Ujjwal "ka" bolo....aa...kamal....amal.

 He has always been the most precious one in our family,  maybe because he is the youngest.

The youngest have this unique disposition of being the mother's favourite child and so automatically becomes the envy of the older siblings, and children can be really mean. They will get even by bullying, teasing and threatening the youngest one. Did we do all that? We, the older siblings? Of course we did, it is only normal to do so. The youngest one was always told, " there was a beggar on the streets of Nagpur who was saying, Is bacche ko koi le lo, and our parents took pity on you and brought you home."

So this youngest one was a book addict even before he knew his alphabets. Once when he may have been around three years old, he fell ill and was admitted to the Nursing Home at Ranchi. As he was recovering and was sitting up he would ask for the Punch & Judy book and turn the pages looking at the pictures. The Doctor had named him Pandit. His love for books remains to this day and I for one have never seen him without a book in his hand. 

My mother pampered him so much that even as an eight year old he had a formal woolen suit stitched, which he wore in winter. The Doctor had advised that he should be protected in the winters from the chill, so till the age of twenty one it was made sure that he was warm and comfy, for which he was teased every year religiously by the two of us elder ones who were allowed to live free.

When we had gone to Khetri Copper mines, the family was going down a tunnel. Ujjwal allowed our father, Sunil and me to go down, but caught hold of the arm of our mother and said, "No mummy, you don't go, let all the others go." I don't think he saw an end to that teasing also. How we would tease a terrified possessive child!

His inquisitive nature made him want to become an inventor. He wanted to invent a remedy for getting rid of the horrible cockroaches. He would in all seriousness gather Vim, detergent, antiseptic medicine, phenyl and any thing else that he could think of,  prepare a decoction and then try to kill the insect. I guess this project must have died a natural death, otherwise we sure had an inventor amidst us.

He has always been an extremely bright student. I remember we had gone to attend the Prize Distribution function of St. Xavier's School, Doranda, Ranchi. We were sitting in the hall, when Ujjwal's name was called for Best Student Award, before going up to the podium he thanked me. I was overwhelmed and bursting with pride. He said you taught me. He was hardly nine years old then. I am so so proud of this youngest brother of mine who has always been an exceptionally brilliant scholar. He has always raised the bar a notch higher for himself, St. Stephen's College Economics Honours, MBA from I. I. M. Ahmedabad, RBI Grade B,  and then straight into the IAS. It is a well deserved achievement always. Our dad would have been an extremely proud father seeing him reach the heights that he has in his service.

I do not have to spell out that whatever department he worked in he has left a mark of excellence. He turned around loss making corporates into profit making ones. He is a wizard with the latest technology and keeps himself abreast of everything that happens in his organisations.

He is an extremely positive person who has a theory of positivity which he is spreading with his talks,  speeches,  classes and writing. He writes beautifully, his thought for the day is always brilliant.

Ujjwal has always been  a devoted son. A loving and caring brother and pride of the whole family.

He is extremely sharp and quick in his observation, analysis and has clear thinking. He is an out and out family person who wants to fulfil the desire of every person in his family. He observes, thinks and  acts without making it obvious and lo and behold your wish is fulfilled. 

I wish every happiness to Ujjwal, Archana his very understanding and steadfast rock, his lovely three children Shayari, Prioska and Aadarsh.

On your birthday dear Utur Minar of our family I wish that all your wishes come true. May happiness always dwell with you. May all your desires be fulfilled. 

For you Chaitali.

It would be a cold day,
As Decembers are supposed to be,
Yet it was always filled with warmth and glee,
A smile, some cheer and a dimple here and there,
Balloons and buntings and rearranging chairs,
Ordering a cake and candles for sure.

Get the gulab jamun, samosa, sandwiches and chips,
Get pencils, erasers, sharpeners and sweets,
Each classmate would get a packet and sing the birthday song,
Wasn't the day special right from dawn?
A new dress,  matching ribbons and lovely clips,
My smiling captain was always so full of these little things.

A much loved girl,
A caring and "Mere ko aata girl",
Never to falter, never to fight,
She always got what she wanted with her might,
Her nana's most beautiful grand daughter and nani's life,
Chaitali was always- always right.

My dear girl, so many years have since passed,
We celebrate quietly and wish and wish for you,
We keep wishing that you get everything and yet some more,
May your dimple with its bewitching smile,
Keep illuminating everyone in your life.
May you always be there with happiness so bright,
May you have everything that you wish for in your life,
We wish you lots of love, happiness, presents and surprises,
Cherish every moment, live life well,
Smile and spread cheer always my dear little girl.

THOUGHT PROVOKING

Today I would like to share with you some different kind of food for thought.

These are three different incidents with a common theme.

I would love to know your reactions and  thoughts.

1. This morning I read that a beggar died somewhere in Tamil Nadu. From his personal belongings was recovered money to the tune of Rs 1 crore, 86 lacs, and a few more thousands. He, it is said died of shock after knowing about demonetisation.

2. After reading about this incident, TNN my husband recalled that sometime in the year 1955,  a beggar who was a permanent resident under the Railway bridge near the GPO at Kashmiri Gate was found dead one day. When the MCD  came to remove his body, from his belongings was found a quilt inside which Rupee notes had been stitched. The total money found in the quilt was approximately Rs. 26,000.  In 1955 that was a very huge amount of money.

3. The third incident is of the year  1977. TNN was travelling by bus from Chandigarh to Delhi. On the way there was a stop of the bus at Ambala, where a young boy boarded the bus. He was selling combs. The boy took a round of the bus, approached all the passengers and left the bus without selling a single comb. Soon after that a beggar climbed the bus and set about his business of begging. Almost twenty passengers  on the bus gave him money in varying denominations.

LET THE BOYS CRY TOO.

I am delighted to have touched a lot of people, who read my last blog, "A Loud and Clear Voice." I received a lot of comments and suggestions and I am very thankful for the responses that I received. I am sure my words  did not hurt, they only made my reader sit up and take stock of the situation around him/her. If each one of us becomes aware and helps improve the situation, then the next generation will have every reason to be thankful to us for having left the world a better place.

All of us take so many things for granted, that a lot of subtle hurts, insults, humiliations become a part of our life. Inadvertently a lot of patterns get set in our everyday life that majority of us do not even feel the pinch that we are either causing or receiving.

About forty years ago, I was posted as a Junior Officer in the bank in Chandigarh. A male officer and I were posted as Field officers and sat on the first floor of the huge sprawling building. We both had desks next to each other. On a particularly tiring day both of us  were looking forward to going home and waiting for the clock to tell us that it was time to go home when my colleague said,

"Oh I am so tired today. I will go home and rest after a good cup of tea. I am sure my wife will have made some pakodas(vegetable fritters) too."

A light bulb suddenly switched on in my head and I discovered how everything was so different for him and me.  I too would go home, prepare tea for my parents in law, my husband and myself, then make sure that my children drank their milk without fuss and then went out to play in the park infront of my house. After that I would prepare the dinner for everyone, lay the table, pick up after everyone,  tidy up the kitchen and only then catch up on that much needed rest.

Although much water has flown down the Ganges in the last forty years, and a lot of attitudes have since changed, yet even today I  see a number of girls leaving their jobs to bring up their children. It does make me wonder why it is always a woman who takes a break to look after her children, why does a man never take on the role of a stay at home dad? I have seen very qualified girls from the best Institutes taking a back seat in life.  The mind set that women are softer, and more caring, needs to be examined de novo. According to me soft touch, mother's instinct, nurturing capabilities of women are much hyped abilities. Can a man not be caring and soft? Are they really devoid of feelings or are they just encouraged to maintain a macho image? I have seen more men cry in movies then women. Perhaps in the darkened movie theatre they are able to vent out their pent up emotions easily. Why are we so unfair to men? Why do we not allow them to express their emotions?

I believe that a man can be as kind, considerate and caring of his children if he is given the responsibility.  The fact remains that women's position is always secondary in our society and a movie like "Ki and Ka" which has role reversal as its theme is seen with a lot of trepidation. Here I can cite my own example. When my children were small and would wake up at night, it was always my husband who would attend to them and never wake me up.

In London where my daughter lives, I used to go to pick up my grand daughter from school on some days and saw a few men also come to pick up their children. The mothers sometimes would get together for coffee and one of the fathers would always join in at the mother's coffee do. He was a stay at home dad who looked after his two children while his wife pursued her career full time. In western societies I have seen very close cooperation and sharing of all domestic chores as there is no demarcation of your task and my task.  It is always common work which is performed by either spouse on different days. I do fervently hope that this trend catches on here too and we have more men coming up to take on the role of a caring parent along with sharing of domestic work.

 A lot of people have said that women are the worst enemies of their own kind. I totally agree with them.  It is a mother who is the first teacher of her children.

It is a mother who tells her little son when he cries,

"Don't be a sissy. Why are you crying like a girl?"

"Are you a girl? Why are you crying?"

"You are a boy, boys don't cry. Boys are strong."

A little girl is never told to stop crying with any analogy.

Why on earth can a boy not cry? Why do we have these set patterns? What is wrong in crying?

Boys as well as girls feel hurt, sad, pained, insulted and humiliated.  Why should the reactions not be the same for boys and girls? Why should the boys control their tears and hide their feelings? Teach both boys and girls to control their tears if at all you think that tears must be controlled.  Personally I believe that one need not control tears, let them be shed if it relieves you of some hurt and pain.

Is it not time that mothers and fathers thought about what they are saying to their children?

This is how the seeds of inequality get sown in the minds of the little children who are exposed to this verbal abuse. Yes, I have used the word "abuse" because this is how we are instilling some set patterns of inequality in the minds of very unbiased young people. 

A very topical event about inequality right now is the Karwa Chouth fast that just got over.  This is a women oriented fast and is often a mother in law enforced fast. Thanks to movies and TV serials more and more women from all over the country have become aware of this basically North Indian festival and this year I saw a number of young ladies from Bengal and Maharashtra observe this fast. This is a fast that women keep for the longevity of their husband.

The latest generation  of girls  in big cities, I believe is highly educated, emancipated and evolved. They pursue complex careers, live independently and yet practice this fast. Does anyone actually believe that keeping this fast helps increase longevity of their husband? Really?

Some of the girls I spoke with are eternal romantics, who see something beautiful and filmy about being that loving and caring devoted wife who wants to keep a fast and adorn lovely clothes and jewellery to remain in touch with her Indian traditions by keeping a fast in a fast changing modern world. They perhaps want to simply  clutch on to some colourful romantic moments with old world charms.

I say keep the romance alive but please do not believe that your fast will actually increase the life span of your husband. I personally believe that some traditions and rituals need to be relegated as they actually demean the status of women, and it is in the interest of women to ensure that we create a free and fair world for the next generation of girls who are going to grow up to be women of the future in an equal and fair world unburdened with the task of ensuring the longevity of her husband, where no one takes on anything for ensuring her longevity.

Women  of all strata and from every set up, be it rural, urban or metropolitan, are exceptionally gifted people. They are born managers and their skills need to be studied and harnessed. Women can balance out and manage their time without any  external inputs. They are exceptionally capable as at any given time  they can cook, watch over the home work of the child, provide tea to her husband, listen to the school stories of the children with patience and also listen to the woes of the husband who just wants a sounding board who will give him no advice. No advice? True, no advice, as a wife is seldom treated as an intellectual who can give correct advice. There are exceptions of course.

This is a very stray example but I have heard this many times. If a wife says,"Lets go see X movie, I have heard it is very good."

The husband disregards it until one fine day he comes back from work and says,"Get ready quickly, we are going to see X movie, my friend XYZ has said that this movie is very good."

Well men and women who are emancipated and care, please do instil a sense of equality in all the children in your house.

Let boys and girls be equal. Let them know that they are equal. Teach them the same standards, arts and crafts, cooking and cleaning. Teach them that they are caring and nurturing people. They are all soft and kind. If a girl loves rough sports encourage her and if a boy loves cooking please encourage him. If a boy loves to play with dolls so be it, if a girl doesn't want to play with dolls let her be. Let there be no macho image and no fair and lovely. Let them grow up in a beautiful world which has a place for everyone. Let them claim their own space as they wish to.

A LOUD AND CLEAR VOICE.

I recently watched three movies in a row, all were women centric. Two were in Hindi and one was an English movie, "Pink", "Parched" and "The girl on the train" respectively. All three were about the exploitation of women and how the women tried in their own way to deal with the issue.

I also watched and heard the speech of Michelle Obama as well as of Donald Trump Junior, both again about women and their exploitation.

The rise of women and the empowerment of women to be more vocal and come out in the open and talk about the pain and indignity that they have suffered is a matter of surprise to a number of people.

I have seen a lot of men voice their concerns and wonder why women are now coming out in the open about having had to face harassment at the hands of Trump. They wonder why were these women silent for so long.
I did not hear these questions asked when a number of people suddenly came out about their being sexually assaulted by BBC's Jimmy Savile.

I wonder if all those men who laugh at women, make jokes about them and are surprised by the women coming out in the open, have ever thought about how those women may have felt when they were being subject to such harassment. How demeaned and helpless those women may have felt. How they may have stifled their screams and their desire to expose those men. If they had complained then would anyone have believed them? Would anyone make sure that they received justice? As it is this world is ruled and controlled by men and talking about such exploitation would never be taken in the right spirit.

Women who have risen very high in the Corporate world by their dint of hard work and excellent performance are often spoken about quite shabbily. I have heard it said in a demeaning manner with a sneer, "Arundhati Bhattacharya is trying to become the MD and COO of the World Bank", as though it is something she should not aspire for. When a man aspires for the same post, people do not sneer. I wonder why this does not surprise me!

 It appears as though the working world is divided in two groups. The efficient men and the conniving women. 

Women have always been given a secondary role in their house and they are never the controllers of their families. They may be the primary earning member, sometimes the only earning member and yet they have to take  a step back and allow the male ego to be pampered to maintain peace in the family. The man's ego has to be fed or else the grown up baby sulks, mopes and makes life generally very miserable for the entire household. The woman simply has to handle this situation with tender care and patience. Men have never got used to playing second fiddle in their house.

This pattern is not restricted to any particular area, it is  an universal phenomena and the same rule applies to rural, urban, or metropolitan areas and it cuts across all classes of society too. 

Most men find it hard to believe that women are not able to break out of this stereo typical image of being battered women. Battering does not have to be physical. It can be emotional as well as mental.  

One has heard of girls and young women being molested in their own houses by their male relatives, where sometimes their mother either does not accept that her daughter is telling the truth or looks the other way as she does not have the courage to bring this atrocity to light. The reasons for hiding this crime may be many and quite diverse too. 

Another problem is that many people still believe that girls and young women invite such assaults by their sense of dressing. Why should a girl have to take care of her dressing lest she tempt a man to take advantage of her? Is she not allowed freedom to choose what she  can wear? Is it not a problem of the man who is leering at her? 

Just as in the movie Pink, three girls live away from their homes for the sake of convenience, today there are many young working girls and students who stay away from home. These girls do get branded as more freedom loving. It is often presumed that they are not very prudish and would be willing to go to any extent for the sake of fun.

I say if the girl is willing then there is no problem, but why on earth should it be taken for granted that the girls are asking for the attention of the people of the opposite sex?

About forty years ago, I was posted to a branch in Chandigarh and stayed alone on the second floor of a house. The land lord and land lady stayed on the first floor. The house was very safe.  Every weekend I would travel to Delhi where the rest of my family stayed. One weekend I stayed back and was very surprised to have a visitor on Sunday afternoon. The person was a colleague from the department where I worked. I asked him what brought him to my house.

He said,"I thought you must be lonely, so I would give you company in the afternoon."

I actually could not believe my ears. What business did he have to come to my house uninvited?

Who asked him to come and give me company?

I lost my temper and asked the fellow to leave and never come back again.

There are many such predators amongst us waiting to pounce on single women who would be living alone for a multitude of reasons.

Even after forty years I do not see much difference in the attitude of most people.

The patriarchal society that we live in has given men unlimited powers. They can say anything, do anything, shout, mope, control and batter women without the women having any recourse to justice and a right to live with dignity.

Equality is one right which exists only on paper. There is no equality in the real world. 

I have known a family where the husband insisted that one person in the family must have the power to take a decision in all matters.  As soon as this power is given to one person, the other person automatically has to become inferior as the right to dissent, to have a different opinion is taken away. One just has to fall in line and agree to the diktats of the decision making authority.

One scene in the movie Parched which I may not be able to forget easily is when a married girl runs away from her house and comes back to her parental home. The Panchayat decides that she is bringing a bad name to the village and so she must be sent back. Much against the desire of the parents the girl is forced to go back.  Before being taken away the girl asks her mother to let her stay as she is routinely being raped by her brother in law. The mother does not relent, then the daughter cries that even her father in law rapes her. Yet the mother does not listen to her pleas and pushes the girl into the waiting vehicle and sends her daughter away.

This is the reality of a lot of hapless, helpless girls who have to face such atrocious behaviour from the male members of their own family. It is also the sad story  of hapless mothers who cannot help their daughters because they do not have the courage and wherewithal to go against society.

The mindset of everyone needs to change. The dignity of women can be maintained when each one of us stands up against exploitation. Each one of us must respect women and treat them as equals. Neither superior nor inferior, simply equal. Please do not deceive women by saying that we are putting you up on a pedestal. Please let the woman stand next to you on terra firma in her own space. No pushing, no jostling please. Let them be, let them grow, let them blossom.
Respect and equality must be taught from childhood. Respecting the privacy of a person and her choice needs to be practiced. A woman is not a thing. She is an individual, a person, a human being.
Men are because of her, she is not because of men.

Remember a man is physically strong above the torso but in the lower torso a woman is physically very strong.

A STATE OF MIND.

As I look for happiness, it eludes me, like a game of hide and seek,
One moment I catch it and then that moment is gone forever.

I look at an infant who gurgles at me,
Looks constantly without blinking an eye,
It fills me with a radiance because he liked me,
With all my blemishes, warts and colour.

That moment of happiness remains in my heart as a memory,
Although that moment has gone forever.

I sit and wait for happiness to come to me,
But it evades me like my shadow as evening approaches.
Can I  be happy by myself?
Alone, forlorn, waiting for happiness to strike?

Then comes the Eureka moment when I realise,
I am that unaware musk deer,
It is my own radiance which spreads to the rainbow,
It is my own fragrance which reaches the moon,
It is the joy that I myself spread,
Which gets reflected in the eyes of that little child.

Where was I seeking happiness, looking for it?
It was all along lying within me,
I am the source of my own happiness,
The more I spread it the more I beget it.
Happiness is after all only a state of my mind.

CLUTTER

As I was cleaning out a cup board which has the curious habit of getting untidy faster than the time it takes for me to tidy it up, a multitude of thoughts went through my mind.
From where did all this clutter come up? In all these years of living all that I have accumulated is clutter?
Clutter here, clutter there and clutter, clutter everywhere!
How do I get rid of it?

My mind says throw some away, give some away, just go on with the distribution.
As now all that I need is some time and also some peace of mind,
I need to be able to rest and look at empty space.

Old clothes are just like memories stored away.
My precious sarees, my  children's uniforms with scribbles of their friends which were once such treasures lie in an almirah, which I fondly attend to. Every once in a while I take out all the clothes, sun them out and fold them back. Put some naphthalene balls, wrap them carefully so that moths stay away.

Life I feel now is all about saving memories.
Refreshing , sunning and putting them back again.

What do I do with the clutter? I do not have the heart to give them away.
What do I do?
Tell me pray!

MACABRE MUSINGS

The funeral pyre is getting ready to be lit,
The smoke engulfs, ashes get strewn,
Spectators look, jostle, pay respects and move on,
They look for shade, a place without the smoke, and wait.

As the pyre is lit and the person who now has no identity,
"Body", that is how the person is now talked about,
Is being burnt with firewood, ghee, sandalwood,
Mantras, rites and rituals.

What did the man stand for,
What was his contribution,
What was his fame and what was his name?
So many years of living is now up in flames.

The family congregates,
They talk in muffled whispers,
If you hear carefully,
The talk is inane.

The story of the man will remain,
His picture will adorn a wall,
People will move on,
Life will go on,


It seems like just another death, another funeral, another ritual,
It culminates in just another tea and biscuit session.

The distinguished

In a desert, in a red sand stone palace,

Greenery abounds and shows me several shades of the colour, 

Birds of different feathers sing their own tune,

The amazingly beautiful perfect peacock, 

The slightly colourful pigeons, 

The grey sober wood pigeons, 

The vibrantly green majestic parrots,

A migratory bird here and there,

A couple of mynahs too,

Never a sparrow to be spotted,

Not a single crow came by,

Do you really know why?

 Royalty will never accept commonality,

Strange are the ways of the world,

The common sparrow and the common crow,

Must find their own space.

These trees, this bit of sky 

Is only for majesty, beauty, and the colourful birds

An exception is the cuckoo which though not pretty has a lovely voice,

Is accomplished and so is distinguished and is accepted.

Even as you live life well, 

Do stand out in the crowd,

Or the world will pass you by,

As a has been, a bystander, and an also ran.

Although it is said,

They also serve who stand and stare.

EIGHTH OF AUGUST.

Today is my daddy's birthday,
Had he been here,
He would still be cheerful, full of life,
Still teach us how to take it easy,
and never run away from strife.

His favourite quote was,
"khudi ko kar buland itna, ki har tadber se pehle,
Khuda bande se yeh pooche, bata teri raza kya hai"

I have tried all my life to follow in his footsteps, but I still have so many wishes.
I wish I had his cheerful attitude, which was very infectious,
I wish I could forgive people as easily as he did,
I wish I could accept the adverse situations of life,
I wish I would not allow people to break my spirit,
I wish I had his resilience,
I wish I could fight back and never accept defeat when wronged,
I wish I was as patient as he was,
I wish I paid more attention and learnt to be like him,
I wish he was there at the other end of the phone,
I wish I could hear him say,"Uke here" once more,
I wish I could see that child like pleasure again,
That delight, that fun and that eternal call for a cup of tea and moongphalli.

Today I wish all of us a very happy birthday daddy,
I know you remain in our memory, and live on with us,


I shall try to follow in your footprints, I will continue trying forever,
Because that is my real tribute to you, my dear father.

MY POWER - MY LIFE

What is this inner voice, antar atma, khudi?

Is it ME? 

Am I the most powerful? 

My inner voice, my antar atma my khud?

Atm and atma,  khud and  khuda?

Param atma is my inner self  which is supreme,

Have I just conveniently named it God?

I have the reservoir of power,

I only allow that power to lie dormant, supine, resting.

I now know, every prayer is to my own self,

Every puja is to awaken my supine power,

Its that time when I am alone, focussed,

And fully trust my own self,

My atm and my atma,  my param atma, my power.

I have the power to achieve what I want,

I have the power to succeed.

It is me, and I alone,

Who is responsible to reach my goal,

I am an island in my own self,

So I live with harmony, adjustment and acceptance.

My world is mine and I from within determine how I live in this beautiful place,

A brighter tomorrow, a better scenario, a lovely sunset leading to a beautiful sunrise,

Is that not what I  want?

I trust my inner self and just leave it at that,

I decide, trust and believe....

I am now allowing  my "destiny" to be written by the power within me,

That "me" will determine my sorrows and my joys.

My power, my will, my life.

A small conversation at KAUSHAMBI

Recently on a short trip to Allahabad, I went to see the ruins of Kaushambi which is about 60 kms away from the city.

ASHOKA'S PILLAR.

The ruins are of Ashoka's time dating to around 300 BC. Buddha had visited the place around 600 BC.

At the ruins there were about five young boys grazing their goats. 

One of the boys started talking with me and said, "These are very old ruins".

 I asked, "How old are they?" 

He said "Oh they are very very old, about 500 years old". 

I said "No they are actually 2400 years old." 

He said "Oh"! 

I said "Next time a visitor comes then  tell them these are 2400 years old".  

He said "Ok, I can only tell what I know"

Then he asked me, "Where have you come from?" 

I said "From Allahabad," 

He said "Oh illahabad." 

I said "Yes". 

Then he said, "Accha, phir toh dehati he ho"

I was taken aback, but then it took  me a couple of seconds to understand that what he meant was that I was one of them only. It was a rare feeling that I experienced, a sense of comraderie, belonging and affection.

This entire conversation was of course in Hindi with the beautiful accent that people of that area have.

If you have watched "Shatranj ke khiladi" then please recall the accent of the young boy serving the Nawabs when they go to the village to continue with their game of chess when the British troops invade Lucknow. That was the accent and the beautiful Hindi that the boy spoke with me in.

This conversation left a deep imprint on  my mind. So much that I thought I would share it with you.

CAN YOU SEE THE BEAUTIFUL BIRD?

"Hand me down" meaningful stories

Let me share a hand me down story of a conversation between two hard of hearing friends.

There were two friends chatting over breakfast.

The first one said, " Hi, are you going to the market today?"

The second friend said,"No, no I was actually going to the market today."

First one replied," Oh! I thought you were going to the market today."

End of first story.

Second hand me down story:-

Everyday a Good Samaritan would pass the fish market on his way to work and also on his way back.

Everyday he would  see an old lady sitting with a basket of fish busily haggling over the price of the fish. On some days the fish were sold, on some days a lot remained unsold.

One day the Good Samaritan taking pity on her, thought that he would buy her entire stock at whatever price she quoted.

" Mai,  I see you trying to sell your fish daily. I can help you by buying your entire lot at whatever price you want as I have a friend who is a big fish monger in the city. Please tell me what price you want."

The old lady thought for some time and then said, " Child, this arrangement will not suit me. If I sell the fish to you in the morning what will I do with the rest of my day ? Now I spend my time talking with those who come to buy my fish. They share some time with me, talk about their work or family. They ask about my health, and sometimes even  ask for recipes. If you buy all my fish, I will not have these conversations and friends."

End of second story.

Moral of the story

I do believe conversations are very important.
Whether they are understood, misunderstood, meaningful or simply time pass, conversations  are interactions between human beings who have the great gift of language, speech, and empathy.

Dear friends who are reading this, "Please revive the art of talking, conversing, chatting, fighting!"

STORM OVER A CUP OF TEA

VARSHA'S STORY
It was one of those rare days when I had to make lunch. I thought I would also get TNN  involved a bit in the kitchen, so I asked him to make a cup of tea for me.
Let me make it very clear right now, that my tea is one of the easiest to make. Just boil a cup of water in the electric kettle, get a cup, put my favourite tea bag in it, add the boiling water and voila my cup of tea is ready.
I never knew getting that simple cup would end up in an adventure and exploration rigmarole.
TNN started heating the water and then asked,"Which cup do you want, Large or medium?"
I said, " Medium"
TNN," None of the medium ones are around."
I said,"Ok, get one from the Dining Room cupboard."

TNN quickly brought around a mug which was a decorative one which I don't use, as it has a lovely Grand mother's slogan on it.

"This one?" he asked.
I said,"No, go to the cup board with regular cups in the Dining Room"
TNN went and got a regular cup, "Is this one OK?"

"Yes, that one is just fine,"said I.
Not withstanding what I had just said, TNN went back to the Dining Room again and dug deeper and came out with another cup.
" How about this one?" he asked. This was the third cup that was being offered.

By this time I had lost all my desire to have tea, and was wondering why on earth did I add to my own woes.
Yet I said patiently, " I had said that the earlier cup was Ok, so why are you going on an exploration?"
TNN said,"But the one that you said yes to, is actually  small, it only looks big, YOU can't make out"

That was the end of my patience and all desire to have tea and I vowed to myself,"Never again will I ask  TNN to get involved with the kitchen."
Later wisdom dawned on me.
That was the intention, "NEVER ASK ME TO MAKE TEA"
Lesson learnt.

TNN'S STORY
Yesterday, Varsha asked me to make a cup of tea for her.
It wasn't a big deal, it was just a simple cup of tea, she didn't actually ask for the moon!
Yet, I was a bit confused, what was the catch, after all she was already in the kitchen?
Never mind, I thought to myself, I shall make a lovely cup of tea for Her Majesty.
As I put the water in the kettle for boiling, I found that Varsha's favourite cup was no where around.
I asked her which cup could I use.
Varsha said,"Get one from the Dining Room cupboard."
When I went to the Dining Room, I found that there were two cup boards. The "Yaksha Prashna" or "Gordon's knot" in front of me was which Cupboard?
I took a chance and picked up a beautiful blue cup with a lovely slogan and took it to Varsha. She didn't want that cup and said that I should try the other cup board and find a regular cup.
I found a regular cup and asked Varsha,"Is this one OK?"
She said,"Yes, that one is just fine,"
But then my desire was to get her the perfect cup and I knew that this cup would be a compromise,  so I searched high and low and found a cup closer to the size that Varsha likes.
When I took the third alternative to Varsha and asked her about it, I got a patient," I had said that the earlier cup was Ok, so why are you going on an exploration?"

Although it was said very patiently, I knew that my situation was not  all that hunky dory, as I could smell some smoke in the background. Honestly, my imagination was not running wild!
I said,"But the one that you said yes to, is actually  small, it only looks big, YOU can't make out"

I am still wondering why Varsha refused to have the cup of tea that I wanted to make for her.
I tell you, these women! You can never please them!