Tuesday 8 October 2013

My Book Shelf

©      Beatrice and Virgil
©      EM and the big HOOM
©      Maps for Lost Lovers
©      Interpreter of Maladies
©      Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found
©      Vanity Bagh
©      The Sly Company of People Who Care
©      Difficult Pleasures
©      Unaccustomed Earth
©      The Dark Room
©      Malgudi Days
©      Chronicle of A Corpse Bearer
©      The Da Vinci Code
©      Life of Pi
©      Acceptable Risk
©      Another Man’s Wife
©      The Wandering Falcon
©      Brain
©      Doctors
©      The Emperor of All Maladies
©      To Kill a Mockingbird
©      The Collaborator
©      The God of Small Things
©      A Free Man
©      Eat Pray Love
©      The Folded Earth
©      Orphan of Islam
©      Crime and Punishment
©      Train to Pakistan
©      The Catcher in the Rye
©      The Fountain Head
©      The Fault in Our Stars
©      The Great Gatsby
©      The Kite Runner
©      A Thousand Splendid Suns




Monday 23 September 2013

Faith is GOD

                It is a pleasant dusk: the sun has started snuggling into his bed of clouds as the earth is painted a dull and peaceful orange. I get down from my office bus and walk slowly towards my area's goddess Durga temple. I come here when I feel low and hopeless - today is no different; my issues have been pressing me since a week and the stress has reached the acumen today. I remove my pink floral slipper in the footwear area right next to an old beggar woman. She looks at my slippers and then at my face and immediately her hands come together for alms. Only her hands are asking for alms, not her eyes: she is looking at me expressionless. What is going on in her mind? She couldn't have been a beggar from birth; did she have a life of happiness and prosperity? Is she married? Does she have children? Why is she looking at me without a wink? Do I remind her of someone she loves or someone she hates? I cannot say. 
                  
                  I open my purse to look for money: there is a 10Rs note and three 100Rs notes. I search the purse again - nothing else. I have to give my pending due of 250Rs to the auto guy and I need the remaining amount for medicines. That leaves me with only 10Rs. I wanted to buy flowers as an offering for god. I take out the 10Rs and look at god: god is dressed in a green silk saree with a broad golden border; a necklace, a long chain, two bangles, a pair of green stone earrings and a lot of garlands and flowers. I look at her: her saree is torn in a lot of places and her hair is like a bush. I cannot say if she is fair or dark as she is covered from head to foot with layers and layers of dirt; looks like she has not bathed or even washed her face for eons. Her cheek is pulled inward into her mouth as though it had offered itself for the teeth which had nothing else to chew; her skin is wrinkled like a rotten tomato and her eyes are but a thin line. I place the 10Rs in her hand. She says: "God Bless you!" I walk into the temple.

                I stand in the sanidhanam and look at god; I remember why I’m here: the question ‘How will I manage tomorrow?’ comes back to my head. I cannot concentrate, cannot pray; I walk over to a corner of the temple and sit down. As I make myself comfortable on the cold floor, I see a girl entering the temple. She is wearing a neatly embroidered navy blue top with pure white Punjabi pant and shawl. I cannot say she is good looking but she is beautiful: something in her makes her look very attractive – couldn't put my finger on it. She walks over to the sanidhanam. From where I am sitting, I can see her left side. Her hands come together as if in prayer, but she is not praying; she is looking at god pleadingly, questioningly; and then she starts crying. The quiet tears then slowly turn into soft sobs. Ten minutes must have gone – she wipes her tears and walks out unceremoniously. So much for all this crying, I think. After 5 minutes she walks in again, hands full of garlands. She hands it over to the priest and watches beamingly as he puts one garland each on all the gods in the temple (Must have cost her a good sum!).

                What makes people think god exists?! I have not seen god, no one I ever know has seen god and there is no proof that god exists. But there are temples all over and so many religions! There are some people who are ‘God fanatics’, some are total believers, some are cat on the wall (like ME!) and some are total non-believers. Which of these categories is the right one? I don’t know the answer, atleast not yet. For me, God is an object of faith; I heard someone say that ‘Faith is a blessing!’ True, the idea of god helps me have faith on my faith, helps me keep my ego and pride in check, encourages me to help others, soothes me that people who wrong me will face the consequences someday, promises me of the things I deserve and when I can do nothing about things happening around me, faith gives me the solace and the strength to go on. I look at god once more and walk out. Tomorrow, I’ll fight it out, endure the things that I cannot change with realization, help others as much as I can, talk to people with kindness, and love myself for all that I am and all that I am not.J
Thanks for reading J
God Bless You!




Thursday 7 March 2013

Loretta Solomon, the salt of the earth


It was a rainy day and it was the 8th period of the day. I was in my 7th standard then. It was the English hour. My English teacher, Ms Loretta Solomon was in charge of that hour. All of us liked Miss Solomon (as we called her).Unlike other teachers, she had her own box, just like we had one. A short scale, a pencil, an ink eraser, a pencil eraser, a ball point pen, one each of blue and red were always there in her box. She is an Anglo Indian and she did not like a hair out of place. She used to wear knee length skirts, do her shoulder length hair with two hair pins behind her ears and be as fresh in the 8th period as she was in the 1st. She was and is the role model of many of my school students, including me. She came into the class, wearing her usual smile. We were tired, but never had we failed to smile back at her.

      Usually, she used to check our Home Works (HW) for the first 5-10 minutes and start   the day’s lessons. Those of us who had not completed the HW would be asked to stand until we are done with it. The same happened that day, but unfortunately only one boy, Sam (name changed) had not completed his HW. Sam had very few friends. He was the most rebellious and the rudest person of the class; he never cared for other’s emotions. His day, as we thought, would not be complete without making at least one girl/boy cry. Hence, as a girl of his class and a victim of his bullies, I hated him to the core, just as all others did.

      Consequentially, when Sam was asked to stand, there were short chuckles among us. This was quite enough to infuriate him: we could make out that he was at the height of his anger throughout the hour. When our teacher left, we were busy packing to leave for home. My place in class was only one seat behind his. So, as I was placing my books inside my bag, I heard him say to another boy: “What does she think of herself? Did she forget how rich I am? Now, she tops my hit list; Watch what happens hereafter!”

     The next day, as soon as Miss Solomon came in, the other boy rushed to her and said everything that Sam had told him the day before. All of us were dumbfounded, including Sam. Being an Anglo Indian School, discipline was strictly followed. We thought it was the judgement day for Sam and he’s going to be beaten up badly and given TC. All of a sudden the class was in a hushed silence; Miss Solomon summoned Sam. He went to her hesitantly, shivering from head to toe; she drew him close to her and raised his hung face.

     We expected a tight slap and so did he. But to our surprise, she smiled gently at him! We looked at each other in complete confusion and he, stared at her blankly! She smiled again and said in a gentle voice: “Sam is this the way you behave to someone who cares for you and does things for your own benefit? Will your parents be happy if they come to know of your behavior? Listen son! We are all children of God; what makes each one of us different is how good or bad we are. What do you think you will be remembered for? Your money? Your car? Your smartness? No son! You will be remembered only for your character and goodness. Sometime in future, when any of your classmates think of you, they should feel, ‘What a guy!’ and not ‘What a wrenched ass!’ Decide for yourself! God bless you! Now go to your place.”

     The class was still in absolute silence; I saw Sam weeping (!!!). She started the day’s lessons- but none of us listened! We were in an emotional turmoil deeply musing about what we will be remembered for.

     A few days back, I met one of my classmates; I heard from her that someone who we thought would flunk in his board exams is doing his Engineering in a very good college with a good score. The credit of turning a bully into a human being goes to Ms Solomon! Wonder how many teachers can take such credit!