Word Cache

The Internet is just a world passing around notes in a classroom –
Jon Stewart

Whats On Your Gate !

Word Cache, , , ,
I am decent chap, you see. Seriously. Please don’t conclude by the quality of the written word on this blog. I really am a decent chap. Ok !?! And so, when friends invite me for dinner ( yes, i do get invited, once in a while), i go.

Till sometime back, i went with joy and without any hesitation. The only question that was on the tip of my tongue was ‘Whats for dinner?” These days, that is the last question. If at all we get there. For many a time, i don’t get to go beyond the gate !

For,every apartment worth its home loan balance, leakage and squabbling association, has a string of notices that hang by a thick string at the gate. You just cant miss those signboards.

The following are the most common in the area where i live, in the order of occurrences.(Yes. Sure. I did a research).

1. No Parking In Front Of Gate
2. No Entry For Outside Vehicles
3. No Entry Without Valid Permission

These signs, to put it mildly, amuse me no end. Although, i must confess, sometimes they are downright intimidating. Sample this workplace gate at a workplace near ours.

You cant go if you drove an ‘outside’ vehicle. Nor can you park your ‘outside’ vehicle, somewhere close to the gate. And if you are enraged with the entire arrangement, you cant stick a complaint on their face. And if you plan to enter through the side…well, beware of dogs !

I really think we need to start a mass movement to have more ‘welcoming’ signboards on apartment gates. I really think it is time we did that.

Signboards that will not make visitors feel like hunted aliens driving a single door UFO with blinking lights and hissing gas. And of course, visitors must feel better than creeps who killed an army of people with twin antennae and a slithering tongue.

I know. I know. You think i am taking all of this too far. But, sample this gate that i spotted on LBS Marg.


Now, if there was some friend (who is not a relative) who invited me here for dinner, the food he served will not go beyond my oesophagus !!

So, in true form, i seethed about ‘positive vibes’ & made random noises about ancient Indian hospitality. And the missus listened.

Used to such rants by now, she crossed her arms, tilted her head and said, ” so wise man, what do you want to write instead of whats written over there. These boards come with a purpose. Now tell me, how will you say that, with a positive vibe?” ( Married folks understand that sentence. Yet to be married folks will understand it in time)

Now, that set me thinking. The challenge thrown, and the gauntlet picked, i stood like a gladiator with ten unchained lions attacking me, with strings from an iron gate. So, working furiously, i thought of these…

No Parking In Front Of Gate
Reserved Parking for the mentally disabled or Reserved parking for people with severe body odour / Reserved Parking for Stolen Cars.

Now, how cool would that be !?! ‘Reserved Parking’ sounds cool. Much cooler than ‘No Parking In Front Of Gate’

hmm… or perhaps, ‘Please keep the engine on. We dry clothes on the bonnet’ !
Or, even better. ‘Smile. You are now on Police CCTV’ !

No Entry For Outside Vehicles
Exclusive Entry for Red Mercedes 280 SL with Retreaded MRF Tyres.

And folks who write ‘Beware of dogs’ can consider writing something common, but specific enough. Something like ‘ We are a quiet neighbourhood. Dogs that bite, seldom bark.’. That would be neat. What say !

And so i continued. But stumbled when i came to the blokes who have a ‘members and relatives only’ signboard….

‘Vampires Live Here’, i said. But that was promptly shot down with a shove by the missus. I am still wondering. In the interest of the MMWS (Mass Movement Towards Welcoming Signboards), can you shake your brains a little please ?!?

If you are plain lazy like i usually am, just wanted to let you know that i have made a transition. Whenever a dinner invitation reaches me, the question no longer is, ‘Whats on the plate”…but…

“whats on your gate?”

Yes Our Can !

Word Cache, , , , ,
Visiting a family that i often visit, i have to use the toilet a.k.a washroom in ‘developed’ circles. Marveling at the body’s engineering processes, which somehow sense proximity of clean toilets, to alert the urges, i enter !
It was a super clean and neat place. It continues to be so. To this day ! And there, just as i am using the pot, in a corner is this green can. ‘Castrol’ it says ! (You know Castrol dont you?) And of course, it is filled to the brim with water and apparently, part of mainstream usage !

Surely, Castrol didn’t pay this family for strategic brand placement in the washroom! It is just another can that was being put to the best of reuse and recycle ! Millions in India do this.



Every rural morning sun sees people walking the fields with cans that say ‘Castrol’ or “Servo’ or ‘Asian Paints’ *** etc ! They held lubricants, oil, paint when they moved out of the factory. But in their recycled avatar, they are usually filled with water. And comes in handy for porting water…you know…for all what water comes in handy for.




Sometimes they help in porting garbage. Cleaning Autorickshaws. At other times they are cow feed carriers. At yet others for brewing illicit hooch!! And of course, they are used by the Public Works Department in perennial road building activities as well !

And why not….

I presume these cans are made to the strictest Seven Sigma quality ( Six Sigma standards + one sigma extra for all the noise made about Six Sigma ). Made by the best of engineering minds, out of the best material possible and sport colour combinations chosen by brand consultants ! And of course, come to production only after exacting quality checks !

I turn to the green Castrol can in the corner. This time around, i look at it with higher respect. And i wonder, how my reactions would change, if i worked for Castrol. Would i run my finger affectionately on the can, and say, with a Obama like thud, ‘Yes ! Our Can‘ !?!

I finish up what i came into the toilet for. And then, i cast one last respectful glance at the green Castrol can and with imagination running riot about a mob of Castrol users shouting ‘Yes Our Can’, i look at it a little more intently.

I spot a sticker on it that reads : ‘Its more than oil. Its liquid engineering’ !

It all comes together ! A light bulb glows somewhere. Suddenly, brand placement seems appropriate ! Pot on !

(*** Castrol, Servo and Asian Paints are common examples going by my mind share and corresponding assumptions of visibility in toilets / washrooms. They are not quoted here out of personal association / spite / liking etc. Ok !?! )

Stomach Vision !

Word Cache, , , , ,
Metaphors occupy my thoughts these days. Its almost becoming an obsession. Looking at any object and thinking up a connection is having a soothing impact. (Well, in the silence of my own self, affording a laugh at best and a smirk at worst ! )

Strange things are happening to the world you see and there are first steps to everything. My approaching delirium included. ( Read more about delirium here. Incase any of you wants to check…No. Not a self check. Of course not..! Someone you know…!)

Anyway, in this current state of mind, I looked at this picture and recall a Bangalore evening. And methinks of sharing my thought & checking out my delirium quotient !!

Just outside the Cosmopolitan Mall in Bangalore, they had this giant ‘puppet’ that walked the entrances when we were there, a couple of years back. I am told that they did this to sustain interest from shoppers and increase foot falls !

Entertaining children and therefore relieving parents! The young impressionable minds saw this ‘larger than life’ colorful & powerful object that moved around and resembled a human form, with, to put it mildly, a certain degree of large awe and some joy.

So, they clapped aloud. Smiled. Laughed aloud. And kept standing wide eyed at the sight of this large wooden lady that went from one end to another.

Some children ventured near ‘her’ and ‘she’ would come close or go farther away, and children obviously would go ga-ga, that this huge figure was after all responding to them and their moves !

It was an interesting exchange of sorts! Between children of all hue and the puppet.

Parents stood by the side. Fully aware that the puppet was moved around by a small man with stilt legs standing inside ! Moved around, powered by the eyes in the tummy

Yes..those peep holes in the tummy of the puppet which were the see-holes through which the small man inside was using to move around with.

Seeing the world & those children. Their laughter and their moves et al. And making his moves, while we stood there and let the children have all the fun !!

So there was a

a. Wooden but very colourful structure
b. Seemed larger than life
c. Was actually a small, ordinary person inside
d. Attracted and plays with / to impressionable minds
e. Had stomach vision..( saw all activities through an eye in the stomach…)

Without a tilt of a head or a shake of a finger i shout : politicians of the world !!


But as i said, i concede, mine is a mind that is beginning to indicate onset of progressive delirium. At least that’s what i make of the look people give me these days. So, do let me know, how close or how far away i am.

From delirium that is !


Notes to Myself !

Word Cache, , , , ,

Some things send me in a tizzy. Pompous talk, for one wins hands down. The other, is to see some ‘works of art’ ! Like the ones that i see in Ten rupee currency notes. Today i got four notes. And i plan to take them out of circulation.

And i wonder why people would scrawl !?!

Sampled here are four notes. And here is whats written on them. Not including the ‘i promise to pay the bearer..’

a. Pictorial Representation of ‘I love Mumtaz’
b. ‘I love Poondi’ stuck off and replaced with ‘I love Saleem’
c. A star and some other indecipherable script. I can read ‘Arsht Arsi’
d. ‘We are like this only’

a. For the love of the original Mumtaz, the Emperor Shah Jehan built the Taj Mahal ! So, if you cant afford it, must you leave a scrawl ?! To all the aspiring Shah Jehans of the world, if you have to showcase the love of Mumtaz, for heavens sake, go rent a flat, build a hut. Whatever. But spare the 10 rupee note ! Please !

b. And if you have doubts about who you really love and how to keep track as you move from Poondi to Saleem, may i suggest, you use a tissue paper. The currency note is for circulation, you see. On second thoughts, i wouldn’t give you that idea. I am recalling that statement. Now, jsut go buy tissue paper.

c. Ok. So you have this incorrigible urge to write. And practice your writing on currency notes only. Ok, so your father was the oil sheik, who has four wells somewhere in the gulf. Ok. Ok. But, at least, at the very least, write some stuff that we can read and understand.

d. And the last one. The next time, i catch you writing something like this, i am calling the cops. The mint. The RBI, anybody. Somebody. Ok. I promise to create so much noise, that , at least the next time, they would print a helpline for such traumatised people like me, to call and complain. Right there on the 10 rupee note !

Gandhi’s smile, was not always of approval.

Now, stop that scrawl.

The Wonder Years !

Word Cache, , , , ,
So there ! The new year has brought in a reconnection ! Reconnection with long lost classmates from a distant time and a lost memory. Lost in the speed of day to day living and in the name of making a living !

Orkut and Facebook have suddenly occupied centrestage in life and voila, people that i last spoke to when the first dinosaur shed its last milk tooth suddenly came alive.

Well, the chaps from school did sound different ! Of course they would. I am sure they say the same of me, if not worse ! And boy do they look different !! Each with a kid or two. Some going to the same school that we went to. Some looking exactly as they used to. And many others, giving me comfort and company by looking…well, different !

An unintended consequence has been reminiscing the wonder years.

Those years where you played a serious cricket match (during a lunch break of 45 minutes), with a tennis ball and half a branch of a coconut tree. Years when the closest health worry was the quick healing of a twisted ankle, in time for the cricket match !

Those years where you had wind in your hair (and of course, hair in the first place..) and a spirit in your walk, that was tested only by the Maths test ! Years when ‘a house’ did not come with a home loan ! But with a sleeveless florescent vest !

“Houses” ( groups) you used to belong to for the Sports Day ! I think those houses, in our case, went by the name of Kaveri, Ganga, Yamuna, each signified and separated by a colour coded ( Fluorescent Blue, Green, Yellow, Red..) sleeveless vest !

Years when ‘competition’ didn’t mean valuation / contribution etc but simply : drawing, handwriting, essay writing et al !! And of course, those were the years when you got a prize for just showing up ! Yes. I recall winning a prize for two consecutive years years, for attending school without a single day of leave !! I wonder what i was thinking !

Those years of gleam eyed learning in the chemistry labs. In the library. In the Annual day. And the inevitable sinking feeling when the report cards showed up, or when parents were ‘summoned’ !

Years when ‘pedaling’ didn’t mean pedaling a stationary cycle to lose weight. But when you had to pedal all the way to school, and that you did with great fun ! And the jet black BSA SLR that stood gleaming at home, washed clean, many times in a week. My first set of wheels !

Years when you did not understand terrorism. When Soviet Union was ‘friend’, and disdain for anybody who said ‘America was good!’ Years of Span and Readers Digest. Years when you didnt care if your tie matched your shirt. And of course, didn’t care if the tie was in its place !

Years when you used to wear ‘colour dress’ on your birthday, and go from class to class, with a box of chocolates in your hand. Years when amma used to bake those wondrous sponge cakes !

Years when you didn’t understand what sex was ! And when you went up to appa, and asked aloud, (when he was with guests), ‘Appa, what is rape ?’. And tell him that the school has mandated reading of newspapers this question was part of home work !

Years when the only diet that you needed to be concerned of, was what was in the tiffin box, and of course,when calories where non-existent ! Years when holidays meant you play from morning to lunch time, have lunch, and then play from evening to late night and come home to have dinner and catch some sleep.

Years of static TV called Doordarshan. Of no FM radio. And no computers…. But those were years when you grew. Years that shaped you. Years that made you what you are today. Years that stay fresh in the mind. Every memory of it, brings a smile and a yearning for those times.

Today, classmates stay all scattered. Across the globe. Some working for those giant corporations, hospitals and other small companies. Many others, building their own organisations ! Still others married and settled down. And yet others remain untraceable !

But those shared years were the wonder years. Wonder years, when you could question anything and anybody. When the minds limit became clearer only when we graduated from each class to the next ! To me, those still are the defining years !

Defining wonder years !

A special thanks to Bala for the snaps !

A dream and a prayer ! Welcome ’09

Word Cache,
Clicked in Mumbai. Dec 2008

So lets welcome 2009.

Numerous SMS messages pour in. There are enterprises ranging from the odd peddler in the street corner, to the ones who peddle street corners, making noise about the new year. And making that extra effort to wish ‘You’ a very happy new year !

Amidst all that melee and din there is a quieter wish on this blog too. Shouting without speaking. Letting you know of a sincere prayer with all the strength that i can muster : A wish for a year which sees oodles of happiness and seas of fulfillment.

A prayer from the heart, for reason to prevail on you and me. And every inhabitant of this planet and other planets too. For peace to become a permanent coating on all our walls. A wish escapes from the soul, for sensitivity to the person next door. However similar or otherwise he is.

May there be abundance of health and cheer in your life. And may it travel far and wide, and become the only permeable infection in this world. And may there be no antidote that found for that infection !

May there be peace. May goodness be your permanent companion and fairness be your passport to higher orders. And let challenge and strength stretch us all and grow our shoulders.

May there be laughter. Dance. May there be reading. And writing. And a constant strife. To take civilisation forward.

May your children grow strong. Drawing strength from the resolve of your character rather than the strength of your bank balance. May they learn to see, understand, and appreciate that competition is not the end. But perhaps a means to an end.

May your worlds emerge from more clearer,when you take stock at the end of the year. And may they resonate with a spirit of having made an impact on a few lives. Or just going about what you do well, with character and honesty.

Clicked in Mumbai. Dec ’08

And when we close the year, with an honest years effort, may colour make its presence felt. May the brotherhood of man break every boundary possible. And may your joys multiply.

That may seem a tall order to you. But that’s my dream. And my prayer. For me. And for you. And for our collective future !

Wishing you the happiest of years yet ! Here’s to a great 2009 !!

This post concludes the four part series titled Defining Images ’08 !

True Suspended Animation

Word Cache
This is the third post of the Defining Images ’08 series. One more post to go !

There were intimate moments in 2008. Moments where the mind just escaped from the world and went somewhere, i couldn’t follow. It was misty, mostly pleasant. Sometimes queasy. Usually, delivering a high like none other. In ’08 these moments came in and whizzed by. The ‘trance like’ feel lasted for about five minutes before, i was shaken into reality by someone around. Here are some instances where i had the camera handy, to click a snap, immediately after the trance.

Image : I

Seated a few paces away ( physically and mentally) from a puja being conducted, i recall glancing into the fire, and to those oodles of oil / ghee that was poured in. To stoke the fire. In the background were mantras, all said in a specific chant. Chants that seemed familiar yet different. On that day.I kept watching hands of those priests, pour oil into the fire, and their mouths chanting mantras. The fire, the smoke and the chanting seemed to have a strange impact on me. Even as i sat there, i was aware of the eyes close, yet the leaping flames stay in the vision and then.. suspended trance.Was it because of the fire, the smoke, the mantras, the atmosphere or the over eating the previous night, i wouldn’t know. All i know, is that for some time, i was plugged in elsewhere. Whilst being aware of all what was happening around me.

It took a child’s forceful shake of my hand to shake me out of this suspended animation !!

Image : II

This picture was clicked from my balcony on Id. And Oct 2nd. And here is an earlier post.

On that particular day, i saw numerous young men walk the road below. In some time, there was a call of prayer from a mosque nearby. At that exact moment, in the apartment complex a Hindu family was ringing in a prayer with bells et al.

It was a moment of intense feeling of oneness of the God that we worship. An indescribable feeling. As the maulvi was calling out the faithful, the Hindu family below seemed to pray in cue ringing a bell. And Muslim men seemed to march to the bell.

But for those moments when the maulvi called and the bells rang, the goosebumps appeared on the skin like a thousand flowers blooming to an alarm clock ‘s chime !

And by the way, it was Oct 2nd. Gandhi’s birthday !

Image : III

At the Meenakshi Amman Temple in Madurai, this lady was feeding birds. There i was, sitting on the other side of the temple tank watching her feed birds. The nameless fluttering birds rallied around her. And she opened pack after pack of bird feed. Perhaps for a good 15 minutes.

As i sat there, birds continued to rally around her. Her diving hands reaching the depths of the packs she had, only to toss the feed with great care and finesse.

At that precise moment the diversity, depth and the omnipresence of kindness in every human being over awed me. The sheer possibility for each of us to impact every living being around us, simply lifted me to a different zone.

Image : IV
Clicked at Taj Malabar, Cochin
I will never be able to forget this swing. For just outside the wall, was the backwater ! And if you swing hard, for a few fleeting seconds, you are really over water. And as you swing back, you are back on land.

As i swung, the moisture laden breeze stoked the face. The sun was setting. And And at that moment, the fleeting nature of our problems, joys, anxieties and glories came alive. It seemed to me, that the swing there was giving me lessons…..

That to stay present and sensitive to people around, was how one could stay rooted. That it was OK to fail, but more important to try with imagination. That it was OK to differ, but important to differ with grace ! And no matter what the world thought, it was OK to be a simple ordinary bloke who did his bit in a quiet unobtrusive corner.

And for a good time, i was one. With myself. With that water. That floor. That sky. And of course, that swing too.

True suspended animation !

The business of enterprise

Word Cache, , ,

This is the second post of the Defining Images ’08 series. Two more posts to go !

An autorickshaw meter. Mumbai ’08

2008 saw some of the craziest ends of the spectrum for ‘Enterprise’ ! From surging highs to commanding lows, we saw it all. We saw the investment banks zoom up and in no time go down to touch what seems like a bottomless pit.

No, This post isn’t about them. It isn’t about Madoff. Or of Lehman or that ilk. Or or Satyam or Satyam reversed, called ‘Maytas’ ! Or whatever. I hardly understand their world. This is about a world my plebian mind can understand. But hasnt connected to in a while. 2008 was when i dialled and reached out to them. Here are a few images, reminiscences and lessons.


Image 1
Mumbai ’08

I stumbled into this gent. A barber by day and an odd poster sticker by night. I caught him staring into faces, carrying a box and wandering around. His Modus Operandi is to stare just long enough into faces just to catch the subtle stubble or extra centimeters of hair on the head.

Upon such spotting, a quick conversation follows, and in no time, a roadside place identified and there is lather on a new chin. Every stroke on the chin, complimented by a new honk from a different car in the background.

10 – 20 customers is all that he gets a day. ‘On a good day, 20’. He adds. Rs. 50 – 60 a day is good enough. And then, with a smile he adds : ‘i sleep well’. ‘Where do you live’, i ask him ? With a toothless smile he asks, ‘Can i give you a shave ?’

Image II

Mumbai ’08

In a central suburb of Mumbai, early in the morning. These stores are yet to open. And these obviously are not stores demarcated with branding on neon signboards with semi naked men and women exhorting me to open a spent wallet.

These are road side stalls that have its occupants selling fish. Each stall having a loyal client base. I see them following simple principles : Arrive on time. Serve every customer well. Stick to business. Be fast. Recognise the ones who come back with a wave and quick value adding banter. Move on. Keep overheads low.

They sustain. Every day, thousands throng here. It truly is a fish market in the auditory sense, at peak periods. Recession or no recession, the din continues here.

Except during non business hours. Like this morning, when empty baskets and an expectant stray cat greet my camera. Somehow that is much unlike the neon sign that are yet to switched on giant malls some distance away.


Image III

In a market. Mahabaleshwar ’08

He says, with a slight hint of a gasp for breath. But only slight. “I do trips like this all day long. The man who sells me this, cant find good customers. And the man who i sell these to, cant find good quality sellers. I connect them up, but i cant find transporters who will ferry small units and my shoulders just grow stronger !! ‘

My perfunctory questions follow. And he answers in the same vein. ‘I don’t keep count of the number of trips. I just watch for sellers and buyers. And their mood and what they say. Sometimes the sellers are desperate. Sometimes the buyer has a large order to service, and all they do is find me. Or someone like me.’ ‘

Someone who is truthful and honest’

I ask, why he does what he does. He looks puzzled. A new set of carrots arrive. He sorts and loads them on. With one final glance in my direction, shouts out, ” You wont understand’. He carries on.

I am left holding the camera and searching for meaning.

Those defined 2008 on the Enterprise side for me. Stick to simple principles. Seek out people and not things. Stay sensitive. Glitz is not growth. Honest still is the best policy, however cliched, old fashioned and disregarded that principle is. And don’t complicate things. A clear conscience and sound sleep is a natural consequence !

2008 reinforced all of that for me. Tapping me on my shoulder and helping me realise that i i perhaps could be veering off course, were i not careful.

Coming to think of this, this post was after all about satyam : The original straight forward satyam : Truth ! That was Enterprise ’08 for me !

Defining Images ’08 : Women of the year !

Word Cache, , , , ,
Clicked in Mumbai Sept ’08

There are iron rods that jut out in the incomplete apartment complex next door. Seeming to arch out and reach the sky. Getting closer to the blue beyond and cotton clouds, everyday, a new floor climbed. Hoisted with bricks, cement, mortar, steel.

All in exchange of perhaps three square meals, happiness on a toddlers face and for inflaming the hopes beyond. At lunch time, they take a break. All those who climb those incomplete stairs of the yet to be complete buildings, hauling over bricks and mortar.

There is one lady who i watch today. A lady who hurriedly canters to a small shed. From a distance, through all the din and dust, i hear a toddlers smirk of happiness and a mothers voice.

In a moment they emerge. An elder daughter swinging a discarded bottle follows. She has him on her hip. Sings a song in a language that is alien to me as they walk by. Mother. Daughter. Baby. Unaware of my or anybody elses presence, they seems present in her world. Fully present there.

The lady stops for what seems to be a fleeting second. With one swoop of her other hand and a slight bend, wipes clean construction equipment from the floor and ports it atop her head.

My camera goes click click obscuring the chord that tugs the heart. From somewhere, my own amma telling our childhood stories stream in. ‘kandhalile muthucharam kappathi kattivaithen..’ ( From tatters i saved this string of pearls just for you..), she used to say, repeating lines from a film song.

Today, with an elegance that could compare a Russian gymnast on a trapeze, this lady of this hot Mumbai afternoon sways along. Presumably for lunch. Lullaby on her lip, work load on her head and love on her hip.

Long after they are gone, the alien lullaby & toddlers response still rings my ear. And i do not wonder why.


Image II

Mahabaleshwar ’08

It is around 6.30 AM. Mahabaleshwar. I walk the road to breathe in the fresh air and soak myself in. In some distance, a bundle of quiver seems to canter in my direction, at a brisk pace.

As she comes closer, i see a frail old woman. A bundle on her head. Barefoot. Carrying her slippers along. One on each hand. She seems to canter on. Each step is a struggle, i can see. And it takes a while for her to cross me. Slippers. Bundle et al in hand.

I am curious. To say the least. I turn around. And walk. Following her. In an obscure distance.

From afar i see a young lady approaching us. We walk on. They cross each other, with a greeting and wave. A slippery wave that is ! And the young woman tells her aloud, just as they are passing each other, ‘you should be wearing those slippers and not carrying them’.

She replies, with a panting quiver, ‘Shiri gave this to me. I don’t want to damage this…these will look good on ..( i cant quite catch the name)..’. She walks on. A few seconds later, a louder quiver emerges from the same throat. ‘I can do without these..‘ and as the voice trails off, i realise that the trail leads somewhere where i have no access to.

I drop off the trail. Staring into the sun, and the mist soaked land. I don’t have to look very far for love & promise. I realise.

Pedantic incidents, these may seem to you. To me, these shaped my 2008. Perhaps re-shaped, my mental map about hope, possibilities and women! There are two other women that i wrote about earlier. Do check out Vanita and the other woman that i know for a while now.

PS: On a completely different note, the missus and the mother-in-law are not featured here. Given the fact that they have ‘controlling interests’ in my life and therefore on this blog, featuring them here may involve a certain degree of conflict of interests. So in the interest of probity in public life… !!!

Merry Christmas !

Word Cache, , ,
Clicked on MG Road. Bangalore. Dec ’06

“The magi, as you know, were wise men–wonderfully wise men–who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication”.

Those were lines from a tale that i read for an English lesson in class eight. I think. In the melee of exams and studies, this story tugged my heart and left a mark. But my appreciation, back then was largely academic. (I think). Today, its meaning, importance and relevance assume special significance ! (Ok. Ok. Yes. I am slow… !)

In the ‘getting’ melee that all of us are in, i think ‘giving’ requires some attention.

Yes ! Its time to give. To heal the world. To spread some cheer. To help put some honest food on the table and some true cheer to the heart. Its time !

As the world seems to hurtle towards a far flung place, its time we realise that it is in us to perhaps help change course, from ‘Getting’ to ‘Giving’ ! Both, for the world and for us. Beginning with us. Yes, Us. You and Me. To show that the course that we chart is worthwhile and possible.

An honest, happy, fair and a ‘giving’ course !

The wise old Magi began the art of Christmas presents. Its time for us to look beyond the materials and malls, and look at giving. A giving that is beyond all that we have ever given in the past.

Perhaps just to see a small little smile in a remote corner that doesn’t matter to the world any longer. Or not even that. Perhaps because ‘giving’, is what will sustain us all !!!

Its Christmas time people. Its time to give. Its time to become the new Magi.

Clicked on Airport Road. Bangalore. Dec ’06

I clicked this a couple of years back. I have been brought up with the thought, that God lives everywhere. Especially so, in every act of human kindness. Jesus can reside between the Airport and Indiranagar. And i think i am well qualified to become the Magi. So are you.

Wishing you a very happy Christmas. We may live in distant lands and difficult times, but we are united in our hope for a better tomorrow and possibilities that lie within mankind ! The possibility to reach out and give !

So, here is a wish from Mumbai : May the celebrations bring great cheer and lasting happiness. To each of your families, a heartfelt, humble and true wish for a great Christmas and a fantastic time of peace, health, hope and great cheer.