The soft spoken 'Ahimsawadi' who was my Appa

The other day I boarded a train to go to Thiruchirappalli. That time my mind was so preoccupied with so many thoughts and emotions that the usual excitement of a train travel was not there.
பாரிமகளிர் தம் தந்தையின் இழப்பினால் ஏங்கிப் பாடிய
"அற்றை திங்கள் அவ்வெண்ணிலவில் ..... நினைவில் வந்து வந்து படுத்தியது.
Those with some knowledge of Thamizh will know about Sangam literature. This verse brings out the feeling of loss of the father. The same sky and the same moon is there, but the father whom they adored was not there to enjoy the beauty like the other day. The sense of loss and loneliness just engulfs me whenever I remember the verse.

Why did that just pop into my thoughts that evening in the train? Is it because I was reminded of the times I made the same trip to my parents place? The associated sensations, smells and other things suddenly brought out from some safe corner of my mind, the calm and the melancholic face of my father. A myriad of images in various situations flooded my mind clamouring for attention. The time when he came to send me off after my marriage with such longing in his eyes, those times when he came to receive me during school holidays with the entire face lit up (I was supposed to be his favourite?!) or the times (though very few) when he would look with disappointment and concern if I had not behaved with kindness or shown care for others or those times when he indulged any of us with only a serene look- all these were rolling in front of my eyes.

He was not comfortable showing his emotions. It is all very subtle- the play of emotions on his face. If we guess the feelings behind his gestures, he would turn red. His shyness was adorable and we used to make fun of that. Such a gentle soul was he that my brother and myself would take extreme care not to offend him. He never had raised his voice and never demanded or commanded us to do this or not to do that. When both of us wanted to stay with our grandparents as children, He could have used strong words and strictly ordered us to go with him. But, he said he could not and should not take us against our wish. He felt that he should respect the wish of the other person even if that person is young.

The way he treated my mother was such a joy to watch. He took care of her like she was a precious diamond. He did not get ruffled by her nagging and complaints. On the contrary, he went out of his way to satisfy her desires. Their marriage might have set some tongues wagging for he was fair complexioned with a shade of pink and she was dark complexioned. I have a feeling, movies and media of late have blown it out of proportion and fed people the idea about dark and fair. They had no problem and their families had absolutely no problem about it.

So, going to the city where they lived for a long time triggered memories from the past. Different kinds of people who were associated with him remember him with respect and love. I know a few who would say, I would do anything for 'sir'.
End of the train travel brought the curtain down on this memory trail as the city is nothing like I used to know. Everywhere 'developmental' work has taken its toll and talking about it will make another story altogether. Once again, appa went back to his cherished corner in my mind and I got back to the every day activities.

To Friends

Some places, some people light that something deep inside me that I want to jump with joy and break into a song (like our actors do!) This happened on the evening when colleagues/friends from the same school got together. I was on a high from the time I got invited as I feel happy to be remembered as a friend.
So I decided to meet them all briefly at least for I was to leave the same evening on a trip out of city. It was about some 20 years ago that we came together entering a new phase in our lives - taking up a career besides being young mothers of active, strong willed youngsters. Some of us in the group were veterans in the sense, they had been teachers for some years. Still, there was some magic or should I say chemistry working to bind us into a beautiful friendship. It was after a deep personal loss I donned this new role of a professional with trepidation and with a deep sense of sorrow. They welcomed me unconditionally and stood by me whenever I had a crisis(and that was plenty!)

The wonderful time we had is also due to the enterprising Principal who was ever ready to experiment and given us enough freedom to improvise and innovate. The picture will not be complete If I do not mention the efficiency of our vice principal who could sometimes be a terror (only, if you do not complete the work as per her expectation and that can be many?!) She was practical and her alert brain, My God! could challenge 10 computers at the same time! Despite my aversion to correction, if i could meet the deadline time and again at later stage, credit goes to her.
We made a great team which I have realised much later only. Surprising, is it not? I learnt to be patient with kids, to appreciate their out of the box imagination, to coax work out of them and had fun doing my work.

An important aspect of the growing friendship was the simple acceptance of the person with all the eccentricities and attitudes. They did point out certain undesirable aspects but never criticised the others. I had a brief time of 5 years only with them. But on and off I used to see some of them in marriages and other functions. But, this time, it was mainly to spend time together and what a revelation it was! I could not spend a leisurely time with them and did not get to meet one or two friends as they were late.

The warmth and the faces lighting up from within when seeing me simply overwhelmed me! The way they fondly recalled some of my quirky habits or showed pride in my achievements is what gives me hope and joy in living!

Saying 'Thank you' is inadequate to express my feelings to them. But I want to convey to all of them how I value their friendship. It is a humbling experience and I know the only way to repay such goodness is by spreading good will and cheers to whomever I can.
In some of the worst moments of my life, they were there waiting for me to emerge stronger and a better person. I can but take it as God's way of looking after me.

This is dedicated to you friends from JGVV. My salutations to you all.

Music, once again!

It was with the promise that I will write a second part to describe my impressions and feelings about the music concerts, I concluded my last posting. But it is a promise not meant to be fulfilled. I enjoyed myself thoroughly and there were many a time when I was elevated to a higher plane of bliss. Then why did i not write about them? Almost all the days of the season, I was fortunate to listen to good music, soak in it,revel in it and let myself soaked in romantic Kalyani, a grand and magnificent Thodi, a soothing Sankarabharanam smooth flowing Mohanam and many more such ragas. The 'Vidwat'of TM Krishna/'Bhawa in Jeyashree's singing/the depth and commitment in Sanjay's music - the list goes on. But what I experienced while listening to Aruna Sairam was astounding! In terms of sruti, accommodating the accompanying artists, reaching out to the audience and taking the listeners along with her and bringing out the true emotion behind every song, I would say, she simply is marvelous! While in that mood of listening, I could not put my feelings into words as my mind was full of swaras and words would have reduced the experience into a verbal analysis.(That was the way I felt). Sometimes, one feels the urge to share the feelings but this is not one of those time, I guess.

Then, came another concert of Aruna, as part of 'Smrutha Dhvani', to raise funds for supporting retiring accompanying artists. It was not a performance in 'kutcheri' format but a beautiful rendering of some great songs in different Indian languages. Aruna understands the lyrics, connects with the composer's feeling with sensitivity and sings the composition with dedication and in an utmost uninhibited manner. She touches a chord in the deep recess of your heart.

• Essaying of Amirthavarshini was like listening to the முதல் மழை of the monsoon falling on the trees, rivers, and on the parched earth! Her accompaniments as usual had such coordination and understanding with her that every song evoked distinct feelings and emotions. If it was the undulating expanse of sand and the gently swaying camels that came to your mind with 'Vaishnav Janato', it was Ganga in all her splendour who nourishes the millions of this land for countless years called to you when she sang Kabir's 'Suno, suno'.

Narsi Mehta's composition, the way she built up the song gave me at least a moment of absolute harmony with all things around me.(Though, I'm not a true vaishnavite with an all encompassing compassion for all creatures).

Kabir's 'suno, suno', she sang to the accompaniment of tabla, pakhawaj more than the others and it was a total bliss. The sufi essence of bhakti slowly pulled me into it that tears filled my eyes. She sang one sloka on Devi, A Gregorian chant, a Bharati song on Allah and Gurbani all as one item. It was not merely nivel but again touching because of her dedication and soulful singing.

It was the complete package that appealed to the aesthetic sense. The stage set up with the background pictures on the screen behind the artists just enhanced the beauty of the programme and enriched the listening experience.

If one feels I am lavish in my praise and may be exaggerating, each one is entitled to his/her view. I came back from the programme charged afresh that I sat down to write this after a long period of inaction.

Vibrant Chennai Music Season - 1

Living in a humid and hot place,we look forward to the 2 months or so of pleasant cool weather in Chennai. It looks funny to see people wearing woolen clothes celebrating the so called winter in December and January though it is only cool and the slight nip in the air energises one. There are many social activities going on in the city making use of the Sun God's kindness during this time. I particularly look forward to the music season during this time. I start counting days from November onwards and wait for those 15 days of bliss.

The concerts in themselves are great, wonderful and worthy of the wait. What adds colour and spice to the whole experience is the feeling, attitude and interest of the 'rasikas' whom one can see in the concert hall.

There are those who take it as a big outing event to come to the programme donning their best of saris, showing off their diamonds and their dressing skills. Some others come to meet with friends and to to have an update of the circle's grapevine.
Then there are the globe trotting (or should I say the USA?)'patti, thathas' who take this occasion of 'kacheries to greet fellow travellers and talk about common friends who are in LA or New Jersey or other American cities. There are those who hop from one concert hall to other and are ever ready to give their expert opinion on the standard of the programme in a particular 'sabha' and present a critical review with a flourish.
When I say all these, please do not mistake me and wonder about the listeners' knowledge and listening skill. Despite a few who come to the concert with hidden agenda, mostly it is a discerning audience and some of them who come there are true connoisseurs of the classical music.

I am simply passionate about this music and the few opportunities that I get to listen to such programmes, I just grab them with both hands. The cool weather turning slightly chilly in the evenings lend a dream like quality to the whole season. The rustle of silk, the whiff of perfume (both artificial and the natural) and the aroma from the canteen carried by the gentle breeze are all inherent part of this great cultural event. Above all, the music simply transports me to another plane altogether in a different world. Unbound from the usual restraints, my mind roams freely from the past to the present, to unknown places and familiar sites creating a wide spectrum of colours and hues; so many thoughts, great many ideas tumble out trying to push past one another that I find it diffiult to give voice to them. However, I am making an attempt this time. Music lovers and all others reading these posts, please share your thoughts.

Part 2- Indian Yatra

Travelling by Indian Railways, I reiterate, never fails to fascinate and excite me. There were times when I had to take care of the food needs for the long hours of travel- approaching the preparations with careful planning specially when my kids with their extra energy and the usual(or unusual?) whims were my fellow travellers. All that toil and running around apart, The prospect of travel used to energise me with vigour! Every trip is something new and unique and every move brings a new perspective about this great land and think of the types of people one can see!

The seasoned travellers by IR will give me a disgusting look. I know what with the chaos and noise of the stations, travellers who make a nuisance of themselves with their heavy luggage, those crook of passengers who try to unseat you from your rightful reserved space..(You can add the scare of theft, bombing etc, etc.) But, here I am still going strong with my romance with the IR-The offending noises, dirty fellow passengers, smelly toilets and stiff joints not withstanding!

Such a hardcore fan of the IR as myself even had to admit to the stress and discomfort of train travel in the second phase of my tour.That was when we had to travel through Bihar and UP and that part of the travel would only lead us to fulfill our religious obligations to our ancestors. I had done my bit of travel in these regions earlier. Still, I could understand the sense of shock and surprise that hits any one from the south of Vindhyas. Rules don't count here. (Reservations - 'voh kyah cheez hai?') Stronger and pushy persons survive the travails of train journey in these parts, being able to talk in the local lingo or the standard version of the national language is an added advantage. All said and done, we had our moments of tension when we did not have reservations together and had to to do some juggling.
Gaya is a typical sleepy town of Bihar showcasing the backwardness and poverty that is Bihar except when it comes alive with the visiting pilgrims. But in what way! - the 'pujaris', 'pandits, persons claiming to be guides besides the usual quota of beggars would almost pounce on you to extract money from you. If you are not alert you would be dancing to their tunes.( Even otherwise you would have to perform a wriggling act to escape them!) These and the sight of garbage-strewn narrow roads drag our attention from the religious rituals and questions gnaw at your heart for which you have no answer.

The next stretch saw us traversing the length and breath of the state of U.P by road. A small village at the beginning of the Kumaun mountains but for the 'Alvars' (Bhakti saints who sang hymns in praise of Vishnu in Tamizh) would not have been in the travel list is 'Nemisaranyam'. Nemi is the 'chakra' in the hand of Vishnu which came down to this peaceful woods. That is to indicate an ideal place to meditate, do 'thapas'. It is genuinely a serene place encouraging you to probe inward. Despite the usual running in and out of temples and boarding places, I was feeling the pull of the place, the divine beauty of the surrounding. When my fellow travellers were trying to add to their 'Punya' by visiting the temples and worshiping as per their understanding, I could not get that kind of 'Bhakti'. The consciousness or the awareness within me ( Give whatever name you want) wanted to link with the bhakti spirit centuries back and soak in their emotion of selfless love for God and the utmost faith and absolute surrender, to at least glimpse that bliss. Unfortunately, the mundane practicalities of the present pulled me down and I have to 'fall in line'(!?). I had not been able to share such feelings with any one for the simple reason that these were thoughts swirling deep in my mind and I was not able to verbalise them. This is one place where we have to come without the time constrictions and spend the time in solitude. ( Can I make such a trip?). Another wonderful experience which I like to reminisce about was the cold dip we had in the river Gomati/Gomukhi early morning with the Sun reaching his tender rays towards the water.

In and out, in and out of temples was what we were doing in Ayodhya and to a certain extent it remained a mechanical exercise without any sincere emotion of Bhakti(It is about my feelings and I wouldn't know of others.) The security at the 'Ramajanma bhoomi sthal' made many of us uneasy wondering about the demolition and the communal divide. A place active with daily worship and pulsating with the love and devotion of the people for their 'Ram Lalla' is now looking sinister and evokes only disturbed thoughts! The lanes leading to the temples in this place were providing a glimpse into the actual demolition and the police firing by continuous playing of CD. Intolerance and violence in the land of Rama?

While the waters of Gomati was pristine, the Sarayu in Ayodhya was heavy with its load as it was the plains. Whatever be the river, bathing in it has special significance to all of us born in this land. If you look around you can see many kinds of people- some scared, some awestruck by the volume of water ( may be, like us who are from water- thirsty Chennai!), some sobered down by the religious significance. No doubt that all would enjoy the dip but none would take it as a pleasure or fun. Deep down in our heart is this firmly rooted belief- We are shaped by the soil in which we are born and the water that sustains our life. We consider the rivers of this land holy. so, what is new, friend? Nothing is, as we continue to be our hypocritical selves and pollute the great rivers which untiringly sustain us. Thus wherever we had our 'theertha Snan', I experienced a mixed emotion with the reverence due to the river and frustration and anger towards my own people.

Be it a holy dip in the great rivers of our land, a visit to a famous temple to offer prayers to the reigning deity of the place, performing the religious rites- the attitude and the approach of my fellow travellers were so varied and provided interesting insight into the human psyche. There were those who looked up to every single religious tradition with utmost reverence even when they did not understand the significance or need of many of them. They listened to any one who claimed to have knowledge in these matters. Then there were those ever curious 'doubting Thomas' type raising pertinent as well as irrelevant and meaningless questions. Yet another type remained observers and did not have a strong urge to do the religious duties. Besides these types, came the aggressive and ever pushing to reach anywhere first. Among them all, I could not but admire the couple from Kanchipuram for their warm friendly nature, sincere efforts to maintain the pious mood and polite kind words to every one. There was this person from Thiruchi who showed a depth of knowledge about the nature of soils along the rivers. He kept himself fit and agile during his mid life years by following some natural therapy.

I am certainly not concluding this without sharing my impressions about that oldest city, with a mystic aura around it. Why, it is none other than Varanasi/Kashi/Benares. Day after day, for many years the stories my 'Patti' used to narrate about her journey to this place had fascinated me. A great story teller that she was, it felt like watching the entire episode like a film.( Not that I lacked imagination to vividly picturise the whole thing!) Excitement mounted to a peak and the slight confusion about accommodation added to the excitement. After a little drama, we checked in late in the night. Anyhow, it was to be a hectic day ( the next day) with Gangasnan and performing the rites for our ancestors.

The first thing that caught my attention was the vibrant mood with such life even as we were waiting to get into our boarding during night. Once again, it was with a mixed feeling of elation and sadness that I faced the great river that had been the guiding force behind many a ruler, poet, philosopher and saint. I was overwhelmed thinking that generations of pilgrims, travellers, seekers of truth had stood on the very shores drawing inspiration from the 'grand old dame' (or should I say the young and ever beautiful lady?) Though I normally am not moved much by the rites, that day moving by boat on the waters of Ganga, performing the last rites for my ancestors, my dear ones who were dead brought a sense of comfort as though they all were near me accepting my offerings and passing on some new energy to me. However,the dip in Manikarnika Ghat only upset me rather than evoking reverence for 'Ganga Maiya' with the muddy, dirty water there. Ganga Maiya is supposed to wash away our sins alright, but not to be dumped with the city waste.

Thanks to the communal intolerance and bombings in places of worship, I could not have a peaceful Darshan of Lord Vishwanath. How much I looked forward to that rare moment of harmony with all around me! But what I got was the mechanical frisking by the security personnel, push and nudge by the crowd and again the insistent voice of the security guys to hurry up.

I definitely would like to cherish our early morning trip to Ganga. It was drizzling and the water wa dark still and appeared to stretch endlessly. ( One should not forget the chill as well.) She, I mean Ganga Maiya, seemed to be relaxing but with a hint of welcome and approachable aura around her like a mother has a welcoming smile for her child when the child rushes to her, even in her sleep. The cold water slowly reaching upto our neck felt like the cool soothing touch of the mother. It was a bliss with the silence around and only the murmur of the water like the loving words of the mother, a rare moment of harmony with the creation watching the slowly lightening Eastern sky and listening to those one or two sincere devotees singing Her praise and bathing.

I do not want to give the list of places visited and the time. It is the feeling that elated me and lifted me out of my earthly bonds that I want to describe here. It is so profound that I am afraid defining it in words will not be effective. Yet, I wanted to annonce it from rooftop, laughing out loud and annonce to all and sundry, "Hey, my fellow beings, come with an open mind to this city soaked in history and religion, come to this mad quirky city to be drawn into its madness, come to this city of Shiva, the Destroyer to feel that death is nothing but another beginning, liberation from the physical restraints, come as a seeker of the Truth to learn the wisdom of the saints." I am not exagerating my impressions here. Even after a month or two, when I sit back to recollect the moments spent there for only two days, wave after wave of a strong emotion grips me and God! how I want to go there and experience the madness, chaos and yet following a pattern and rhythm!
There were so many more observations that I originally thought of mentioning here. But, the flow of thought took me to describing Varanasi after which I want to go into silence to once again relive the time spent there.

Indian Yatra

There used to be a time when traveling long distances by Indian Railways at least twice a year was a normal routine for me, but no more. That too, for almost a decade now, even overnight travel had become a rare event. So, one can easily guess my excitement when planned to go on a package tour specially one wherein I could discharge my duty as a dutiful daughter sending all my elders on their way to ‘Moksha’. The preparation and packing provided great scope for fun for my daughters (At my cost, of course!) with the roles reversed and they mothering me with the ‘do’s & ‘don’ts’.

The sounds and smells typical of Chennai Central wafted towards me pulling me into the great chaos of the station on the morning of 11th, March. I was reminded of another time, different mood and people and felt nostalgic. (It was after about 26 years I was going to board the Coromandal Express.)

When we got down at Khordha Road, it looked like the end of planned travel with comfort. It was early morning and still there were traces of winter and which pepped me up. But the ordeal of transferring our luggage from one platform to another with the accompanying climbing up and down still remained. Added to that the connecting bridge ended in one platform and we had to cross the tracks to the next one. Any one who has traveled in our trains would know that it is not easy to jump down and climb up to the platform from the tracks unless the person is young and agile. All the Mamas and Mamis did that (with their luggage) of course puffing and panting. We decided to walk down to the other end of the platform where, presto! the platform had a downward slope and we could walk easily.(Thanks to our enthusiastic ‘group captain’) We boarded a Passenger Train which was slower than a bullock cart and finally reached Puri.

Two days we traveled in Orissa, been to important temples in Bhuvaneshwer for worship and Darshan of Lord Jagannath at Puri gave me yet another insight into the social cultural and religious fabric of this great land. I tried to remain objective, studying the typical architectural style and observing people from different corners of the country converging there. After a while, I became part of the whole and for a moment there, I was one part of the Brahman- completely in sync with the Whole. (Don’t worry, folks! The ‘enlightenment’ didn’t last for long!)

Two young priests of the temple climbing the 170ft tower daily evening to change the flags is a ‘must watch’ action not only for the tension and excitement but to feel the complete faith and unwavering conviction of the devotees that Jagannath will take care of every thing. The presiding Deity there, is believed to be fond of food that food is offered to Him seven times a day.( some foodie, He is!) The kitchen where the heat never appears to cool off, nor the Chula idle- may be for centuries? Seven times new set of earthen pots are used, I believe. The food is then distributed. I have read that the Rath used for the famous ‘Rath Yatra’ is a one time affair. Like any other temple of this land, this temple sustains one entire community.

Coming out of the temple, the shops arrayed on both sides of the broad road beckoned us(ladies, to be precise!). Shopping becomes compulsive when we are out of our place and most of us end up buying things normally available in our place. I suppose it is the thrill of bargaining and the false satisfaction that we have made a smart buy. The shop keepers are expert in reading human mind and pull the wool over the eyes of even a seasoned shopper. With much difficulty, we prevented our captain from buying sandal wood pieces from pavement shops and she thought that we lost a good bargain! Will it be that easy for those small vendors to stock authentic sandal wood pieces with some official seal?

I was awestruck the first time I set my eyes on Konark Temple. The imagination and aesthetic sense of the architect, the sculptor moved me so much that I wanted to run atop one structure and shout with joy; to sit in a corner and try to contemplate the thoughts and creative urges of those artists.

When I found out that it was an engineering marvel too with specific mechanisms to focus the Sun’s rays on to a point in the sanctum, when I realised the power emanating from the temple affected the vehicles on the road and hen I saw the proof of the Colonial rulers’ apathy and scant regard for anything Indian in the way the sanctum was boarded up I felt a sense of dejection and a helpless anger. Even now, our people refuse to look into our scientific and technological legacy with an open mind from behind a western viewpoint and thoughts such as these gave the monument a melancholic aura.Going from a Metro like Chennai to Bhuvaneshwer and travelling on that city roads gave us tension. (It does not of course mean disciplined traffic on Chennai Roads! But it was worse there.)

The next phase of the travel took us to ‘cow country’ and U.P where the religious rites have to be performed and we all would be doing that duty of every one born in this land, specially Hindus- taking a dip in the holy Ganga and the ‘Sangam’. The experience was profound and the people, the life, the attitude everything demand a separate analysis and thus a different article.

I am still unable to concretize those emotions and reactions of mine to put into words. But they will definitely evolve into an article!

Summer Holidays

After the exam mania of March, if you think, a period of relaxation follows, (the kind some of us used to know two or three decades ago) people will look at you strangely perhaps with pity for your slow understanding of the ways of the present world. Today’s parents will insist that they provide their kids better opportunities than themselves. They are ready to shell out a huge sum of money on planning and implementing a series of holiday activities for their kids. Parents’ dream of ‘name and fame’ for their precious children is what drives them to set about holiday plan similar to planning a military operation.

Come March and we can see the city’s parent community abuzz with preparations for the ‘soon to follow’ holidays. Whenever parents meet in the school campus or outside, they will be comparing notes and try to choose among the mushrooming summer camps the best and the most suitable for their wards. For some it will be the need to sharpen their mathematical skills and aptitude; yet others will look out for improvement of social skills; for some parents the norm will be an all round personality development; the list and requirements stretch sky high. You cannot but notice the care and concern of today’s parents. (Ignorant are those who think the parents are over ambitious and pushy?!)

Holidays concern the children, don’t they? Are the kids part of the planning and scheming for the holidays? Or, is the plan part of the package that has to be accepted by the kids as a standard parental provision? Perhaps, within the elite group at the top, the children are so privileged to demand a continental tour or African safari or some such thing. Otherwise, I guess the general practice would be for the parents to make arrangements as ‘responsible parents’.

During holidays, if some of the youngsters go for coaching camps for cricket/ tennis/ table tennis that stretch from early morning to late afternoons nobody finds it strange. It is true that the children would love playing better than their other routine of ‘studying’. I wonder about the objective and attitude of parents who send their kids to such camps. There is always this expectation of some ‘return’ or benefit to result from these activities. As you put the raw material into the machine at the beginning, the crude, undervalued material gets processed and slide down the conveyer belt as a refined, value added finished product, the parents expect a Sachin swinging his bat for a square drive or Leander Paes coming out with a timely forehand return at the end of the camp. (They are realistic and so they do not expect it at the first camp itself but are very definite about it at the end of the third or fourth camp!) Now, tell me, would the children enjoy the games as they should have? There is always the target to reach: a goal to achieve: a dream (never mind even if it is their parents’ dream presented as theirs!) to fulfill. With the Damocles’ sword hanging above their head, the charm and fun of simple playing disappears.

We see a similar situation be it enhancing the artistic abilities or learning to be a dancer or striving to be an ‘all rounder’. Recently, I happened to witness a scene where the agitated mother was trying to find out why her shy son had not come forward and dance with a stage presence and attitude outshining other kids? Remember, her son had attended two summer camps and he must be about eight or nine years old. He likes the fun of letting go and shaking his legs to the music but not keen on being in the limelight, may be. However, the mother would have felt upset when her son was not able to do what some other kids appear to do effortlessly. The child’s achievements are taken as the parents’ achievements, of course??! As a parent, I can perfectly understand the feeling and wish that one wants recognition and appreciation for the children. When it becomes a craving, an obsession that the parents ignore all other things around them and more so about the fears, likes, aptitude and dreams of the kids, it is sad. Am I wrong in thinking they are not our possessions?

As usual, triggered by one incident the mind took off on a roller coaster ride that jumbled all thoughts and tossed them in a heap. One thing stands out, when I see all the so called holiday excitement today. I thank my stars that I am not at the receiving end of those ‘privileges’ as a kid. I hope that I have not handed out a structured but dull holiday package to my children?! On a day when the whole family gets together and travels down the memory lane, It is those spontaneous actions and spending unstructured but quality time together that will forge closer bonds. Perhaps, the people of earlier generation can relate to the situation when I mention those lazy summer afternoons spent in being introduced to the magic world of books or the cousins getting together planning mischief and finding ways to escape the wrath of elders! The lucky ones could remember the time spent in the vast open spaces of the ancestral village and going after those green, tangy mangoes stealthily. Yes…, I can visualise the vigorous nods of some of you. You want now to take the trip to that day in your thatha’s place, go ahead and have fun!