FOCUS ON ABILITY IN DISABILITY

It is long since I attended any live entertainment programme. So when my friend Alkesh Parajia, President of the Rotary Club of Mumbai Green City cajoled me into attending the captioned programme organized by the Rotary Club on 03 October 2017, in Bhaidas Hall, Vile Parle, Mumbai, I was more skeptical than thrilled. I anchored my thoughts with the usual routine of settling for buying the highest priced entry ticket and cooking some excuses for not attending the programme that would keep the organisers and me equally happy. But the smile, reinforced by the simplicity and sincerity of Alkesh was too strong to permit me to settle for this routine. So I decided to attend the programme. Frankly, I now feel his smile benefitted me.

Old habits dye hard.  Prompted by a childhood habit, I reached the venue well in advance, almost to the embarrassment of the organisers. I attended the programme ab initio.  It was a variety entertainment programme comprising the usual ‘bonanza’ of Hindi film songs, mimicry, instrumental music and one or two dances. The artists belonged to a group called Udan Foundation in Mumbai. The artists were all differently abled, most of them born blind!   Udan Foundation was established in 2005 by a couple of blind artists. So I had settled to witness a few songs of mediocre fineness mainly to be appreciated because it was performed by mortals of lesser ability. I was soon proved wrong!

The programme started with the song ‘Satyam, Shivam, Sundaram the title song of the popular Hindi film. The programme in essence was exactly this – it was truthful (satyam), divine (shivam) and beautiful (sundaram), the essence of godliness!   The song was rendered melodiously.

This was followed by the Mukesh song ‘Tarom me sajke’. It was touching to see the artist who was blessed with very limited vision holding his mobile almost touching his eyes to confirm the lyrics!

Though all the artists were differently abled mostly vision impaired, it was interesting to note that all of them selected songs tough and challenging for rendering.   I remembered an old saying “The tough gets going when the going gets tough”. The song that followed ‘Jhanak, jhanak payaliyaan’ was an illustration of this. The song was rendered with complete ease and melody.

The girl who was performing her debut on the stage stunned me with her rendering of Lata Mangesshkar ‘Piya tu se naina lage’. Two cheers to her!

The duet ‘mey na bhooloonga’ from Manoj Kumar’s Roti, Kapada aur Makaan was rendered unforgettably by two young artists! How could one forget the girl who got ‘trapped’ in the rhythm of the popular song of humorous lyrics ‘ye me kaisy fassy’? Even those with below par ears for song, could not easily by pass to note the energy level of the song ‘mey hoom jhoomroom, jhoomroom pakad’ rendered by Deepak’ one of the founders of Udan! Three cheers to Deepak!

I always have a soft corner for songs sung in chorus. May be this love for chorus germinates from the HR trainer in me. I believe that there is no substitute for teamwork to make our society a better place to dwell. They say; the lion is considered the King of the forest because the lions catch their prey through unmatched teamwork unlike the leopard and tiger that go solo! Coming back to the programme, I quite easily joined the chorus ‘mey chali, mey chali dekho pyar ki gali mey’.   Beautiful teamwork!

The two singers who chose to recite ‘the Mannade-Kishore dugal bandi ‘Ek chatur naar’ reinforced my conviction that the group never wanted to settle for easy songs. They always opted for challenge, which is the lesson they impart on the audience, loud and clear. Kudos to them. The example they set for the others was visible like an elephant inside a Mumbai Flat!

This was followed by the ‘jewel thief’ wonder sung by all the 10 vocalists in the group! Three cheers to them too! The mimicry that followed by the anchor of the group was not only appealing but also heartening! His anchoring mixing urdu sairees and humorous verses was a treat to one’s heart and intellect. The gymnastic excellence that followed exhibited on the pole by a dozen of young artists was breath taking. To receive training without the faculty of eyesight and do such daring acts in rhythm and unison is hard to believe! Kudos to this daring devils!

The intermission that followed gave me an opportunity to contemplate on the enormous amount of practice and rut these artists must have put in to convert their disability into ‘different ability’ before they could dare to take on the audience!

The duet ‘paradesiyaan, mey kahthi hum’ and the Marathi mix chorus that followed were just awesome! Seeing Satish who did not have his legs supporting him unlike you and me; dancing, shaking and moving to the tune of ‘suno bharat ke jhore wale, hamaare upar buri nazar na daalo’ sounded like challenging the audience not to envy him.

The song that followed ‘mere dol na sun; mere pyar ki geeth sun’ compelled one to listen not only to the singer’s pyar ki geeth but also her dol bajaye like sound! The flute recital by Kiran Vinkar that followed was a feast to one’s ears and heart. His proficiency to speak through his flute was amazing! It seemed that he could pronounce any word and sound through his flute!

The candle dance by a group of a baker’s dozen, kept everyone spell bound. The song, ‘ek dantaya; vakra tundaya, selected for the dance had befitting lyrics. Who, other than the ‘Vigneswara’ Himself could neutralize all the ‘Vignas’ and make this dance with fire on the forehead of the performers look like cakewalk for the artists?

As I observed earlier, I had a natural liking for songs sung in chorus.   The last item ‘Vandemataram’ probably composed by none other than Rehman and rendered in chorus by all the artists of the troupe was a masterpiece! One could not easily forget the lines, the movements, the spirit, the attitude and above all, the life that reverberated the Bhaidas Hall with the chorus. I love India and I could feel my hairs raising with awesome love for India! Thank you Udan!

I was told that Udan Foundation which presented the programme has grown from a ‘let-us-do-something’ group of a dozen artists in 2005 into a giant troupe of more than 60 differently abled youth filled with energy and fortitude. I am happy that I decided to witness and enjoy such a meaningful programme. I mentally thanked Alkesh my friend.

Service to humanity is not an end in itself; it is not a destination, it cannot be a purpose. It is a journey we perform with the whole society as co-passengers. Rotary Club Mumbai Green City has more than proved this when it chose to conduct a programme like this where the performers and the audiences were equal partners in enjoyment and benefits.

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Journey

I like to visit places.  I like to meet people.  I like to enjoy different environment, habitat, climate, flora and fauna, sounds of different birds, animals, nature and machines.  I like to see more people, more things, more life, more of everything. I enjoy every bit of these.  So, I should necessarily move. But, over time, I have come to hate the journey per se.  While planning a trip now, I opt for the fastest one, not because my time is precious, but because I want to remain with the moving ‘queen’ for the shortest time.

 

In my childhood days, during my travels by bus, I always stood by the window of the bus. I curiously, watched the World outside. From the moving bus, I could see trees, buildings and people moving back. I watched the distant trees revolving around, along with the horizon. When the bus stopped, I saw people outside, shorter than they were! I was in a different World. These wonderful, floating experiences are not there now. Have the trees become wiser? Has some body tied the horizon to the ground?

 

Now when I travel by bus, I find the objects and people inside and outside equally stationary and boring. So, I decide to slip into a blissful slumber immediately, hoping to set foot in my destination when I wake up. If my hope betrays, I start my favorite game – I start observing the milestones on the way.  I count every one of them possible.  I go on observing the balance distance to my destination.  With every change in the miles (or kilometers) I calculate the time it may take to reach the destination.  I am always in an urge to get out of the moving ‘comfort’.

 

I manage my journey by rail better than those by other modes. It is better than its counterparts. But it is only better. It is not enjoyable. Here too, I hate to sit with my back facing the direction of the train. This way, I feel I am being pulled backward or dragged into an avoidable mess. But, how could I avoid?

 

I visit the US almost every year now.  The urge to be with my son and daughter-in-law is compelling. But…? But I have to be on the ‘moving beauty’ for long hours. Journey by flight to US from India is where boredom peaks. The boredom reaches Everest height during the leg over the Atlantic, which accounts for the major portion of the flight.  My pastime in the flight is observing the flight status on the TV even in languages undecipherable and incomprehensible to me.  I observe the air speed, the ground speed, local time in the originating station, local time at destination, balance time to destination etc. with utmost keenness.  Despite the moving beauties in the deck, their tongue twisting etiquettes beauties and a host of aroma around, I go through only one emotion and urge, “Get Out”!

 

Oh! Here is the silver line, No! Golden line – my journeys by the ‘chuk – chuk’ gadi from Mumbai to Cochin in the seventies, formerly fuelled by coal and later on by diesel – the journey, which took 42 hours against the needed 25 hours! I liked these journeys because, I observed with awe, the train curling in a turn and vomiting smoke- some times into my face though. I talked to the people around, shared food with them, played cards, exchanged colossal lies, sang songs, shared jokes, played with children around, bargained with vendors selling local curios, got down at most stations, got into a different compartment to surprise my relations and friends, ate some thing from every major station, slept in the night peacefully, took down contacts of co-passengers, though did not contact any of them again & and. Those days, I looked forward to these journeys – they came around, rarely though.

 

Now, if at all I travel by train, it is in the cozy shell of AC.  I get into the train, start observing people around with disinterest, discomfort and sometimes suspicion or start my sleeping preparations right away or slide into my game of reading the balance time to destination with the train chart in my mobile!! Thus, here too I have got into my favourite travelling emotion “Get out, into the World”.

 

What has changed? Journey now is only a process of moving from one environment to another. Like the customer friendly gadgets and ready to eat recipes we want it strictly to ourselves in abject privacy and totally free of effort. Paradigms have shifted. I feel proud that there is nothing wrong with me. I have moved with the World! I like to visit places, visit them with the ease of drifting from one dream to another!

 

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Sheetal Means “Cool”

Sun shines, Stars twinkle, Moon moves; yet Sheethal remains cool!

Himalayas melt, volcano erupts, Earth quakes; yet Sheethal remains cool!

Elephants bellow, lions roar, tigers grown; yet Sheethal remains cool!

Emerald shines, crystals sparkle, gold glitters; yet Sheethal remains cool!

Tweeter puzzles, FB reminds, PC hangs; yet Sheethal remains cool!

Blockade springs, events slip, solutions fail; yet Sheethal remains cool!

Weather clouds, wind blows, thunder thuds; yet Sheethal remains cool!

Life rolls on, events speed, time flies; yet Sheethal remains cool as ever!!

Wishing you a Happy Birthday!

Anandam Paramaanandam

In the October heat of 2012, I received a communication from one Bhaktha Rasika Ranjani Sabha.   The Sabha did not mean anything to me.  But, by an old habit of reading whatever chance into my hand I read the notice.  It was an invitation to attend a violin concert by none other than Anand my grand nephew, in the PNK (Late Shri. P. N. Krishnamoorthy) memorial concerts.  The concert was in the Atomic Energy Centre School in Anusakti Nagar, Mumbai.  A few more artists other than Anand were to perform in the venue for two days on 3 and 4 November 2012.  My eyes remained glued only on the name of Anand, as despite my love for cine songs, carnatic classical remained Greek and Latin to me.  I carefully read the description of Anand given in the notice.

Thus read the notice:  “ Sri. Anand Viswanarhan is a very distinguished Vocalist cum Violinist.  He had his training in violin under Sri. N. Kannan and Smt. Sulochana Natarajan in BRR Sabha and later under Sri. R. Madhavan for advanced lessons.  A graded artist of AIR, Sri. Anand had won second prize in the AIR competition.  He has performed as an accompanist for several professionals in various parts of India and abroad.  His gurus for vocal are PNK and Smt. Jayalakshmi Subramanian.”

The notice started evoking interest in me.  I had heard many speaking high of his violin concert.  I decided to attend the concert.  Aparna my daughter and Narayanan Anna my elder brother too expressed interest.   We three reached the venue well on time but without prior intimation to any.  Viswom and Syamala, parents of Anand and Anand himself were visibly happy that we presented ourselves for the concert.  Savitha, Anand’s sister, too was bubbling.  Anand, with his ever winning smile with all the 32 exposed neatly told “I am speechless”.   My ego felt pampered.  I felt important.  But that floating feeling and proud weightlessness remained only for a few minutes.  For, soon the concert started.  I was dipped in pure music honey flowing from Anand’s violin!  I realized my folly of feeling important in the presence of such a gifted artist.  I keenly observed his right hand moving the bow on the violin and his left hand managing the string at the bottom of the violin both so effortlessly producing melodic music.  It was now my turn to become speechless!  But, unlike Anand, I was not speechless for a few moments.  I was speechless for ninety minutes starting from his traditional Kedara Goulai ragam to the Tillana.  I could experience Anand dipping the audience in the Ganga of Paramaanandam!!  Thank you Anand!!!

 

I visited Chardham; you please don’t!

I believe in God.  I believe in his omnipresence and omnipotence.  He controls our fate and makes us pay or enjoy for our deeds during the present and past births.  I have felt His presence during my daily routines as I have made it a point to thank him whenever something good happens to me, such as reaching kitchen from the phone just before the boiling milk spills or when the saucer falls down from my hand, but does not break!  I believe that I should correct my sins during this and previous births by using my free will to do good things now.

I believe in His balancing act.

I believe in temples.  I have visited many of the popular temples in Kerala.  I have also visited many known temples in most of the states in India.  I belong to Poonjar, a small village in Eastern Ghats of Kottayam district in Kerala.  I have spent my childhood in the banks of Meenachil River, daily visiting the Dharma Sastha and Meenakshi-Sundaresan temples there.  I left Poonjar for Mumbai on 4 July 1969.  Visiting these two temples near my home in Poonjar even today gives me a feeling of being in the care and company of God!

I believe in God and temples.  But I am more comfortable being spiritual than religious.

I recently undertook a pilgrimage to Chardham – Yamnotri, Gangotri, Kedarnath and Badrinath.  There were 22 people in our group, mostly senior citizens.  We all belonged to the same neighborhood in Lokhandwala Complex, Andheri, Mumbai.  We all knew each other.  Many of us remained friends for many years.  We enjoyed being in company.  But still I did not know why I was there in this trip.

May be I was there to fill the bus.

Our trip was coordinated and conducted by Panickers travels in Delhi.  Panickers have been conducting such tours for more than 50 years now.  We traveled from Mumbai to Delhi by Rajadhani Express on 04 June 2012.  On 05 June we proceeded to Haridwar straight from the railway station after enjoying a brief hospitality of the Panickers in their guest house.  Our pilgrimage started with the darsan of Ganga Aarthy in Haridwar at 6-30 PM.  That night we stayed in Haridwar.

During our journey I saw many other pilgrims from Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh.  Many I saw or met were also senior citizens.  Many seemed to have come in search of peace of mind and the eternal moksha enjoying every possible worldly attachment!  I was a bit happy that I was blank and was unsure of myself.

In a way I was in a mood to finish this episode and be back in the comfort of my dinginess in Mumbai.

The Himalayan Mountains were more imposing, huger and taller than I had imagined.  In them, I found serenity equipoise with majesty.  They were beautiful and inviting at the same time they give even the strongest first time visitor acrophobia.

The roads to Chardham were cut through these mountains.  We traveled in a 27 seated minibus.  When traveling in the mini-bus, I could see many folds of roads downhill or uphill which we have traveled or we were going to travel.   Most part of the roads was under repair or under construction.  Though many such buses were plying there, I felt that these mini-buses were unsafe and not cut out for those roads.  More than a few occasions when our bus was negotiating a difficult curve I was caught in a catch 22 situation when I found the nature’s bounty so rich I wanted to be there perennially but I felt so close to death and wanted to run to the safe haven of my home.

I wondered whether God really wanted me to travel in a minibus to Himalayas!

On our way to Janakichatty, the base camp for Yamnotri, we crossed Yamuna seven or eight times, climbing up and climbing down seven mountains, because Yamuna flowed like necklaces to these mountains!   We went through the fete again when we visited Gangotri and again when we visited Kedarnath.  Each time the mountains were different in names but not much so in geography.  While negotiating a few curves on the road, I could here a few in our bus chanting the ‘panchakshara’ with devotion propelled by fear!

The approach to life of the service providers is deplorable.  I do not know whether to call it risk bearing capacity or just casualness.  I remember the poet’s words that ‘life is like a bubble’.  I could really ‘feel’ these words here.  To cap it all, medical facilities is grossly lacking.  Ambulance is something unheard of in this place.  Vehicles will not move after sunset!  Do you feel like chanting panchakshara as you read this?!  You are on your right path!

The road from Janakichatty to Yamnotri is not motorable.  We had to choose from walking, horse riding or being carried in a dolly.  In Janakichatty, we were welcomed by a crowd of horsemen, and dolly carriers vying to get us booked.  I felt for a moment that even God will not be able to save me from these ‘service providers’ until we were ‘booked’.  They made the place unholy.

The distance of five kilometers from Janakichatty to Yamnotri is very steep.  The road was narrow at about 8 to 10 feet.  Like any other mountain road, on one side of the road were the mountains and on the other, the valley.  At many places the valley was more than 1000 feet deep!  This narrow road was being used by pedestrians, horses and dolly carriers all at the same time and traveling in both the directions!  The road was filthy with horse dung and etcetera.

I missed God there because I knew cleanliness is Godliness!

The Yamuna Matha temple was small, crowded, and ill kept.  I could stand in front of the Yamuna Matha for a few seconds.  I did not get the feel of God as I could not relate with the idol.  I thought, many from the Southern part of India must have felt so.  The priests did not allow God a chance!  I found lot of money in front of the temple.  Money offered to God which never reached Him!

Basic facilities were lacking in the temple premises.  Nobody seemed to be worried as I felt everyone was per-occupied with the fear of reaching down safely!  At least I was.  I closed my eyes prayed to Poonjar Dharmasastha.  I felt better.

The whole place was managed or better said, mismanaged, by a few private trusts.  Police force was conspicuous by their absence.  Horses and people were pushing each other to bid good bye to the place.  One lady from our group fainted in the crowd.  We managed to bring her down.

I prayed to Yamuna Matha to pardon me for visiting her!

After a day’s travel through mountains and some rest we proceeded to Gangotri.  Gangotri was cleaner and better managed.  The bus goes up to the temple.  People were seen to be more at peace!  I prayed to Ganga Mayya.  I did not know whether she was there!

The next day we proceeded to Kedarnath.  We passed through same type of roads, same type of mountains, same type of valleys, same type of emotions as our visit to Yamnotri and Gangotri!  I stopped my journey at Sitapur, the valley of Kedarnath.  To cut a long story short I called it a day finished my Chardham Yatra.

Looking back I felt the Himalayas and the temples there are much deeper in spirits and hold too strong and positive vibrations for ordinary people like me to receive.  Peace of mind and Moksha is not available for the asking.  We have to earn it!  I knew a few souls who went to Himalayas at very young age, surrendered themselves totally and got transformed into holy Sanyasis.  They became devoted Gurus to serve the mankind.  Chinmayanada, Sri Sri, Maharishi Yogi, Satya Sai Baba are only a few who flash into my mind.

According to Hindu mythology, king Bhagiratha did thousands of years penance to bring down Ganga from the Heavens and equal amount of penance to get Ganga released from Lord Shiva’s locks.  All the four places of Chardham namely Yamnotri, Gangaotri, Kedarnath and Badrinth have their own stories of sacrifice and determination.  These are places for the ultimate seekers or seekers who seek the ultimate, who do nothing but seek, seek and seek after totally surrendering to the vibrations there!  These are not places for casual visit by ordinary people, that too in the evenings of their life in search of moksha.  Let us not fool ourselves.

I was there to fill the bus so that the trip could materialize.  To me the place was filled with fools like me.  Let me offer my prayers to Poonjar Dharmasastha if my thoughts or words carry unintended message to anyone.  Swami Saranam!!

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Over the Western Clouds

Our tour to Europe

On the March Equinox of 2011, Anoop, my son and Shraddha, my daughter-in-law, invited me to join the celebrations of the 30 Years of Art of Living being held in Berlin, Germany on 2 and 3 July 2011 and thereafter to spend some time in the US with them. I promptly declined with my usual ‘I have miles to go before I sleep’ mindset. Later on they came with a revised proposal of their coming to India for a fortnight plus, pick up Aparna and me for the AoL program, as also a short tour of Switzerland and Germany and at the end of it pack us back to Mumbai. The proposal was too irresistible. So, on the night of 24th June 2011, we flew over the western clouds from Mumbai to Munich.

Switzerland
We reached Munich, Germany in the morning of 24 June. From Munich the four of us hired a car for 11 days and drove for more than six hours to Interlaken, Switzerland. The place was clean, beautiful and inviting. Next day morning, Anoop and I took a stroll through the banks of Lake Thunersee. There after our foursome, started for Jungfrau, the snow covered Alpine mountain at a height of 13,642 feet.

Jungfrau
Jungfrau mountain is called the “Top of Europe”.  We traveled by the mountain train changing trains at Kleine Scheidegg. At the “Top of Europe” we saw various animal statues made of ice in the ice palace, played with snow and enjoyed the cool breeze. We saw clouds below us as also their shadow on the ground! We saw Para gliders below us. We saw a few cuckoos singing and pecking food. We had our lunch in a restaurant on top. The presence of the Bollywood restaurant on top of the hill speaks for the large number of Indians touring the Alps. At sun set at 9 PM we reached back our apartment.

Schilthorn

On 26 June, we went to Schilthorn, another mountain peak. We went uphill by train and cable car. We had our lunch in “Piz Gloria” on top of the hill, the first revolving restaurant in the world. The restaurant was powered by solar energy.  We decided to hike down a part of our return journey. We hiked from Murren to Grutschalp which took us about 90 minutes. Hiking through the Alpine trails is a favorite tourist attraction. There are over 500 kilometers of marked foot path at different altitudes. I was told that in the interest of tourism, hikers have been given their right of path even through private land! In the evening we strolled through the banks of Lake Thunersee.

Trummelbach waterfall

On 27 June, we visited the Trummelbach waterfall in Lauterbrunnen, the valley of 72 waterfalls. Trummelbach waterfall is formed by the glacier melt of the three peaks, the Eiger, Monsch, and Jungfrau. Here the force of water falling down is so strong that it has changed the shapes of the rocks through which it falls. The sweet water perennially drains into the lakes down. We again traveled to the mountains by cable way mainly to enjoy another bout of hiking from Mannlichen to Kleine Scheidegg, and from Kleinecheidegg to Wengernalp which took us about 150 minutes. En route we saw many Holstein cows which was one of the best breeds in the world. The sound of the bells hung from their necks provided good music soothing the hikers! We did a little window shopping in Wengen.

Back to Munich, Germany

Hohenschwangau and Neuschwanstein castles

It was now time for us to bid farewell to the beauty of Switzerland and proceed to Munich, Germany. Today the 28 June will be spent on driving and a visit to two castles en route announced our meticulous Event Manager – Anoop. We started at about 9 AM from our apartment. On the way we saw the Hohenschwangau castle. The castle was first built in the twelfth century, destroyed by Napoleon and rebuilt in 1830 by King Maximillian II. We also visited the castle Neuschwanstein built by King Ludwig II. The king built the castle taking 17 years and finally could live in it for just 172 days when he died. He was later known as the Mad King. These Kings belonged to the Wittelsbach family which ruled Bavaria, Germany for about seven centuries!
We reached our apartment in Milbertshofen, Munich in the night of 28 June 2011. The apartment was centrally located and was very convenient.

Glockenspiel

On 29 we visited the Marienplatz or Mary’s square. We were on time to see the Glockenspiel or Cuckoo clock striking 12.00 PM.  This clock is more than 100 years old. When the clock strikes 12 o’clock, 32 life size figures make different moves to give thread for a complete story. The action recreates a royal wedding. The newly wedded duke and duchess watch the Bavarian soldiers killing enemies followed by the scene of a group of dancers dancing on the street. The clock was maintained well and performed with amazing perfection. I was reminded of the ‘Methan Mony’ in front of the Sreepadmanabha temple in Trivandrum.

Munich Residence

We then visited the Residenzmuseum or the Palace museum which is also called the Munich Residence. This was the home of the Wittelsbach kings. The rich furniture, crockery, and kitchen wares of the olden times were maintained with meticulous care and concern. Later in the evening, we visited the St Michel’s church and the St. Peter’s church in Marienplatz.

If it is 30 June ….
On 30 June our programme was slightly disturbed due to rain. We were to visit the Dachau concentration camp in the morning which we had to postpone. It was interesting to note that this was the only deviation we made in our tour plan for 11 days which was so meticulously drawn out by Anoop. Probably the weather forecast for Munich was not available a month before when the plan was drawn by him! I remember an old film I saw which had the title “If it is Tuesday, it must be Belgium.” Likewise before we started our journey from Mumbai, Anoop could tell ‘if it is 7.30 PM on 28 June we will be parking our car near our apartment in Munich. Such was the fine prints of the plan. Of course he was ably assisted by Shraddha in the execution of the plan.

BMW car factory

We started our day leisurely as our only schedule for the day was a visit to the BMW car factory. Anoop drives a BMW. He is a little short of married to it. The visit to the factory was quite rewarding for me. The work shop was maintained as clean as our drawing room in Mumbai. The painting and assembly workshops were 97 percent automated and the engine workshop 48 percent. You could see people working only to give final touches to the cars. There were more than 600 robots working everything to perfection. To me it appeared that the different parts of the robots moved with more ease and versatility than human beings. Almost every car was made to the individual choice of the buyer who had booked it. A whole car could be made in just 40 hours, including 18 hours of painting processes! Every day about 800 cars are made in the factory. You could watch a new car rolling out of the factory every 90 seconds. . I was amazed by the eye for detailing and the meticulous planning process. We sat in the many cars exhibited in the reception area. The visit was quite good.
Dachau concentration camp

On 01 July, we proceeded to Berlin to watch the ‘World Culture Festival’ being conducted to celebrate 30 years of the Art of Living, the main reason and motive for our visit. We started our day early as we had to catch up with what the rain deprived us yesterday, namely; our visit to the Dachau concentration camp. The visit to the camp could bring back memories of the history books I had read in my school days. “Never again” read a board near some art work which I did not understand. A visit to the camp is made compulsory for every school student before completion of schooling. We had a late dinner at the Calcutta restaurant in Berlin.

The German autobahns

A highlight of the trip was driving in Germany, especially on the German autobahns (High Way). Speed limits were observed quite strictly. There are sections of the autobahn where there are no speed limits, where skilled motorists and fast cars attain unbelievable speeds. Even in our fully loaded SUV we were able to go as fast as 185 km/h. Almost all drivers, of course including ours, were incredibly disciplined. Slower traffic stayed in the slow lanes, and all were giving way to faster traffic promptly. No one was seen overtaking from the wrong side.

What I could not see!

In both Switzerland and Germany, I sort of ‘missed’ many things I regularly see in India. I could not see people spitting in public, people littering public places, motorists parking cars like vegetables kept in your refrigerator. I could not see the honking invitation”Horn OK please” behind trucks, I could not see any vehicle overtaking from wrong side; I could not see motorists throwing trash from running limousines. I could not see a speeding car suddenly slowing down to throw beer bottles to the road side. I could not see ‘rich’ masters bringing their prestigious breeds of pet dogs to ease on the foot paths! Believe me; I could not almost see anyone using their mobile phone in public places! I could not see spit on staircases. Though there were plenty of liquor parlors, I could not see any one performing liquor dance on the street or sleeping to eternal bliss on the road side. I could not see foot paths becoming shops.

What I realize

I realized that people in that part of our planet had civic sense. They did not grant themselves the freedom to be irresponsible. They believed that ‘your freedom ends where the other man’s freedom begins’! I realized that it will take a decade or two for us to ‘fly over the western clouds’. Until then we shall remain under their clouds.

The Prasad

When you visit a temple in India, you receive some Prasad from the priest as a token of the divine blessings. I too received my Prasad at the end of the tour. The Prasad of witnessing the ‘World Culture Festival’ on 02 and 03 July 2011, celebrating the ’30 years of Art of Living.  The program was planned and executed with lot of care, concern, love, feel good emotion, positive energy and above all in an air of spirituality. The programme included a conglomeration of the sample of society life of more than 150 countries where AoL is now practiced. People belonging to different culture performed dances and songs with unbelievable energy and synergy. Present and yesteryear rulers of different countries and religions gave felicitations and praised the peace building efforts of AoL.

I have used the term ‘Global Village’ on many occasions. But first time, I saw one in front of me. I saw differences between races and religions melting away in front of me. What else you feel when 2000 armature dancers from Bulgaria danced in unison, 1000 dancers from Poland danced to a reverberating tune, 1000 guitarists from different countries performed together without rehearsal, 30 pianists from different countries played together five tunes, 800 African Djembe drummers made the spectators standing and clapping, 1000 from Argentina danced and made the 40000 strong spectators to sing their ‘Krishna’ and ‘Ganesa’ rock music in chorus, 800 yogis drawn from all over the world doing Surya namaskar in perfect rhythm and unison, more than 100 Indian dancers dancing bare footed in the rain in the open stadium at freezing temperature, more than a dozen artists from Russia performing Bale on the wet floor. I saw Guruji serene and ever smiling leading 40000 children of all ages into Basthrika and meditation. AoL! I salute thee! Jai Gurudev!

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TRINITY AND TRUTH

On Monday 27 September 2004 I visited the Bhool Bhuliaiah in Lucknow along with Aparna, my daughter.  I had visited this place earlier too.  It never impressed me in the past.  It will not impress me today.  But this is one of the monuments in this city of Nawabs.  People visit this place invariably for reasons not known to them.  Hence we too were here.

I got down from our black Santro.  I spread my legs to giggle out of my lethargy.  I closed them soon as my daughter has always objected to this method of recalling my energy.  I lifted my hands to wriggle out of the sluggishness, suggesting to myself ‘Touch the Sky’.  That is my way of transformation from passiveness into activeness.  You are free to follow your own scheme.  We are in a country, which offers the maximum freedom in the world!

Suddenly I felt surrounded by people whom I felt like avoiding, but I wanted to use.  They were the so-called ‘Guides’ to take us through the ‘Bhool Bhuliaiah’.  To me they seemed to want to trap us to get out of their own trap of life – the trap of having got lost in the traffic island of life where only amber lights were flicking, suggesting you decide you own direction.  They ignore the lights trying to outsmart them.  They ignore the signs of man-made Gods!  They think they outsmart the Gods.  The Gods knew they were fools!

They cheat people; people cheat them.  Finally either both feel cheated or both feel triumphed, or one feels cheated and the other feels triumphed.  I felt cheated.  Or heart of heart I wanted to be cheated.  I told myself “I am a middle class fool.”  I feel proud amidst all the cheatings.  That is life!

‘Touch the Sky’ I told again, stretching myself.  Suddenly I noticed a horse cart approaching the vicinity.  Something about the cart caught my attention.  I could not make up my mind.  Is it the rhythm of the horse, which always has attracted me?   Or is it the beauty of the cart, which was godly, decorated?   After a moment I realized that it is the horse itself that attracted my attention.  It was looking at me.  Oh! Why I said ‘It’?  Later on I realized that this horse was much above a mere ‘It’.

The rhythm of the cart caught my eyes.  I looked at the cart.  I observed nothing special.  I could not make out why I was looking at it.  I looked at the horse.  It was a she horse.  What do you call her? A mare?  I was not bothered about the language.  I decided to call her Trinity.  I did not know why.  Is she a reflection of myself in the mirror of life?  I enjoyed the name!

I looked at Trinity.  She was running walkingly; or walking runningly?  Whatever she did, there was a grace about it, but she got her regular whips.  She never seemed to know why she got those whips.  The cart-man too never seemed to know why he gave those whips!

I tried to look at her eyes.  As a trainer I knew eye contact was important for communication.  I tried to look into her eyes.  She looked into mine.  She appeared to be a more versatile communicator than me!  I felt her eyes were sad.  I turned my eyes away from hers.  Poor communication, I realized!  But then I could not meet sad eyes for long – sad, as I perceive.

I looked at the movements of her body as she was pulling the cart.  I saw the movements of her legs.  Slowly I saw her blood stained legs.  I observed her.  I studied her.  She had slightly deformed hinge and forelegs.  As she ran, her right and left legs rubbed each other.  This was the case in the forelegs and the hinge legs.  The problem was more acute on the hinge legs, though.

Her legs were rubbing each other on the knee.  The skin on the knee had completely gone.  She was not bleeding.  Probably this was happening for many days!  Did she have any blood to bleed?  The wounds were wet.  They bore the color of fresh blood.  They looked fresh, though they were not.  The wounds looked liked four tomatoes pasted to her legs!  Four tomatoes beautiful to see, but painful to hold!

The cart stopped.  I looked at her eyes again.  Do they convey anything special?  She looked at me; not just looked, something deeper than that.  The carter asked me “Sahib, Challenge, kya?  (Are you coming) I told him:  “Nahi tho! (No, please!).  I mustered enough courage – though I am a born coward, and dared him: “Your horse is bleeding, didn’t you not notice?  He replied “Sahib, koi dikkat nahi, baidho.”  (No problem, you are welcome to my cart.)  I looked at the horse, she looked at me again.  She frequently moved her feet to ward off the flies from her wounds.  I told the carter “Hamey nahi baidhna hi.”  ( I do not want to come in our cart).  But I looked at the inviting eyes of Trinity.

I prayed to almighty.  Please enable me to understand Trinity.  Let me touch her heart.  For once, I sincerely wanted my prayer to be answered.  Normally while praying I always had a fear.  The fear of my prayer being answered!  I had always wondered if He appeared in front of me, what I will ask for.  I was never clear about what I wanted in life.  But for a change now, I was.  I wanted to totally identify with my new friend.  I prayed sincerely.  “Oh Lord! Oh Lordess!  Let me understand Trinity.  Bring her into me.  Bring Trinity into me!”

To my utter surprise I saw Goddess Saraswathy – the goddess of learning – right in front of me.  She never asked me what I want.  She knew my problem of not knowing what I want!  She told me “I know you want to speak to Trinity.  For the next two minutes, you can speak her language and you can understand her.”  I was thrilled.  But I realized I had only two minutes.  I wanted to ask for more time.  But she was gone in a jiffy!

I had lot of things to ask Trinity.  I wanted to empathize with her.  I wanted to hug her.  I wanted to melt into her.  I wanted to tell her “I want you: I love you.”  There was no much time.  I had just two minutes.  I looked into her eyes.  I wanted to ask her “Do your legs pain you?  Did you lose much of your blood?  How can I punish the cruel man who makes you pull the cart when you are not fit?  Can I relieve you for a few days by paying him what he wants?  Does he give you suitable medicines?  Does he give you enough to eat?  Is he cruel to you?  How can I help you?  Can I take some of your pain?  Do you really want this life?  Do you enjoy this life?

But alas! These were things, which I wanted to ask her.  But I never asked.  I just looked into her eyes.  I got lost there.  I got lost into the serenity of the look!  She looked into my eyes.  I knew by now we had only less than a minute to communicate.  I put my arms around her long face.  I did not like her smell.  But I loved her innocence.  I felt the warmth of pure love.  I physically touched her eyes with my eyes.  That was my way of creating eye contact!  I just asked her “How do you feel?”  She smiled.  She whispered into my ears No! Into my heart “Life is beautiful.”  “Oh! What about the pain?”  The pain, which has become part of your life?  I asked.  She told “The pain? Which pain?  “Which part of my life?”  Do you mean the pain in my life or the life in my pain?”  She whispered into me again “I enjoy the life in my pain; I enjoy the pain in my life! Life is Beautiful.”  Our two minutes were over.  But I learnt my lesson: ‘Amidst all pains, Life is Beautiful: Live it.’

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Kalu

I am Kalu.  For quite some time I did not know why I am called Kalu.  Do you know why you got the name you have?  I do not think you know.  We get names that someone else loved.  I too got my name like that.

I am a bullock.  I am pure white in color.  I am a pure white Kalu (Black)!  My cousin Salu is three years older than me.  He is now no more.  No! He is today no more!  I knew yesterday that he would be no more today!  He too knew it!!

I joined my master and Salu four years back as a two-year-old bullock.  I came to know from Salu that he joined my master nine years ago as a one-month-old calf.  His only duty at that time was to play with my master’s children especially, Sailesh his son.  Life was so beautiful for Salu!

For the first two years Salu only ate and played.  His master ran his fingers over his body almost every day.  They loved each other so much, or that is what Salu thought.  Viswom is our master.  Viswom would not spend a single day without sharing some time with Salu.  Viswom has a son called Sailesh.  Sailesh had the nick name Salu.  That became Salu bullock’s full name.  I think I got my name Kalu so that it rhymes with Salu’s name.  Salu had no surname.  So also, I too have no surname.  Since we did not have surnames we never filed our income tax returns.  Otherwise we did earn the income to be in the tax net.

Salu and I loved our master Viswom.  We loved him as much as we loved each other and ourselves.  We went for work together in the field.  Viswom is a hard worker and a taskmaster.  He made us too to work hard.  He enjoyed it.  We had to enjoy it!

Our master whipped us when we showed laziness.  Later he moved his fingers over our whip marks.  He gave us a part of his food.  I did not enjoy the food.  But I enjoyed the way he gave it to me.  He gave it with love – lot of love.  How can I refuse to be loved, especially when I know that only he loved me in this world?

In the evenings we went back home together from the field.  Viswom had the habit of honking.  I was sure of my route back home.  So was Salu.  We always walked at a steady and even pace.  But our master just honked with his wide mouth “Kcrreue, drerrrr, Hoy! Hoy! Hoy!”  If this is not honking, what is it?

On the way back home when we reached ‘The Suzuki Toddy Shop’ he usually tied us together.  The shop had the picture of two Sumo wrestlers enjoying toddy! – Real big figures.  I knew our master was going for his quota of toddy.  I liked the smell of toddy.  I am very fond of it.  But I never got to taste it.  But the aroma was enough for me.  In the aroma filled atmosphere Salu and I licked each other.  We smiled to ourselves.  The day’s work is over.  We are going back home.  Further way back from the Suzuki, we got no whips, we heard no honking.  At this time sometimes our master would speak to us.  But we knew we could ignore him safely.

We usually reached home by about 7.00 pm.  This was the golden time for Salu and me.  All at home ignored Viswom.  He mostly spent his time with us, running his hands over our body.  I enjoyed seeing Salu enjoying the caressing of his master’s fingers.  Salu stood there with his face turned 45 degrees to one side, and his long tail lifted slightly.  I was always jealous of Salu’s tail.  I felt my master loved Salu more than he loved me.  Oh no! Poor value system, Kalu! Jealousy is not good – I told myself.

On some days, at this time, my master would stand near Salu, lean over him completely and slowly sleep on the back of Salu.  Suddenly the call for food for my master would come.  He would then lift his head and in that half awaken state would take us to our shed.  He would fondly give us our dinner ration and retreat to his dining pati.

Our master would sleep, we would sleep, and we knew the entire village would sleep to get up to the call of the Sun god in the morning next day.  Every day the Sun rises.  I enjoyed the crimson red Sun glowing into our shed.  The morning silence gives way to the chirping of many birds.  I did not understand why these birds have to start shouting as soon as they wake up.  Should we always announce to the world that “I have woken up so it is time for everyone else to get up?”  Don’t others have their freedom to decide what they want?  Silly birds!  I thought, despite the long words of praise of the poets about this.

I remembered a story I heard in my child hood.  Once upon a time, a lion and a tiger met in a riverbank for taking water.  The tiger quipped to the lion “Arey yar! Why you always go on roaring?  Why don’t you keep quiet?  Does silence cost you anything?  The lion replied “No my dear, it pays to advertise.  Others should realize that I am around.  It will beget peace in and around the place.”  So it pays to advertise.  A rabbit was listening to this conversation.  He liked the idea.  He thought he should also follow this.  The next day he got up and started moving around shouting.  Soon a fox heard his sound.  The fox had a good breakfast!  It pains to advertise.  I heard the story when I was very young.  Someone should tell this to the birds so that the birds would realize that silence is golden.

Nobody told this story to the birds.  So they continue to chirp to announce the arrival of another day.  The routine continued.  Only the nature of work for the day changed.  Life is so beautiful!  Every day comes up with a promise of full engagement!  No time to take rest until the toddy shop aroma arrives.  I enjoyed it, so too Salu, I suppose.

Days passed.  So did weeks and months.  Years followed.  Salu became old for work.  His work out put reduced.  The long tail, which I was once jealous of, lost the hairs on it.  His horns became crooked.  Age has its own ways of announcing.

Many days Salu got more whips than I got.  He was helpless.  Desire to work was strong.  But the body did not cooperate.  Back home my master and the toddy in him started caressing me more than Salu.  Salu and I knew the family of my master was discussing some retirement plans for Salu.

Suddenly things changed.  My master’s son Sailesh was to get engaged.  He would marry a beauty of his choice.  The whole family was in high spirits on this count.  The occasion approached fast bringing merriment everywhere.  Large sounds echoed the surroundings.  Preparations were going on.  Salu was overwhelmed at the joy of his master.  Hi master no more had the time to caress Salu’s body.  But he understood the predicament of his master.

The day of engagement came nearby.  By now we understood every word of what was being talked.  For many years we have listened to the human language.  I myself listened to it for six years.

Discussions were going on about the arrangements for the wedding engagement of Sailesh.  The menu was being discussed.  Did I hear the name of Salu in the discussion about the menu?  I did not, I wished!  I did, told my ears!  I did. Can you believe?   Salu and my master lived together for nine long years and worked together for seven years!  Four years I witnessed it.  Now, Alas! Salu is being discussed as part of the menu for his son’s wedding!  I felt the toddy aroma entering my head.  I bent my knee and lay on the floor.  For a change I rested my head on the ground and not on my body.  I felt more comfortable that way.  I recollected the whips, the caressing after that, the honking, the toddy aroma, the master leaning on Salu and dosing, the call for food, the ration he gave us, the good night he wished us.  But now I hear Salu’s name coming in the discussion of menu for tomorrow.  Salu is part of the menu – honorably sitting on the dining plates in pieces!

I looked at Salu.  He was calm and quiet.  I got up.  I moved near to Salu.  I licked him.  I whispered into his ears “Did you hear that?” He told, “I did, Life is so beautiful! “We are servants.  Servants should serve masters!  Life is beautiful!”  We slept, to be woken up by the chirping of the birds.  I thought, let the birds chirp.  I did not feel like objecting to anything.

The crimson red Sun arrived.  It was the marriage engagement day of Sailesh, who gave Salu his name.  Many people were around – children too.  One child was playing with a mirror.  He was trying to reflect the sunlight into whomsoever he could focus.  The light reached my eyes too.  It was irritating.  Who cares?  All were busy.  Slowly the child changed his game.  He approached me with the mirror.  He held it in front of me.  I saw my image in the mirror.  But I did not understand that t it was I.  I had never seen myself.  I thought I saw Salu in the mirror!

Slowly I saw Salu being led by his rope to an unknown destination.  The boy covered my eyes with the mirror in front of me.  I was forced to be busy looking at myself!  I craned my neck to have a last glimpse of Salu.  He did not look at me.  But he was smiling.  Life is beautiful!!  He walked without emotions.  He walked into the dining plates of about 200 people celebrating his master’s son’s wedding engagement!  ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Only one animal can do this.  Befittingly, he doesn’t like to be called an animal!

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To Poonjar with SKRI Clan

Author’s Note

My father is no more. His name was S. Kodandarama Iyer.  He used the short name “SKRI” for his name.  When I say he used the short name ‘SKRI’, I really mean it, for he used to put this in every possible place and every of his possessions. We lived in Poonjar, a village in Kottayam district in Kerala, India. The SKRI family consisted of my father, his wife and 13 children. With subsequent generations, now this family has grown to more 120 members. We are typically a cosmopolitan family spread in different parts of not only India but also the World. The bondage between the members, especially the second and third generations is sweet, soft, but loosely tied with ‘Hi’s and Bye’s! In order to fasten the members with stronger bonds, we started a Google group which we named “SKRI Clan”. I am the administrator of this group.

I like Rajanikanth. I like his acting. I like his approach to his profession, doing one picture in about two years. He puts the entire himself in that movie and mostly than otherwise leads a hit! This is a kind of management approach of “Keep all your eggs in one basket and fasten it to your life!” But yet, I am not a Rajani fan.

I have seen most of the Rajanikanth movies. I saw ‘Enthiran’ (Robot) on 2 October 2010, that is to say, one day after it was released. I liked it. I liked many shots in the film. I liked Rajani’s movements in the film. The ease with which he makes movements of Chitty, the robot is amazing. After I saw the movie, many scenes in the movie kept on coming back to me. I started seeing the possibility of robots doing anything and everything for man. As suggested in the film, I started believing that a robot with emotion is a possibility and the result of it could be limitless, good or bad? I refuse to want to know! I started seeing robot in many places and in many situations.

This is perhaps the best time in India. I mean the few months starting from the month of September. A host of festivals, marriages and other celebrations make everyone happy. Onam, Ramzan, Sreenarayana Guru Jayanthi, Gandhi Jayanthi, Ganapathy, Dessera, Navarathri, Deepavali, X’ mas and the like compete with one another to carry us on the road of enjoyment, entertainment, exhilaration and ecstasy.

I decided to visit Kerala as part of my enjoyment. Band or hartal, I love Kerala. In Kerala, I thought, I would visit Poonjar, though I did not have any special work to do. I love Poonjar because it is the only place I get to listen to the sound produced by the movement of the leaves of the banyan tree; this is the only place I listen to shrill sound of the cricket. I hear different birds. I see many small shrubs and grasses with which I played half a century ago. While walking here, I hear the sound produced by my own footwear. I hear the sound of the PTMS bus. When I pass through the road by the side of Kannath Parambu, the royal cemetery I repetitively experience the same unique fear which I experienced 50 years back. In Poonjar, I hear the river giggling. I see fishes in the river. I get the smell of the sweat of workers. I hear colloquial words and phrases which I have not used for years. I see pairs of searching eyes leaving the chase after meeting mine. I see friendly thamburatees (Royal Ladies) with speaking eyes and shut mouths. Here, I get the smell of earth. I like to see the centipede I dislike. I hear my own heart beating while climbing the rough granite steps which I had ran through ‘n’ number of times. I feel that the temple wall and the granite steps have grown smaller! I feel big. I see child hood. I see me.

I started my packing to go to Poonjar. Reghu and Varun desired to join me. Venu suggested that it was too late to start as on the way a bridge is under repair and so we should perhaps start on the next day. But we decided to start immediately! We wanted some thrill!
Due to incessant rain we got delayed. Leave alone one bridge, the entire length of the road was under repair. Finally we reached the bridge under repair. It was night and we had to cross a narrow make-shift bridge to reach home. I felt a slow wave of fear entering my system. I remembered Venu’s words. For no reason, I suddenly remembered the robot. The Omni potent robot, the robot with emotion – the ultimate robot!

Reghu, Varun and I were making preparations to walk through the bridge. We had one torch with us. We were on the move when to my utter bewilderment; I saw a human robot blocking our way. I was filled with fear, so too I guess, were the other two with me. We were ready to run away when the robot surprised us with a smoothening greeting. It told in a low but clear voice. “You three would like to cross over, Ah? I too am waiting. Unfortunately I do not have a torch. I was waiting for someone to join. Thank you for coming. Can I join you?”
We felt more at ease now as it appeared that the robot was a friendly one. We quickly started planning and talking:

Me : “We have a torch, we all could cross over easily”
The robot: “It is not so easy: this bridge is weak and could take only two at a time and otherwise it may collapse. We do not have the same speed too. Let us assume that I will take 10 minutes to cross over; you will need 5 minutes, Reghu would take 2 minutes and Varun would need just one minute to cross the bridge.”
Me: “Oh! No problem, I can ask our smart gun Varun to show the light for each one by turn.”
I made some loud thinking: If Reghu goes with Varun first and Varun comes back they will take 3 minutes, later I shall go with Varun and Varun comes back which will add 6 more minutes and finally the robot and Varun will go together taking 10 minutes. Oh! That means together we will take 19 minutes.

Reghu: “No, No. No. there is a better way. We can do it faster.”
We all listened while Reghu told his plan: “First I will go with Varun and Varun will stay back and I come back, thus totally we will take 4 minutes. Then the robot and Chandrappa will go together and that will take 10 minutes. That makes 14 minutes so far. Then Varun, who would be on the other side, will come back and I will go with him taking another 3 minutes. Thus the total time taken will be only 17 minutes!”
Me: “That is the magic of participation. “Reghu, that shows your leadership qualities. By sharing Varun’s work you have increased productivity of the team! Participation is the management mantra to keep any system floating and kicking too!”

We crossed over and were now walking towards home. I observed the robot more closely. It was made of so many bubbles like shapes all over its body, like the ones you find in the Nettipattom covering the forehead and part of the trunk of a decorated elephant. Out of sheer curiosity I enquired of the robot: “Why do you have the bubble shapes all over your body? It’s rather …”
The robot: Don’t make fun of my bubbles! They are my life line. My existence depends on them. Each one is so deer to me and each has a distinct name and a distinct style! Don’t you see mainly three different sizes of bubbles?”
I said: “Yes, so what?”
The robot: The biggest ones have names like, Mani, Balan, Appukkuttan, Narayanan, Radha, Meena etc. Collectively, I call them Be-one bubbles. The slightly smaller ones are called Be-Twos. They too have individual names like Santhosh, Shraddha, Karthik, Rajesh, Vidya, Sheetal, Prashant, Nilu etc. The still smaller are called Be-Threes and please do not omit to see there is one very small, the smallest as of now, which is my only Be-Four bubble now. She is Renjini. The Be-Threes have names like Renuka, Aryan, Vignesh, Kuttu, Sanjana, Naveen etc. etc.
I enquired: “How do you say that these bubbles are your life line?”
The robot: “Yes they give birth to me, they sustain me and they nourish me!
I asked: How?
The robot: “I am made in such a way that each tier of bubbles gives birth to the next tier, Be-Ones making Be-Twos, B-Twos making Be-Threes, Be-Threes making Be-Fours and in future, Be-Fours making Be-Fives and so on. At present the most active bubbles are the Be-Ones. The Be-Twos are highly potent. They are busy in their own world. On my body they are not fully charged now. Once it was tried to charge them with gold ions (coins). But they did not get charged!”
I asked: “Why? Is there no method of charging them so that you become more vibrant?”
The robot: “All bubbles are made to be self charging. They will get charged only with their own powers. No external power source could charge them.” So the bubbles themselves choose to get charged or not to get charged.” I will hop with activities only when many bubbles are duly charged!”

I asked: “What about your life span? How long are you scheduled to stay fit and kicking?”
The robot: “I told you I will remain active as long as the bubbles charge themselves and feed me with useful work. I do not know my life span. One day someone will give me orders to dismantle myself! I will be gone then!”

At this time I saw the robot struggling to hold his tears! I became silent, so too the robot. He looked up as though to look for the moon, but was actually avoiding our eyes meeting his! Finally a drop of tear dropped on to his chest. The drop splashed on Varun. Confused by the uncomfortable silence around, Varun almost threw a question at the robot: “Robot uncle, robot uncle, what is your name?”
The robot: “Oh! Varun, you can call me Uncle, you can call me Thatha, and you can call me by any name you like. You can announce to everyone how you feel with me. You may whisper in the ears of all my bubbles to get charged and vibrate me with soothing activities. My name is …. SKRI Clan”.
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Thoughts on a rainy day

Dear All,

I love rain. I love the windy rain lashing on trees- buildings, in Mumbai. When out in the rain, I love the pattering of the rain drops on my umbrella. I am amused when occasionally my folding umbrella folds reverse! My amusement multiplies when it happens to someone else!! I love the music produced by water falling on water. I love to see the birds cuddled into small dry spaces. I do not regret getting wet in rain. I enjoy when others get wet too. My enjoyment increases if I am dry then! I do not fear the occasional sprout of anger of the lightning. I do not mind the filthy smell the rain evokes. I do not bother about the smell of fungus on my cloth. I do not worry of delayed trains and derailed routines! Rain has come to Mumbai! Lazy days are here again!!

Last evening it was raining cats and dogs. I do not know how the rain is connected to cats and dogs though! I was sitting in the balcony of my apartment in Andheri, Mumbai, experiencing and ruminating my previous experiences of all these playfulness of the rain pouring down. I remembered the games of the rain in my village – Poonjar, in Kerala. I remembered the water pouring down the broken Mangalore tiles in the roof of our house, I could see the mother cow drenched in water, licking its calf dry. I recollected the smell of freshly cut grass competing with the murky smell of Bhanu, our maid servant. I remembered the paper boats, the mangoes and the warmth of blankets unwashed for months. I re-lived the flood and the turbulent water of the river; I could feel the sweet pain of swimming across the full river. Slowly my thoughts drifted from the rains. Or rather the rain evoked the philosopher in me. My thoughts traveled from rain to nature to life then and life now. I felt something is lacking today amidst the plentiful, a hole in the basket of fullness. The society then was contented. It did not know to wish more! A chocolate or a ripe mango then could give me more satiation than a new car or a new house today.

Today we have bigger and fancier houses but smaller families and broken homes. We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; more conveniences but less time to enjoy them. We have higher incomes but lower morals. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We have two incomes but too many divorces. We have wider freeways but narrow viewpoints. We have learned how to make a living, but not how to live a life. We build more computers, more mobiles and more printers but make less communication. We make steep profits but shallow relationships. We have tall body but short visions. We have more degrees, but less common sense. We have more data but less knowledge. We make more analysis but less judgment. We have more experts, more opinions, but more unresolved problems. We plan more but accomplish less.

We could split the atom but not our ego. We have conquered the outer space but not our inner space. We have been all the way to the moon and back but have trouble crossing the street to meet the neighbor. We have added years to life, but not life to years!

The rain referee blew a long whistle! The rain subsided. May be it is half time of Varuna’s football match. The philosopher in me deserted me. My thoughts became desultory. I started seeing things in my immediate vicinity. I could see traces of black soot in the parapet in the balcony. Are they the acidic traces of the volcano which scientists predicted that the rains will bring down? I moved from comfort to discomfort. Do I fear the rain?

The thought of volcano took me to perhaps, the longest word in English–Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis. I remembered my college days, when I was told that this is the name of a kind of pneumonia caused by the volcano eruption which includes certain minute stone-dust particles.

In my balcony, a small harmless centipede was moving quite fast, but apparently aimlessly, revisiting the corners already visited more than once. I wondered what it wanted. I observed it more intently. It seemed to move at its fastest best, a sort of running inside the train. Where it wanted to reach? It appeared to have no clue. It also seemed to be caught in the mesh of aimless life! That took me back to what we are trying to achieve. I felt we the bipeds are not much different from the centipede.

In the pursuit for progress and prosperity, we spend too recklessly, buy too much, drive too fast, enjoy too little, laugh too little, get angry too quickly, love too little, stay up too late, get up too tired, produce too many books, read too little, watch television too long, talk too much, listen too little, rush too often, wait too little, take too much medicine, have too little health, lie too often and pray too seldom.

We have ‘ready to eat’ packets which are only ‘ready to eat up’ our health! We crave for fast foods which slow down our digestion. We have more variety of food but less nutrition. We have comfortable beds but disturbed sleep. We have good clocks but bad time sense. We have more leisure but less rest.

The professor in me tells me that we should search for knowledge, read more, spend more time with our family and friends, eat our favorite foods and visit places we love. Tell your families how much you love them. Add laughter and joy to your life. Why go to the laughing club? Make a laughing club at home. Laugh until your voice choke, laugh until tears roll down your cheeks. Why pray alone? God loves prayer in chorus! Pray with all in the family. Let us not think ‘one of these days’ and ‘someday’ to do things. Today is the day. Write today itself, that mail you thought of writing ‘one of these days’ to your friend!

Life is a gift, enjoy it. Life is a song, sing it. Life is a chain of moments – moments of enjoyment, singing and dancing, live every moment for, every day, every hour, every minute and every moment is yours and yours alone. Live every moment the same way you would like to live it the next birth. Now that you have read this patiently, could you tell what is it that comes only once in a minute but twice in a moment?

May the rain, rain all kinds of happiness on you!! With love,

K. R. Iyer