Curator and the child

Me: the grass has been mowed well,
And the fences painted.

Also me: slide and roll on the green bed,
Chase butterflies, eat few snacks,
And colour the white fence.

ME again: creepers designed on sticks,
Billboards with what to do and what-not to placed,
And an eye on every trespasser.

Again me: bring down the creeper,
Dive and crawl into the grass,
Pluck some fruits and climb over the tree.

When the curator in me wants the ground to stay clean,
The child in me screams out to run mad.
In the whirlpool to contain professional curator and the child,
I let the curator win for living.

#dreamsoflife

It’s mothers day, but the news channels are tagged with the question on safety of women. our mothers, sisters, daughters and friends, none are safe. on a bigger perspective not even the men are. the ones who fall to the distress and commit these crimes are also someone’s son, brother or a friend.

Let’s try to make this world a better place, let’s have the dreams have wings, rather than chopping it of before they even bloom. Happy mothers day. Stay safe, let others be safe.

#waiting

#waiting (translation):
When the twilight dawns
We started our day,
And when the moon was drowsy,
We said good bye.
A tea and a snack,
Was the binding matter,
Rest were the souls.

Time has passed by,
The old Neem tree still stands awaiting,
But we moved away to fulfill the life.

It’s unknown why time moves,
But the mystery is why friends part.
Though i know,
I took the first step to move.
I realize now
that now when i look back…
I’m just me…

#thinkingcotton

cotton is just a soft ball that we use everyday, but never take it serious. It has nothing to do with our lives, but just dress us, clean us, color us and more importantly heal us when we are wounded.

Last day, this ball of cotton made me think of  how our life’s philosophy is related to a ball of cotton.  We all are remembered when our friends and relatives are hurt, but forgotten once they are back to normal phase of happiness.

Suicide: a murderous option

She pushed another piece of firewood into hot chulha. By the time her children came, she was making their lunch ready. Appu and Raju would come running for their meals, even though school provided mid-day meal, they preferred eating from their mother. Wiping off another drop of sweat, she continued baking roti for her cherries.

“Appu’s mother?” someone called out from the door. “A visitor in this burning sun?” She was a bit shocked when a stranger called. She walked out to front door and found some men with a child in their hand. “What happened to my son?” with tears pouring out of eyes she ran and grabbed the little body from the hands of the village man. “He fell on the way”, said Appu with a low voice. “What happened tell me the truth? Did u do something? She pulled him by hand and asked. “We are leaving, your elder son called us to take bring him home, so we came.” “Thank you” she replied with gratitude. Villagers departed.

She sat on the corridor, and asked Raju, “What happened sweet heart?” “We were running and coming here; accidentally I stamped on a stone and fell.” He told her with tears flowing. “Don’t cry my son. Is it hurting?” she asked. She was sure of it though. She could see a discoloration on the knee, which in fact meant another joint bleed.

She took them inside, painkiller she had kept as precaution. She instructed 8-year-old Appu to fresh up, who was rubbing the legs of his younger brother Raju who had just turned 6. Appu knew he can’t apply direct pressure, as that can increase the chances of a bleed. Appu, had his portion of roti, and saw mother caring Raju and feeding him. Raju, who had a ‘funny feeling’ in the knee, had a screwing pain, which stopped him from having food or even resting. Mother told Appu to go and inform father who was in the fields. And requested him to walk slowly so that he doesn’t hurt his already injured knee. Planting a kiss on his forehead, she asked him to go.

Appu returned with his father, in a flash. Father was sweating, he was panting. Breathing heavy he looked at the swollen leg of his younger son, Raju. Mother and he shared a glance and nodded. She wept out. He knelt and tried consoling her. “I will get some money from someone. Will take him to hospital.” Father assured as mother wept loudly on his chest. “Don’t worry nothing will happen” saying so he walked out.

Agriculture didn’t yield much to fulfill the hunger of four stomach and then for the treatment of their children. Appu and Raju had bleeding disorder, which is also known as Hemophilia. Their parents had spent lacs for the treatment of both, not so long before this fall of Raju. “Is he going to be fine?” Appu asked mother in a worried tone. Everything is going to be fine, saying so she hugged both her children tight. Tears followed as though out of a reservoir. Raju, who had a terrible pain in the knee, found comfort in the motherly warmth, he slipped into sleep as mother held him tight to her chest.

“Another ransom today, another term of treatment. Stay in the Bangalore city without job? None to look after the fields. Another devastating yield. What will we eat once back?” the questioned echoed in her head. “how good their life is going to be like this?” she was breaking down. Dark was taking over, sun had hidden somewhere in the horizon, for no reason apparent.

Raju had slipped into deep sleep. She slowly laid him down, and got up. Wiping her tears away, she prayed to the God one last time. “Oh Lord, give me the strength. Today I want it most.” She bit her tongue and her pain.

Waking up Appu, she gave him some pills, for building internal strength. The pills were sleeping pills. She sat beside him watching him slipping into sleep. Kissing his forehead, and reassuring him that she loved him a lot, but can’t love him long enough.

Taking 2 feet rope with shivering hands, she decided to end her and Raju’s life.

Salvation; moksha from the terrible life.

Father rushed in to the house to find his wife and young son hanging. He was broken; his screams bought neighbors, who took the three to local hospital. Hospital confirmed death of Raju and mother, but fortunately or unfortunately, they could save Appu.

Appu and his father walked back into Hemophilia Society Bangalore Chapter, where they are counseled and given new hope. Chapter does what it can in the best manner. But nothing else in the world can replace a mother’s love, a brother’s shore up.

One decision of committing suicide, left many lives strangled. The lives that are prone to bleed, have blood flowing as tears for the rest of life.

#atwork

when Janjo Jose, my friend bought me this image, I had it framed immediately with my words. surrounded by the colleagues who need a smoke for solutions to come, or to stay awake, or to let the creativity flow out. we in corporate have witnessed the tragedies, where the smoke just takes over uninvited. lives, families, and dreams just fade away in to the smoke.

One day it hit me

One day it hit me,
When? how? I won’t know,
But it just… Hit me.

The wise said,
Be happy, it’s not gonna get you killed.
But it would shatter me;
They never said.
They, the one who had been hit before,
And couldn’t recover ever.

When it at all begin,
It was a bite of cherry,
And I didn’t know it was chilly in disguise.
The bite that bought smile,
Was feasting on me now.

The magic had taken me to ninth cloud,
I was the Princess Anna,
But the magic had the all-consuming color too,
The color of end,
The darkness,
And it caught me in its clutches.
The fire took me under its hood.
I was weeping,
I was perishing.

Call it the magic,
Or the darkness,
Call it the forbidden fruit,
Or a poisoned cherry.
Once you go for it,
You are never out of it.

You may call it anything,
But I will stamp it as…
Gruesome Love.

*********

the idea is not mine, it didn’t hit me anytime recently though. I thank RUMs for the idea she planted, and for allowing me to put them in this format here….

#afterwork

It’s not easy after a day long work in the office to be fresh, but there are these souls you meet on your go, who bring smiles and makes you forget the tiredness and boredom. over the cup of icedtea-coffee-vada-tea-paratha and books we didn’t discuss any path breaking science success, or a time changing political decision.

Silence, smiles, and few verses from The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, Marlon Brando, Alpacino… they were in our thoughts and talks.

It’s not everyone’s talent to bring smiles, but the few who does, are rarer than diamond.

Tandav an Indian Inception

It’s been a really long time since words have come out to me. As another year ends, on 365^th day of the year I decided to go back to the days, of last 365 days that I could recheck. And the day that first came running from my memory was: 16^th November 2014

The day, which I and many of my friends had asked to mark and book in the busy schedules; the Tandav day.

Tandav day was nothing but the day long ago dream came true. The dream that Vishnu had seen, and imparted into the minds of many of us, in the same clinical manner that Christopher Nolan did in Inception. If Vishnu was Nolan, we all had our little and big part to play in it.

Like Inception, the stage was set in an uncommon place. Huge concrete pillars and slabs stood like huge mushroom umbrellas as in a fairy tale. The Bangalore Metro Rail Corporation (BMRCL) had welcomed the idea with open hands as we shared our dreams to them. Hence, the small huts below the Vivekananda Metro Station became the dreamland seen in the snaps of Disney Land.

When Apoorva finalized the venue (her puppy face expressions played a crucial part) clouds of questions and anxiety filled minds. But as the species called volunteers pitched in as fairies the story got going. Experience and expertise of Rajesh Menon combined with organizing skills of Divya, Antony, Sonu’s ‘Achan and makal gang’ and many other volunteers, who had pitched to give the dream a complete form.

Plans, conflicts, ideas, search for resources, using the resource; it would be hard for anyone to believe that all these were achieved in a time frame of 45 days ( the only shorter thing that humans make happen would be ‘salvation’ by taking a 7 day fast). Nervousness was catching up, we all were set to become Insomniacs by the end of the 3^rd Sabbath day of November.

Fingers crossed, we waited as the time ticked away. As the first bus arrives with kids, we said a silent good luck to self, and had a wonder on how to begin. And came energy filled Sowmya who hung the huge dhol on her shoulder, and set the Tandav floor on fire. Her energy has never been on lower since I know her (will pray it stays double charged). Kids marched in with smiles and joined us on the main stage as the program began.

If volunteers were our pillars on realizing the dreams the ones who driven it were the facilitators. They walked with us since the day Vishnu had implanted the dream in their minds. A lovely and energetic team of Alexandra, Nupur, Neethu, Kavitha, Prerna, Mahuri, Tarun and Sandeep (Apologies if I missed any) took the day on their own, by introducing and imparting various dance forms, and telling them how to step up to the tunes they hear.

A day which stood witness to the inclusion in art on a different stage, a day when the rain drops let the Little Jhony’s and Cinderella’s play with heart out. If our volunteers guided Visually Impaired by gestures, Autism and Down Syndrome kids had taken the stage to teach us, how special they are. When most of us were taken aback by the sheer beauty of the performance, a crew lead by Vishal made it sure that every moment was captured in their lens.

Today even after more than a month, when we meet people at various events, we are asked on Tandav, and how many of them could not make and missed the day. As Fathima, another volunteer had said Tandav hangover is still reflected via FB profile pictures, cover pictures and many WhatsApp groups that were formed for Tandav discussions, but still alive due to the bonding between members.

Yes, Tandav stands out as a Christopher Nolan movie. Mysteries, dreams, perfection of execution, and with every character knowing their roles, it has become one of the blockbuster event of the year.

At the end I would thank every name I mentioned and every face that comes to mind when I think of Tandav for such beautiful day. As I end the words, am dreaming of bigger and better Tandav.

LET’s Tandav

Filling Generation Gap in Generation

Dad bought him a bag because; his bag had several stiches than bombardment victim could have. The next option for him was to carry books in a sack. Now his son has demanded third bag in that year, only because the character on the bag was no more his favorite. What you call this as? Generation Gap!

Maybe yes maybe no. A decade back when his dad took his bag to repair, he never complained. For he knew, his dad can’t afford a bag. Family budget couldn’t accommodate another expense. But this day, he has to accommodate the new demand. His son hardly knows what it is to budget, however knows he just needs it. Again Generation Gap!?

Driving up to the children’s home with a stack of bags which came as donation, the picture of the two generations rushed into my mind. I belonged to the privileged class whose bags and books were replaced, before demanded.

These bags that we carried had unique color and pictures on them, unlike the Marvel, DC and Cartoon Network character bags that are on high demand in the shops. Children welcomed us with smiles. They were happy that ‘Anna’ and ‘Akka’ (Big brother and Sister) were back with some surprises for them. They were eager to carry the stack up to the larger classroom, where they all can sit and shoulder their new book and tiffin bearers.

Around 45 children sat eagerly to finish our talking. As we tried communicating and knowing how their school days went, their eyes were tagged to the stack. Their unsaid demand, “Finish it soon we want bags” echoed.

Giving away bags, and watching them tearing away the covers to unveil the bags, was a joy. They didn’t complain on the character, none of them said they like Doremon and won take Ben10 or the vice versa. Only concern that popped up was, will they be enough to carry their luggage?! The modest caretakers intervened and confirmed us that they will guide them on it and not to worry.

Folding their hands, when they said “Thank you” united, our day was made. The thank you that will reverberate, the thank you we responded for accepting us, had a cheerful meaning to it.

Tomorrow they will walk into the school, see other bags, and then what? When the more privileged announces his leisure, what will run across their minds? And what do we call this? Generation Gap in current Generation!?

Let’s not draw lines between young minds, it would be a request to all DO NOT feel offended to tell the truth, be it to your children or your partner. A better world can only be visualized when everyone knows and understand each other’s struggles.

NOTE: Team VFC’s visit to Uttarahalli School, Bangalore. We are thankful to Sowmya and her office colleagues for the bags donated for our children.