeat in the case of our future generations. We need to open the dark chapters of each of our histories, full of tear and blood, and relive our past, because out of these pages may emerge phoenix, with new vigor and energy, and that may be enough to change the world. We each one then will have a greater responsibility to fulfill.

The Twelfth Hour Virgins

There are some people who cannot foresee things, and would love to keep things pending until the last hour, and when the hour has come, they get so worried that they either get stomach ache [a psychosomatic disease], or head ache [result of tension in the body and mind], and so would have to be relieved. Yesterday when one of my friends told me that she was wanted to help out a companion of hers to organize the inauguration of a new Formation House, and today my friend said that there were far too many things left undone, kept for the last hour. If my friend had not gone to help her companion, then probably many of the important works would have remained undone. We cannot blame the people who cannot plan out things well ahead of time, and execute them one by one; they may have their own limitations, but we also need to look at the other side of the spectrum.

It may sound judgmental if I were to say that if people who keep important things for the last hour are perpetual procrastinators, a definite sign of disorder in their personal life. This may also imply a tendency to distrust companions and co-staff, to delegate the works that need to be accomplished. Ultimately such people may find enough and more excuses to say why they were not able to complete some of the important works on time, one of the most common and vital is what is known in psychology as the ‘blame game’. They may blame everyone on earth, not sparing even God and nature, the wind and rain.

There is another group of people who prefer to give their best shot when they are kept under pressure. If they are given a month to complete a particular job, probably they may not be able to do it, or their output may not be as satisfactory as when they are given just three days to complete the work. How and why this happens is simple psychology: when they are given a month to complete a job, their energy is diffused and so is also their attention and concentration. When they have just three days to finish the job, then their energy is concentrated on the job, and thus they are able to do a better job. I find myself under this category, and that is not to say that I can work only under such pressure. There are certain jobs which may require on-going monitoring and supervision, which cannot be asked to be done within a few days.

Those who wait for the last minute to get things done, can be very well compared to the five foolish virgins, who had taken their lamps but not the oil, and they realize this only when the hour has come. This parable of Jesus has a lot to teach us. If we had to complete a work or two, because of sheer ignorance or circumstances, it is understandable, and at such circumstances people may not find excuses to justify their failure to do the job. Whatever be the logic or rationale that the people who keep things for the last hour give, we cannot forget the fact that the order and discipline that people have in their personal lives is reflected in their social and community life.

It is said that one of the main reasons for people to keep things pending until the eleventh hour is because they starting addressing a particular task or work from ground zero, and what may bring out better result is when they begin to start from the final result and start working from the end backward. That is what is so very obvious in God’s creation of the world and the history/mystery of salvation. Keeping the end in mind always [and keeping a visual representation of the end in some form or other at a place where the eyes will fall on several times a day, such as in front of the study table or beside the bed,] can be highly rewarding. That may also give the person satisfaction that the end is slowly taking shape, and that itself maybe enough reason for him/her to hasten the completion of the work.

Living by Gods

The story of Avinash Nayak is quite unique. He is only 12, but he knows how to make a living. He is making a living in the name of gods. He can be spotted at one or another street corner in Kolkata’s busy street. To tools of his business, if we may call it so, are tiny pieces of chalk and charcoal, with which he draws the pictures of religious leaders and symbols. He has more than enough number of people to admire his art, as he makes for his ‘canvas’ one or other busy street corner, where more number of people pass by. And anyone who may pass by his ‘masterpieces’ is sure to stop for a while to take a glimpse of the combination of gods and religious symbols he draws so meticulously on the floor.

But Avinash is only 12, and he does not hesitate to declare that he had never been to school. However on the top of his drawing he does write artistically ‘God Jesus, Help me’. One may wonder if the boy understands what he writes. Most probably he does not know the meaning of these words; who knows he may not even be aware that he is invoking the name of a ‘Son of God’, or God Jesus, who came to proclaim good news to the poor. It does not require any proof to know that Avinash is poor, and very poor, given that he wears only a dirty vest and short pants, and does not care to keep his hair neat and tidy. Since he lives in a slum with his parents, he cannot be any better, one might think.

There is something strange about Avinash, who does not smile, and his face is as serious as that of any angry young man. Even when he speaks to anyone who might ask him his name and whereabouts, he answers them without even looking at their face. There is an unknown fear, preventing him to look at the face of the people standing around his art work with much enthusiasm and wonder, and seems to show himself as a typical business man, who is only interested in completing his drawing, so that that might bring him more money, through the generosity of the bystanders.

Whom do we blame for the plight of this lad? His parents, who make use of this ‘child’ [according to Unesco, anyone who is below the age of 13 is considered a child], and force him to earn a living to support the family. It is true, the father of Avinash, who also does drawings on street corners of Kolkata might not earn as much as his son, given the fact that there would be more people who would willingly donate a few rupees to a child-artist than a middle-aged man. But in the meantime, one may justly ask, who is to be blamed for this situation. We do not know if Avinash likes this way of earning a living; and even if he likes it, is this justifiable to force him to work at the age, he should be attending classes in a school? You ask him, why he did not attend schooling, he is mum!

Often in life, we are left with no alternatives; we may have only one way, with all the other paths closed. Even if one desires dearly, there might be no way. Should God be so cruel with Avinash, that his childhood is robbed from him, and he is lifted away from a normal childhood, which is life-promoting and in conformity with human dignity. Or is the fate of Avinash human made, the handiwork of a handful of selfish, money-minded, greedy people? It may be hard for us to know who actually is to be blamed, but we cannot shirk away our responsibility. Even if there is one child on earth who is deprived of its childhood, the whole humanity can be held responsible for it, and no one, however holy and pious, can ever be left out!
Kolkata Airport

Pat on the Back

While discussing with friends about one of my very senior friends (a 75 year old nun, who became very affectionate towards me over the past year), one of the common comments I hear is that she was in need of a pat on her back every now and then. She needed exclusive care from the other nuns, who lived with her; she would be delighted if the Superior of the house were to visit her a couple of times during the day and enquired about her health. She felt sick when the other sisters did not seem to take special note of her! That is the reason why, when I visited her during my monthly visits to the Sisters, she was more than joyous, to get the much needed attention, and she was very different during the few hours I spent with the sisters.

But she is not the only one we can blame for seeking this kind of exclusive attention of the dear ones. As we grow old, we in fact return to our childhood days, and we behave exactly like children do. It is a proven fact that children look forward to the exclusive care and attention of their parents, or relatives or even siblings. When they do not get it, then they do all pranks to get the much needed attention. All of us go through this stage at sometime or other! Sometimes when this psychological need becomes compulsive that we feel life so meaningless and dry without the attention of others, then every hour may turn out to be a hell.

Today while talking to a neighborhood bishop, I heard a similar story about a middle-aged priest, who began to find a hundred and one mistakes to blame the bishop, until he was given an office which is respectable, and now he is more than normal; he does not find fault with the bishop anymore and has even begun to find some good things to appreciate the bishop for. But once these people become addicted to the pat on the back, they may not do anything, until they get the pat! It is an addiction, just like addiction to smoking, or alcohol, or any kind of compulsive behavior. One may do this even without being conscious of it.

Many of us stop growing, when we are halted by such things as this compulsive behavior to get recognition from those who matter in our circles. This happens largely because we have not adequately recognized ourselves, what we are, what we are capable of, what we have achieved through sheer personal charisma. If I look for recognition from outside, that only implies that I had not boosted my self-image and worth, by asserting my strengths. When I feel the need to get recognition from others, I may as well ask, what has stopped me from giving a pat on my back, all by myself?

It maybe time that I begin to look for recognition from outsiders, but start giving a pat by myself. All that you need to do is to put both the hands across the shoulder and gently pat the shoulder. Use any sweet sounding words to accompany this action.Those who are tied down by recognition from others, may stop living, when others begin to show their attention to someone else, or something else. When I recognize myself, I begin to recognize the Inner Self which is dwelling deep within me, and that is my God, that is my true Being, that is Brahman, that is the Spirit! When I recognize myself, I recognize God, and the world then may look so very different in my eyes!

Riddles of Life

The faces of Payel and Megha are still fresh in my mind, so also their young mother Mohua! There is a stamp of sadness on their faces, even as they recall the one who is languishing in Presidency Central Correctional Home. Megha is 8 and Payel is 6, and yet they miss their father. Circumstances had forced their father to murder a partner in his petty business, and today he is a lifer, and has already completed four years, and if he is good in the correctional home, he may see the light of day after about 10 years, but there is no guarantee that he would walk scot free if his character is not up to the mark!

But I shudder to think of these two kids growing up without the loving care of the father; they meet him behind bars once a while, but that is not enough for them to feel that they have someone they can lean on to meet their needs. They seem to chase clouds, and the moment they think that everything will be fine, they realize that they are caught by unknown fears! How can life be so cruel in the case of some hapless victims of circumstances! I do not much worry about the punishment that their father needs to accept, but the plight of these two kids and the young lady, who has to live each day of her life, hoping that one day her husband would return home and everything may be fine!

With none to support her materially and financially, save her father, Mohua's life is a big question mark; thanks to the Apostolic Carmel sisters, who support the education of Payel and Mohua through their Back Home project, but then what about their two meals a day, and their clothes, medical bills. The two girls have a whole life before them, and after a couple of years, they might think life is too cruel for them to go through and may look for avenues to ease the burden of their mother. Will they follow the footsteps of their father, while attempting to face the harsh realities of life? Time will tell us about it.

The elder daughter Megha is aware that her father may not return home, and her consoling words to her father, when she meets him at the correctional home is this : Do take care of yourself, and dont worry about us! She does not expect her father to return home, and deep down there is an unknown pain in this little heart. Even when she tries to smile, some where in the corner of her lips, she betrays that pain. Can anyone on earth fulfill the void that had been created by the "loss" of her father? The dark episodes of her childhood may mar her entire future, and that maybe a sad thing.

Is there God, and if he is there, then why should this happen to me, I can hear 32-year old Mohua murmuring, and no one can give her an acceptable answer. She would be forever grateful to God, even if part of her dreams of a happy family is redeemed by the return of her husband, but that can only be a wish fulfillment. If there is a simple support system to stand by the two girls and their mother, then there are chances that they will be able to face the many scorching summer and torrential rains and nail-biting winters. There they might find consolation that not all is lost!

Lively Answers

When friends meet after ages, one question which they ask each other is this: where have you been all these years? Whatever be, there cannot be a satisfactory answer to this question from anyone. All the answers may only sound as nothing more than a matter of fact! Now, let me turn this question to myself. More than a month since I visited the blogger, and a few friends of mine enquired some days ago, what had happened to the blog! Had I forsaken it altogether? I knew that any answer to these volley of questions was not going to really address the question. In fact, I have come to understand the different levels of questions and answers. Not all questions require answer; literature calls them rhetoric questions. I may smartly pass off some of the vital questions as truly rhetoric questions, while frantically trying to run away from addressing real questions.

Questions are generally asked in order to elicit an answer; but there are other kinds of questions, which carry a cart-load of pre-suppositions and pre-judgements. Anyone is wary of these kinds of annoying questions, which may sometimes cross the boundaries of decency and decorum. One of the best and most difficult answers to such questions, I have learned from life is silence. Are there more questions, then the better way to face them is through more and prolonged silence. And there can be no better way to retaliate to the questioner's mean and narrowmindedness than by keeping mum!

But am I going to exercise that way of answering the question, where I had disappeared for more than a month, since I last visited the blogger! Nope! There are answers which are implied in the questions, and even when one does not speak out the answer, the questioner is sure to get the answer by looking at the face, or the body language. But lucky that I am hiding myself behind the screen of this laptop, and those who would toss questions to me are not here to observe my face to get a clue to the answer. But the fact is that feastive moments are not the kind of time that should be spent behind the lifeless screens of the laptop or the desktop. There has been so much of life around me, and it would have been a sad sight were I to sit down in my room to "imagine" what was happening outside.

The feastive season is not yet over, and the air is still mingled with magical fragrance; the tiny flowers of the bokul on the road have spread a carpet, and their fragrance have added to the drunken state of the early winter. The fragrance was lively, and it appeared to me that she was frantically looking for her lost lover in the alleys and bylanes of the city. The early morning wearing a chill weather, forcing the lazy babes sleeping long to pull the sheets over their bodies! There was life outside, and there it is still. How can one leave behind life to go after the lifeless notions!

I wish I was able to take home a handful of the fragrant bokul flowers, and fill my room with its fragrance; but when the fragrance of the bokul flowers mingled with the morning air, was nothing less than bloodymary! I was out all these days searching, finding and treasuring life - life in a thousand forms and shapes, and it was a joyful experience to life spreading her wings and fly in the limitless blue sky, all in a wonderful array! When one is guided by the spirits of life, then one becomes out of control, and everything then becomes a journey in faith! That is where one can find the true self of one's being, whose other name is but God!

Once upon a time

Story-telling is an art, and not all are capable of telling a story, be it real or fiction, in an engaging way. Nor is it easy for one to learn this art; but lucky is the one who can tell a story meaningfully and engage a person or persons. This art can be likened to that of painting; here one is required to pain with words, the seemingly lifeless words becoming alive with the feelings, sentiments, breath of life blown into them by the narrator. Once the canvass is full of color, one may not even see a picture, but an array of color so soothing that the viewer may even forget the central object of the art work! Such is the work of art that story-telling involves one into! And fortunately this has been one of the favorites of our foreparents, and I was fortunate to listen to at least a handful of stories from my grandmothers, and some of them are still ringing in my ears.

But why have I landed into the art of story-telling? This is one art I love a lot; I like to tell stories, both borrowed and creation of my mind. Sometimes these stories pop up in my mind when I least expect them; when I find myself helpless, a dose of story is enough to change the situation. But some of the great masters I have come across in life have had a million stories up their sleeves, and they have left behind a rich repertois of stories that I find myself so small in front of them. To enjoy a story is also part of the art of story-telling; here one tells the story to oneself, translating the words on a page into living words.

There is nothing called good and bad stories, and I wonder if there are first class stories and third class stories; they all depend on how they are expressed. But when a story-idea is ripe, it may be capable of enthralling the reader and the narrator beyond all expectation. I have developed a way of measuring the influence of a story in me, by observing deep within how long the story has stayed in my mind. If I wake up the following morning and still realize that I remember the story, then I can tell that it has the potential to touch others too.

But I cannot forget the one man in history, who can be considered an ace story-teller, and many of his stories have become the skeleton of many blockbusters in the Hollyhood. Jesus the Nazarene. His stories touched the core of one’s heart, and they still disturb many men and women in our societies; and such are the stories which I would like to go back again and again to draw strength and sustenance from. Another man who loved to tell stories is Anthony de Mello, and his books are full of stories, some of which are too profound for me to digest.

There are a few stories, which have become part of my psyche, and whenever I think of them (and a couple of them were told by my grandmother), something in me stands up; there are stories which were related to our social status, and it is possible they may die with me. But there is a desire deep within me to fill my world with stories that not only entertain, but also take the listeners to their inner selves, where they can meet their true selves, without the need to put on a mask or hide the ugly part of their selves. That is the tip of the iceberg of my mission.

Great Expectations

No, I am not talking about Charles Dickenson's novel of the same name; that was a classic on its own merit, what I am going to discuss today is about our small and great expectations we have for ourselves and from others. We may take a closer look at how the so-called perfectionists operate and face life and its expectations. If there are people who take life too seriously, it is this group of people. For them, there is nothing on earth, which is trivial or funny; they would like to look at everything seriously. And at the end they make life itself a serious affair, which has to be faced and tackled rather than be enjoyed and relished.

It is true that these people want to make the best use of life on earth, and would go all the way to make hay while the sun shines. They will not leave any stone unturned in order to achieve the goal they have set for themselves. No wonder then that these people are often successful people, but unfortunately not happy people. There is something amiss in the way they look at life. While they strive heart and soul to achieve a goal, they do not realize that the reaching of the goal does not satisfy them. There is an insatiable desire in these people to excel, cross all barriers and shine in the sky. But is life only a pack of successes and nothing more? Is life that is not enjoyed and relished worth its name?

The so-called perfectionists also suffer from the malady of scrupulosity and guilt-feeling; they cannot easily forgive themselves for the opportunities missed; they begin to blame themselves for missing the point while shooting at the goal they have set for themselves. Ultimately these people may also suffer from certain amount of disappointment and depression, because they may not all the time be able to achieve the goals, and these may drown them in gloom and sadness. They may also push themselves to such an extent in achieving the goals, that they may suffer mental and physical collapse, and sometimes the damage created may take too long to heal.

If their personal lives suffer a lot because of the ideals they set for themselves, the same thing is also true when they are in a group. These are the people in a group, who have the fire to go ahead, despite all odds and blocks; they can give lead to the group, even when unasked for. But often they would lay so much of expectations on the group, that they would soon lose the confidence of the group and may fight a losing battle with the rest. They get easily annoyed with the rest of the group for not coming up to their expectations, for not giving their best to attain the goals. They get easily annoyed and irritated, and may even pick quarrels with others. At the end they may find themselves standing alone, and the group standing some where far off!

Is there any way how the perfectionists can tame their temperament to get the best out of life both individually and in a group. First of all, it would be worthwhile for them to ask themselves if the expectations they have for selves and others are reasonable, and if it is achievable. They can shun anything which is far fetched, or beyond the capacity of the group they are working with. And sometimes it would be worthwhile for them to drop their ideal goals and follow the moderate goals set by the group, and be happy with it. In fact, the focus they need to pay attention to, should be the process and not the goal itself. How they relate to others can give a sense of worth rather than blindly reaching the goal!

Flash of Lightning

I didn't know it would happen so soon. It took hardly two hours for my friend who had "doubted" my openness and transparency to return with a 'sorry'. One might think that only proves that I am partly innocent of what she was 'accusing' me of, but in reality it brought to fore something else too. Over the years I had known that my friend was quite frank and open, and does not keeping anything to her heart. She confided with me that she did not think that she would talk about these things, and it somehow popped out of her lips. And she was not even fully aware of what she was talking about!

She was profusely sorry for what she had told me, though quite inadvertently! She told me that if only she had known this would be the consequences of speaking her mind, she would have kept her mouth shut! I realized that at the end she was more disturbed and shattered than I was. Over the phone, I could hear her sob, and I really don't know how many times she said sorry! I was not in need of her sorry, she knew that, because in close relationships these things do happen, and one need not wait for the other person to ask pardon; certain things are not to be taken to heart, and I did not take too seriously what she had told me.

But she could not believe that she dared to disturb my mind at a time when I wanted to have some quiet moment. This time I had to give her assurance that all would be fine after a few hours. After all, the mind needs some time to let things cool down, and at least partially erase some of the painful memories. Given her nature, she would mull over this issue the whole of night, and today I can almost be sure she would say she did not have good sleep, because she was haunted by the painful memories of yesterday. Just as I needed sometime, she also would require some time to assure herself that we are not fully in control over ourselves all the time.

I would not be too quick to brand this entire episode as a typical commonplace 'misunderstanding'! No, I would look at it as a lightning moment, which is powerful and help both of us take a second look at each other as to what our expectations about the other are, and if we are able to fulfill them or not. In a lasting relationship, such moments as this can open up either the Pandora's box, or the dirt under the carpet; in either case, it is sure to have an impact on the future course of the relationship, and I often look at these seemingly painful moments, as part of the growth process. It is time for pruning, and the process is painful for sure!

I know that what had come out of the lips of my friend, even without her knowing it, cannot be sidelined as unjust allegation; no person with a little love for me can ever do that! The lightning flash has shown me a dark corner of her heart, and it is for me to ponder over this, and dispel the darkness! It may take me months or years to do this, or it may continue to remain in her heart for ages, despite my many attempts at working on it. Or there may be another lightning flash which may dispel that darkness and make us see each other as we truly are, and not as the one's with an inaccessible secret corner in the heart!

Transposing Transparency

I got a shock of my life, when she told me that I was not transparent enough to her, that I was not sharing with her about my 'friends'. After months, I got this severe jolt, and I was not prepared for it. My friend had a doubt, and she wanted me to clarify it, and I found myself in a helpless situation how to explain to her, or prove to her that I am quite open and transparent to her and that I had nothing more than what I had been telling her all these days and months. But still she felt that I was hiding something from her. There are certain things in life, which cannot be expressed in words, and today I felt strongly that I ran short of words!

Human life is a web of relations, one linked to another. Sometimes the web is shattered by reasons beyond one's control, and certain contacts fall instantly, and some others get strengthened. The ones with very little significance cannot bear the jerk, and fall off even before the jolt; the ones which have stuck to the heart are prepared to bear any amount of jolt and may only feel that their grip has been strengthened. We live in a world where we cannot live with exclusive relationships; even in marital relationships, there is scope to have friends, well-wishers, relatives, and that is the web of friends and neighbors who would come to one's aid, when s/he is in trouble.

When I tell someone that I do not believe in exclusive relationships, she often misunderstands me, and I had enough of trouble because of this conviction of mine. There are very few people who really see my point : I was touched by this wise saying of Tony De Mello: my happiness does not depend on anyone else other than myself. I decide if I want to be happy or not; no one will have the right over me, concerning my happiness. In an exclusive relationship, I expect that my happiness would depend on my partner, and vice versa. If something were to happen to my partner, then my happiness is doomed. Should I allow this kind of predicament to me?

All human relations are woven on the basis of mutual trust; when doubt surfaces in the mind of any one of the partners, then the relationship is bound to break into pieces. It is not that doubts do not rise in the mind of partners, but they will have to be clarified, and sorted out as soon as possible, or else the doubts will eat up the relationship, and too soon it will be in tatters. But what I can I really do when such a doubt rises in the mind of my partner/friend; what can I do to dispel doubt from the mind of my friend, and resume the former relationship we had been cherishing for years?

I am not feigning ignorance in this matter, but do feel helpless sincerely. If human relations should depend on proofs and witnesses, then there are less chances that any lasting relationship could ever be possible. I do understand, if I had not given any scope to my friend to doubt my trust, she would not have done so, and therefore I am partly responsible for making things this way, and will have to crack my mind to find an amicable solution to this problem. I know for sure that time is a great healer, and if I do give enough time for these things to settle down, probably I may find that the doubt has evaporated in the meantime!

The Smart Passers

It is unfortunate that some of the smartest persons are not the most admired persons by a cross section of people. We know that the smart people are those who have a fairly high intelligence (we may say they have a good IQ), endowed with a lot of qualities which make them enviable persons; on the other side of the spectrum, we may find that these are people who have low on emotional quotient (EQ) and that may cause their downfall. Therefore being smart has its own share of disadvantages, especially when it comes to inter-personal relationships. Today let us reflect about such people, what makes them tick, and what makes them some of the most abominable characters on earth.

He is highly talented, gifted for languages, excellent organizer (who even while remaining inside his room, could organize a mammoth crowd, with perfect and calculated order and discipline), charming person, especially to the members of the opposite sex, shrewd and calculative to the core. He is quite popular among the people, but not among the people he lives with. There is one difference: the people who live with him know him thoroughly, while those others know him from only what they see and hear. People of this category are like sugar-coated pills, they may get their work done by hook or by crook, and dump the people who helped them until they would need their help.

While some of us youngsters were living in a Jesuit community some years ago, we have a companion, who loved to hold too many portfolios, though his ill-health restricted his movement, but he was more than happy to be in full control over the place. There were two young men who had come for a year's experience in that place, and were in a sense computer savvy. So whenever this companion wanted some work to be done by these two youngsters, in the morning, during breakfast he would be seen wishing the two companions good morning, and enquire from them how they were. Soon these two friends found out that whenever he came to wish them good morning, there was a work to be done. So it happened so that in the morning if they found him coming to the dining room, they would run away from the place.

The so-called smart people have many trump cards to play with. One of their excellent cards is the ease with which they would be able to pass their responsibilities on to others, most often the gullible and the vulnerable. They are ace passers of bugs. You would find them always busy, though if you try to probe what they were busy with, you would be disappointed to find that they were not preoccupied with any work, but they only pretend to be busy. Their sweet words would melt even the mighty stones; you may never hear any harsh word from them. While they talk sweetly to you, they may not be all that charitable about others, and you can be sure that when they talk to others, you may be one of the favorite subjects!

I consider people of this sort as venom, slowly poisoning the society we live in. While they get all their work done by any means possible, they themselves may not do any thing, not even their own responsibilities. Alas for those who associate with these men and women, for they may be too soon enticed by gifts of all sorts, and will find themselves hooked to their gentle orders. If you are able to see through their trickery and keep a safe distance, you may fall into their bad books, and may fall out of their favor too. But that would only save your skin, besides your strength and energy. Beware of these people, for you do not know when they may entice you and make you do their bidding!

The Sweet-Talker

It was not a pleasant experience! I called up a senior friend of mine yesterday to ask for an official favor, that is to say, a favor not for me personally, but on an official level. And the friend, who addresses me always as a younger brother, sounded very enthusiastic at what I was asking for, and he readily complied to my request. He invited me to attend a meeting too regarding the favor I was asking him, and later during the day he called me up to say that he was postponing the meeting to today morning. But when I reached his place to attend the meeting, with the hope that the request had been agreed upon, and we were to plan out things for a common program.

It came as a rude shock for me to realize that the people concerned about this common program were not in one mind; there were differences of opinion, and I was blind to it. My senior friend had not told me when I asked him about the possible problems and inconveniences. So when we began the meeting, there were arguments and counter arguments. I who had taken for granted that consent had been given to hold the common program in friend's place, got a message quite different from the one I was given to understand. It was an embarassing situation, as every one spoke about the pros and cons. But I found it hard to save my face, because I really did not know what the main problem was.

I was quite disappointed by the opposition posed by certain members, and I found it uneasy at that moment to counter them. I had already announced that the common program was to be held at that place, and it would be quite cumbersome to change the venue; that would only confuse the invitees. I even heard my senior friend say then that it would be better to shift the program to some other place, but it was difficult for me to do that, because I had already announced the venue. Luckily I had to meet our printer to give him the material for printing, and so I had to move out of the place for about fifteen minutes.

Thank God, when I returned to the place after meeting the printer, the situation had cooled, and the members were in a much better mood to discuss and decide. All agreed that the program could be held there, and necessary arrangements would be made by people concerned. I was happy that at last all the members together consented, and that my burden had been lightened. I really had a sigh of relief, when I heard all people concerned, agreed to take charge of the entire program. But I was still not sure where the problem was, which put the members in a fix in the beginning?

I did get the answer when I met another younger friend of mine, who told me that my senior friend was not too happy to hold the common program in his place, and was complaining to other members about the inconveniences. But why could he not tell me when I called him to ask about his opinion? Unfortunately my senior friend belongs to the category of people who wish to please every one on earth. While people of this sort have sweet words for people who ask them a favor, at the heart they are quite sour, and in order to protect themselves, they would pass the bug on to others. My friend, who had been known as an excellent organizer, would not like to take responsibility, but wanted others to own up the proposal. Since better sense prevailed among other members, my day was saved!

Never-Loser!

I don't much believe when people say that healthy competition can bring the best out of people! I don't really think any competition can be healthy, because of the simple fact that human beings cannot easily tolerate others when it comes to a race. When you announce a wonderful prize, even the lame would think of joining the race, and if people want to win by all means, then they will not bother about the means they choose to achieve their goal. It might become a matter of life and death, and where is the scope for friendly competition, and getting the best out of people. In fact, competition may be the occasion when not only the best, but the worst may also surface.

It always happens on the road. When I am on the road on a motorbike, and see a stranger speeding and passing by me, I am hurt, and I turn the gear spontaneously with the hope of throwing this stranger behind me; there is a silent competition, and I cannot let the stranger ride his bike faster than me. Unconsciously I feel I am a loser in comparison to this stranger, who is a completely new person and whom I will never meet in life! But on the road, you cannot talk about healthy competition. If someone is going to over take me in speed, it is shame on me, and I have to show that person I can ride the bike faster than him. The joke is that that person may not even be aware that I felt threatened and wanted to over take him!

The fact is, it happens all around us. Not only on the road. When I go for a walk in the evening at the nearby park, I often would like to make sure that no one overtakes me, that I am faster than all the others. When there is a smart looking youngster over takes me, I feel terrible. I chase my feet, at times even putting undue pressure on the poor legs. Wherever and whenever there is a competition, I would like be the winner, whether I am qualified to even take part in it. There is an in-built mechanism in me to win all the time, irrespective of the field of specialization or the occasion. Does the notion of healthy competition ever occur to me? I really don't remember that happening in real life situation.

But I cannot allow myself to enter into uninvited competition in all the places at all time; that would only lead me crazy. I cannot stop getting into the road, lest someone overtakes me; nor could I stop going for my customary evening walk. I have felt a way of handling this situation and it is quite simple. Before I get into my motorbike, I tell myself that I am not the best rider on earth, and instead of entering into an uninvited ad hoc competition, I would acknowledge that I am not going to compete with anyone, not even with myself. I don't really care if someone wants to show off that he/she can rider better than me, faster than me! It really does not matter to me. If I really mean these words, then there are possibilities that I may return home sane and safe.

There is a secret way how I can always win in a competition - it is for me to determine if I win or lose. The magic mantra is this : I deliberately and consciously decide to be out of competition. I am not going to prove to anyone (least of all to myself) that I am better than all the rest. I am aware of what I am, and am satisfied with my performance in the past and in the present. I am happy with my credentials, and need no more, especially from the once-in-a-life-time strangers. This sort of self-talk can take me a long way in reaching the full potentiality I am truly capable of.

The Fire-brands

I am amazed to see how some people are full of energy and vitality even when they have crossed the threshold of a successful career. Some used to say there is no retirement for the people with a zest! They might be tinkering the coffin, even after being buried, because they cannot keep quiet even for a minute! It is a joy to come across people of this category. Mind you, I am not talking about workaholics, who believe in working for the sake of it, but am referring to the people who enjoy the work they do. They are, as it were, married to their job, and would forego a meal or even biological need in order to get something done!

We often come across the people of the other category too, people who do not believe in giving their best, but be satisfied with the minimum they are expected to give. These are the dead bodies, walking on our streets, they have neither life nor vitality. They would delight in eating, sleeping, gossiping and indulge in everything that is unhealthy and harmful to oneself and the wider society. These people are the one's who become a pain in the neck of the people of the former category, and alas, if you get one of this type as your partner! Your life will be ruined within weeks or months. Before you change them, they would have converted you to their company!

Life can be a lot of fun only when we get into what we are busy with; it may be a silly routine job, or a highly creative process. It is the same with people who know how to turn each moment a magical memory! Some of the modern day messiah's have proposed one way of getting the best out of life. Take for instance, Eckhart Tolle, while proposing the Power of Now, has invited us to dissociate ourselves from the mind by savoring the present moment. Being present to the every moment can make us realize that life is not just a fleeting instance, but one which can make a dry stick bloom with a thousand blossoms! For these people, even deserts will be covered with oasis all the stretches!

The universe still has a breed of men and women who can defy nature and time, and contribute their little mite for the benefit of the world. These are the people who stop aging, and their biological clock as a matter of fact, moves in reverse. To come in touch with even one such person is like a piece of iron coming into the presence of a powerful magnetic field. You get drawn to, and it might be too hard for the iron piece to get out of the magnetic field. While being in touch with magnetic field, the iron too is magnetised, and when it leaves the magnetic field, it carries with it powerful magnetic current, and that can change the world around!

I call such men and women modern day sages and saints, who have the potentiality to change the face of the earth. It is possible that the world can boast of only a negligible per centage of men and women, who can ignite the lives of others, who can set the world on fire. The men and women with zest for life, are the treasure house of any society. It is not what they do, which nourishes the society at large, but their very presence is enough to inject new life and vitality to all around them. Such people never experience death; they only pass from one phase in life to another, and even their memories are sure to spread the magnetic field far and wide. The aura of their sanctity is the food for the world today!