Making a Difference

This Independence Day was the most eventful one in my life. Being a member of a social service goup we had visited a school for hearing impaireds. And just a couple of hours changed the whole way I look at life. I saw small children who can't hear or speak perform skits and dance to music to the instructions of their teachers. They seemed so normal, so fine, until you see the wires hanging from their ears. Poor kids, they could not hear anything, only they knew to make the movements when the teacher told them to. But the zest in them to perform their best was overwhelming. It reminded me of Sudha Chandran. I feel no problem is a problem unles it is in our mind.

Few days back some volunteers went to an institution where young children having aids were kept. They came back with horrible stories of sex crimes. Some of the affected kids were born HIV positive. But as for the rest, they got it as a result of being raped. And just to think they are just kids! Facing the double trauma of sexual harrasment and approaching death. Most of the kids were sex workers. In a country where child labor is banned. This is what the supervisor had to say - "We learned the prevention from the west, but we never learned to use them".

The main aim of our institution is to provide education to the under priviledged. We sponsor the education of several children of orphanages and poor parents. But a strict vigilance is required to be sure the money is not wasted or ill used. So we often visit the orphanages and teach the children english and mathematics, things we feel they need to hone on. What surprises me most is to see the sharpness of mind and the eagerness to learn of some of the kids. I had been a lecturer once. And my previous experience tells me that ambitious parents spend a lot of money ingetting a bit of knowledge into heads that are as impervious as rocks. I also get surprised by the emotional detachment of the kids. Till date not a single one has cried to come along with us when we go. God has his own way of healing wounds.

The Four Liquid Stages of Life

I Have Realized That....

The Theft............

We had a theft at our house last week. Well, our fault. One of us forgot to close the door properly. But the incidents that followed is something that I'll never forget in my life.

I reached home round 9 pm and was shocked to see the door unlocked. With my heart in my hand, I entered the apartment full ready to confront anyone waiting inside. But everything was intact. Everything. TV, DVD player, digicams, ipods, everything. It took us sometime to realize that the only items missing were the jewellery boxes. We acted according to our instinct by calling the Association Secretary who advised us to call the police. But then the drama started.

It was almost 11:30 at night when the police finished their routine checkup. They were still downstairs telling us to lodge a formal complaint, when all of a sudden from nowhere a man appeared and started barking at us. It took us sometime to realize the nature of our fault. What he had to say was that at that time of the night we had no right to call the police and disturb him (We didn't even know who he was). And that if we do this again the police will not come to help us. That we are here for a few days and they will have to bear the brunt always. Although we were out of our wit at the change of events but we finally realized that he was the secretary's husband who had missed his dinner because his wife was out with us.

I remember such an incident happening when I was at home in West Bengal. It was 3 in the morning and a neighbourng house was being burgled. The owner was away in some vacation. The people in the floor below had detected movement and had alerted the neighbours.. But even during that time of night not a single person had hesitated to move out of the house. And here we were being barked upon by a stranger for calling the police for a theft of "JUST" 17000 Rupees. Possibly he would have been satisfied if one of us were looted, raped and killed. That could have been a valid reason for calling the police.

Chennai is the only metro known for being self centered and for closing it's eyes to the rest of India. And I realized I stay here.

Anomalies of football

Football was never my game. Quite strange for someone coming from a place where fates are determined by Mohun Bagan-East Bengal goals. But with two diehard football fans in the house and Brazil-Argentina world cup quarter finals on the live, I was not left with another option.

The evening started as usual. I was trying hard to make out dialogues from a hallprint DVD of Krrish, when one of my roomies detected a cheer outside. The rest was as expected. I was politely requested for the remote, and a goal from Argentina decided I must wait till next day to hear the nature of death of Hrithik's dad. But what surprised me most was to think that one game was holding more than half of the world in anxiety and anticipation. And here in my house I was wondering what fun came from twenty good men fighting over one ball! Another thing that strikes me is that Football must be the only game where players have the most exotic hairstyles. You can see all varieties....normal small, long beaded, short beaded, skull beaded, pony tail, plaeted, and then.....hey Ronaldo, you don't really need to carry your signature on your head!

But what I dislike most is the feeling of confinement in the game. Whoever decided the rules must have been out of his mind or dead drunk to remove the use of hands. Why, is it a game for handicaps? It is so odd to see big men jumping about, trying everyway to hit the ball while their hands hang out loose by their sides. I like cricket. Cross the boundary and you get a score.

The most strenuous momemts arrived when the match came down to a one-man-one-kick strategy. The tension in my house was no less than the one in the field. Two people who had never let a foot on a football sat back straight, eyes barely blinking. But God had other plans. Amidst tears and laughter I tried to grasp the actual gravity of the situation. One devasted from the loss of her father's favorite team and the other dazed and unable to move from Argentina's fall. The commentary in bengali that followed about the after affects of such loss set me wondering whether its an insinuation of what is to come in the house. But all in all I had lost interest in Hrithik for the time being.

From Behind the Glass

I often wonder how it would feel to cross the wires and touch the animals. Would touching a parrot be same as touching a tiger...the same feeling of confinement? Would I get the same feral tingle when I touch the wild and the caged? If lion is the king of the jungle then who is the king of the zoo? How much more than the book do our children learn when they see a caged deer? Which is more useful, the zoo or the Animal Planet?


I often wonder why butterflies are so colorful and houseflies so noisy. Why do we feel butterflies in our stomach when we are nervous? Did anyone feel fireflies in the stomach when they are hungry? Fireflies create the same amount of beauty at night as do butterflies in the day, then why are butterflies romantic and fireflies mystic? What would it be to be a butterfly for one day? Do we have the time?


I often wonder how it would feel to touch the old vase inside the museum. Will I feel the days when it occupied the corner of an unknown house? Was it a gift of love or a duty fulfilled? Did the maker get a percent of the money that it is worth today? How would the owner feel if he knew he held a future fortune? Why do we take so much time to value that we could value today?


When I stand behind the glass pane of my window, I often wonder why the sea is so blue? What the creator had in mind when He made the sky limitless? It feels so great when raindrops comes pouring down on us from above. How does it feel when bombs come down............