From a teacher's diary

From a teacher’s diary

It was the D- day for our class. I was the class teacher of  9A; a class of 41. If one word

could bring out the characteristics of the whole class it would be ‘brilliant’. Not that every child performed exceedingly well in academics, but still they were brilliant. Anyway that was my impression about that class. For me it was a treat to be with them. It may not be very civil to say this, but some classes were just punishments for the teachers, including me. It is a mystery how each class acquires its own characteristics. It could be that there are a few in every class who could influence the whole, either positively or negatively; that is my finding. Influence of the teacher cannot be neglected but among the teen agers, peer group comes first and then only the teachers, in the normal case.

Coming back to the D- day: our class was going to perform a skit on the stage in the morning assembly. Other than the usual proceedings like prayer, pledge and thought for the week, we sometimes have a guest’s speech, but this kind of a performance by a whole class was not usual in the assembly . I had to argue my case and get special permission from the principal to have the show of my class. Our timing was right, in the sense,after one week we were going to have guest students from the UK as a part of the student exchange program. The whole school was in a cleaning spree. Our skit was based on cleanliness in the school environment.

All the children in the class came a few minutes earlier than usual, had a quick last minute rehearsal and we were ready. The class was divided into two groups of 20 each and they would stand on either sides in a row while one leader Shankar, would stand in the middle near the central microphone and. He would say the opening lines and would lead the chorus through out the skit. That was how it was planned.

When the time came, I went down from back of the stage to be with the rest of the school. I was confident that the students would perform with utmost precision and agility.. They were thorough, we had practiced so well. Everyone took their positions with Shankar in the middle. School captain announced the show and requested the primary children to go to the shades so as to make them more comfortable. Then he gave the microphone to Shankar. He held it in his right hand, viewed the whole school assembled in front of him, 1000 and more students and 150 and more teachers. Seconds ticked off. He stood there, dazed, staring blank, not making a sound. Whole campus was silent, waiting. Seconds grew into minutes – 2,3,4. Nothing happened! Not a word from Shankar! I don't know when I started sweating, but by the end of those 4 minutes, I was drenched. I could see his hand that held the microphone shivering. He was looking pathetically at me, at the gathering, at the teachers…., he was under a panic attack of stage fear. Then, in a decisive moment, he inserted the mike in its stand, turned back and walked out of the stage! After a moment of hesitation, the rest 40 also turned back and followed Shankar! I looked at the principal, our eyes met and I got burn blisters all over me. School captain gave the order for dispersal of the assembly. No explanation or excuses were given. There was nothing to give. I could hear laughter from different sources, collective and individual. I could see jeering faces.

I went straight to the principal’s room, apologised profusely and requested to give a second chance. With a lot of hesitation and ‘ are you sure’ questions, she agreed.

I reached the class with the attendance register to take the morning attendance. Not one head was lifted, not even the usual sing-song ‘good morning’, some didn't even stand up. Some girls had wet red eyes. I didn't have to take attendance since I already knew that all were present. Without the slightest hint of accusation, I said, “ So, children, at noon all of
you finish your lunch fast and come to the auditorium. We have practice from 12.45 for 15 minutes. We are going to the stage day after tomorrow.” Suddenly there were screams of ‘No’, and ‘Not Again’….. I waited patiently for the commotion to subside and then as if nothing had happened, looked at Shankar and said “ you are going to be the lead and there won't be any change in it”. He got up from his seat, came near the teacher’s table and said, “Mam,…. I can't do it. I …I let down the whole class, I may do it again, no, I am sure I will do it again…. I am… nervous…

“Shankar, if you give up now, you won't be able to look at yourself for a longer time than what you think. You will pass out of this school with a lingering sense of failure deep in your heart which may not be explicit to everyone. So there is no choice for you. You are going to do it. My confidence in you has not the least changed. Give all your burden to me, go with a light heart, if you fail , I am responsible, fully…. I am saying this because I am so sure you will not fail. He lifted his head , looked into my eyes and I saw it there – a sudden resolution. That was enough. I patted his back without another word and left the class.

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After 15 years I met Shankar at TDM Hall. We had gone there for a wedding; I for my ex-student’s and he for his ex- classmate’s. The whole ‘9A’ gang was there. We spoke like in olden times. All of them were well placed. Some were married, some were engaged,, we playfully teased each other reminding them of their old mannerisms and spoonerisms.

When Shankar said he was a probationary officer with SBI, I asked how was the interview, hinting his old time nervousness. Everybody laughed. He said he topped for interview. I wanted to hug him but didn't. After a few minutes I said good bye and walked to the car park. Shankar came along, leaving others there. He said he wanted to tell me something for a long time but didn't know how to contact me etc. He asked, “Mam, do u remember an incident that took place in our class while we were in 9 th std?” Of course I knew what he meant. He said, “ That was a turning point in my life. Ever after that incident I have never felt nervous to face any situation so far. You asked me about SBI interview. I did very well and I think I owe it to the way you handled me when I faltered miserably on that day.” Once more I wanted to hug him but didn't. I simply said, “ Oh , Shankar , you made my day!” What I wanted to say was you made my teaching career meaningful, but I didn't.

An age of substance

                                                        An Age Of Substance 

 Creaking sound of iron rubbing on iron as the swing goes back and forth......, a  field of white gypsum hillocks......,shuttle cock flying in the air after every swish sound of cock hitting the gut.... film songs in full blast from the theatre,sharp at 5.45 PM - Shakunthaley... Shakunthaleeeey...... theseare the predominant memories of my childhood, my FACT Township life. I lived there till I was 15. And then, after a short break of about 5 years, again for some more years, but in a different role.

                          Before I started my schooling, that is before 1960 there was a row of A-type quarters near the present market. I was staying in one of those houses. View of a vast stretch of paddy field from the front veranda... My FACT memories start from there. There was no market at that time. The paddy field would flood during rainy season. Wow! What a sight! What a thrill and excitement! Wading in knee deep water...catching fish with bath towel...All that was over when the fields were filled up and much later, a market was set up on one side with a bus stop in front of it. Though the scenic beauty was taken away, I have to admit that the market was indeed a blessing for all the people in the quarters. Shops were not many near that area. Looking back, I think that market didn’t get the national award for cleanliness only because there was no such award. It would have met international standards for cleanliness with no flies or heaps of waste or even a bad smell. How could they manage it?

                            I studied in the FACT LP School, just about 10 meters away from my house which was adjacent to the Udyogamandal Club. (We had shifted by then.) The schoolwas later demolished to build quarters. I am talking about the early 60s. It was during that period that English was made the medium of instruction in one division of each class. The other divisions continued with Malayalam medium. Some parents used to give special tuition for English to their wards, lest they fall back in their performance because learning all subjects in English was completely new to many. Generally, parents were well aware and ambitious about their children. I remember the long front veranda, a large (so it seemed for a 3ft child) playground at the back with a sweet tamarind tree at the boundary. Teachers.....? I remember Mrs Noel.  She taught all subjects up to class 4. Elegant and lady-like, she used toencourage and appreciate her students with out reservations, which was not very common in those days. Teachers and parents were mostly critical and did not show off mercy or compassion since they believed in ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ ism. Mrs Noel dared to spare the rod. The authority of elders was unquestionable in those days. I remember that we friends didn’t criticise them even in our very private conversations. Here, let me place a wreath in memory of those days.

                                  After class 4 we had to go to another school opposite to FACT Training School which was a bit far from my house. Though during that time it held classes from 5 to 10, soon after I reached there, the classes from 8 to 10 were shifted to a new place near FACT House. So, I moved fromLP School to a world beyond the gypsum hillocks near the factory gate. It was called ‘convent school’, though there was nothing conventish about it except that it was an old convent building which was taken over by FACT. When I think of that school, all that I could remember is that it looked rather like an 18th century building, but well preserved. There were plenty of fruit trees, especially sappottas (chikku) and mangoes. But I don’t remember plucking or eating any. We believed plucking or eating those fruits which did not belong to us was a serious offence. While I write this, I myself wonder if we were really half wits. So if any reader thinks so, he is excused. But I wish....if only I had one more chance! The long walk from home to school was not long for me in those days. (Sorry if this sounds like a cliché). Or was it really not that long; I am not sure now .The gypsum field was in the last lap of the route. A large area covered with heaps of soft white material with streaks of yellow here and there! And you walk over it! It was fun, indeed. It was not a level ground;there were steep ups and downs. We happily treaded over it and never gave a second thought to environmental pollution or health hazards. During rainy seasons one had to place each step very cautiously or that slimy thing would surely let youdown! But that didn’t deter us from taking the same route, we never thought of going through any other way. Later, I happened to know that gypsum was an industrial waste and the company was finding it difficult to dispose it of. In small quantities it was sold but there was much more than the demand. 

                After 3 years of gypsum walk, for classes 8, 9 and 10 we were to go to a more sophisticated place called FACT High School near the FACT House. Sree Keshava Pillai was the Head Master. It was an impressive new building with speakers in each class room which was a novelty for the students as well as the teachers. Morning assembly proceedings were through the microphone fitted in each classroom and so we didn’t really assemble for the assembly. As for the school playground it was large enough to host All Kerala Athletic meets. Though never an athlete, and have not run even a 50 meter race in my life time, I too was in the fieldin the capacity of a girl guide, doing some errands like fetching water to some one etc. Anyway, my most cherished memories of the high school are all associated with those athletic meets. School annual days were rather serious affairs. Prize distribution to the winners for all the events of that whole academic year was the highlight for me. C.A. Shivaram, an extraordinarily brilliant student, used to come with a gunny bag (literally) to carry 15 to 20 prizes that he would get! Now he is a doctor somewhere in the US (brain drain).

              We had well equipped labs and devoted teachers to handle all the subjects. Vidyasagar for Maths, Aacharya and Unni Menon for Malayalam, Saradamma for English and Social Studies, Sundaram Pillai for science, Sreevasthava for Hindi.....Oh! Sreevasthava. He was simply sincerity incarnated. He was believed to be hand picked by Sri M. K. K. Nayar from UP to teach chaste Hindi to the students of FACT school. He surely did rise up to the expectations of the MD. He and his family were living in a house near FACTHouse and daily he walked to the market at a specific time in the evening between 6 and 6.30. To impress him, we made it a point to read our Hindi lessons loudly as and when he approached our street. The next day when he comes to the class he would correct the mistakes, especially pronunciation, that each one had made the previous day! Those were the times..!

                      One of the happiest days of our childhood was the day our exams were over and the school closed for the holidays. We spent longer hours in the ladies’ club children’s park area. On the swing.... on the slide.... or on the concrete bench, just chatting with friends. The sound of the swing would ring through the evening air which was mostly quiet and peaceful. Sometimes we would go for walks through the streets in the quarters - the streets that even the youngest of us could manoeuvre blindfolded. We would visit our friends’houses if they had not turned up in the club that day, to make sure everything was all right or on the way steal a glance of the beautiful new brides like Mrs. Venuprasad, who had recently moved in to the quarters.

                             

                        We children had only two seasons in a year – the Seshasayee Tournament season and the Non- SeshasayeeTournament season. During the Seshasayee season the otherwise quiet and tranquil colony will be elevated to a buzzing gala festive arena. Shuttle badminton players would arrive from different parts of India: Prakash Padukone, Suresh Goyal, Satheesh Bhatiya, Ghosh brothers, etc. I don’t remember who won the championship every year but I do remember their style of taking a shot and also how handsome they were! And I have clear recollection of us girls sitting in the gallery of Udyogamandal Club, mesmerised by the sheer charm and elegance of these players. They would transform the courts, where we the FACT kids learned to take our first steps, to a magic land. They opened to us windows to a world of which we knew very little. These tournaments must have been an impetus for the aspiring players among us. The shuttle coach Balagopal who was appointed by FACT was another reason for changing the life of quite a few. JessyPhilip, Anto David, Norien Padua and her brothers,Susi.V.John are just a few. Thanks to the sports quota and also their hard work and persistence, they reached places.

                 After the tournament, when the players had all left, we would resume our routine of going to the club with our racket as soon as we come back from the school. We would be in good form with newly found vigour and enthusiasm. Each one would try to imitate her favourite player and surprisingly, we used to play better for a few days. Even one of the lousiest players like me was not an exception. But I think there were many others who were able to keep up the spirit much longer.

                    The All India Writers Conference of 1965 is another event that still lingers in my mind. From all over India the most eminent writers of that period came to Udyogamandal Club. In spite of the workers union putting up a protest demonstration against such ostentatious festivals, the conference was held for days with great pomp and show. At that young age we gained a glimpse of the elite literary personalities of the nation, we listened to their speeches; we took part in their welcome ceremonies. 

                    The Club swimming pool, though not a big onewas unique in the sense, swimming pools were extremely rare in Ernakulam district. It could even be the only one in the whole of the district during that time. The National champion, Keshavan Nair was promptly employed by FACT and he was the swimming coach of the club. But somehow, swimming did not electrify the colony as shuttle tournaments did. Though it might sound silly, I feel that for a rather conservative society, even partly baring the body was not very appealing and that was one reason there were no swimming champions from the township at that time!

                          FACT theatre was also something unique. No other company in the vicinity, like, TCC, IRE, Glass Factory etc, had a theatre in its colony. One had to go to Ernakulam or Alwaye to see a movie. All the films which came to Ernakulam theatres were brought to us within a gap of two or three months. The theatre was a blessing in many ways. Even though there was rationing enforced by parents – one film per month - we gained general awareness about films and actors and film songs. Daily, before the show started, they playedfilm songs through loudspeaker. The music instantly would lift up the spirit of the Township children, may be elders also,and no body ever complained about sound pollution or such things. The same theatre was the venue for dramas, dances and music events. K.J. Yesudas and Chitra have performedthere. We have witnessed magic shows by Sri Bhagyanath, drama by KPAC, mimicry show by Jayaram (actor) and partyand many more in that humble asbestos building.

                             FACT Township had its own characteristics. The most outstanding one was its socialism. There were abundant opportunities for every child irrespective of his father’s status in the company. No body was looked up or looked down by virtue of his father’s position. The colony was more like a large joint family for us, the children. If by any chance our parents couldn’t attend to any of our needs, always some maamy (that is what we called other kids’ mothers) will be there for us. People regularly visited each other, they were concerned. Recently I happened to read an excellent book written by Veena Venugopal, a FACT product of the younger generation. She is of my son’s age group. She seemed to echo some of the thoughts and feelings I have expressed here about the Township. (I mean, vice verse). So in a strange way, time has stood still for two generations, for the betterment of the inhabitants of a ‘lonely planet’ called FACT Township. Though the present condition of the same place brings tears of sorrow, I am aware of how privileged I was at some point of time to be an inhabitant of a veryprogressive Township with loving inmates. And how I wish the one man behind all these, Sri M.K.K Nayar could have a resurrection, at least to see that his dreams were not all futileand that many of his people have reached shores before it was too late.  

  

An Obituary of a Liberated

K.L.Mohana Varma,the famous novelist was the chief guest of the day.It was the third day of the film festival.After screening Adoor Gopalakrishnan's Elippathayam, there was a Marathi film too.People didn't disperse after the film show.It was 12.45 noon.We all patiently waited to listen to Mohana V
arma.He came, stood at the podium and viewed the audience for a few seconds, silently.Then he started: 'I feel happy to see so many people but I am also sad to notice something.Only a very few ladies are present here to appreciate such films.... .I wonder why women are not reaching a level, a standard.....This is not the first time I am witnessing this disheartening phenomenon.....'. He went on.I couldn't listen to him after a few minutes.I felt greatly disturbed,agitated.Everybody around me was engrossed in K.L.Mohanavarma.
Yes, in fact,there were only very few ladies who had come ,not that day alone, but the previous days of the festival also.Sitting there, I visualised the wives of all the 200 and odd men who were listening to the novelist...Some of them were doing the finishing touches to the dishes they were to produce at the table very soon.Their husbands will be coming back hungry;they could be very critical if food is lousy,especially today being a holiday, the wife was 'sitting at home all day'.Some were ironing the clothes for those who would go out of the house the next day .Yet others were with their little ones coaxing them to do their assignments,preparing them for the mid term tests, listening to their woes and complains,solving their social issues....A few were sitting in front of the T.V,occasionally wondering where their husbands had gone.... and how long they will have to wait to have lunch....Soon the men would return to their homes,fresh steaming food would be served,plates would be cleared off the table,vessels would be washed and put back..
Suddenly I woke up to the novelist's long pause.Then he asked,'When we talk of the liberation of women so loudly through our movies like the ones screened today,I wish they would show more interest and involvement...'. Thankfully, I didn't feel any surge of adrenaline any more.

Two weeks back there was a get-together of four families ;we four ladies and our husbands.Men were ex-classmates, meeting after a long time.All of them have made their lives,children well settled etc,etc.At some point our conversation slipped to the topic of the increasing number of divorces.Though many reasons were discussed,generally everyone seemed to share the opinion that large number of marriages were breaking down because of the false feeling of independence and pride of the girls,their inability to adjust,their intolerance...As usual I was more of an observer and a listener rater than a speaker ,not out of preference but because what I wanted to say always seemed to strike a discord.I am scared of being stamped with a different colour, of losing their comradeship.One friend was talking of the great sanctity attached to the institution called marriage in olden days.....come what may, the ladies did put up with any situation for the sake of harmony in the family..which in turn led to their happiness...A woman is the lamp of the house...She has to burn if she needs to be ...
I remembered another discussion which took place a long time ago, inside a car.Five of us ,including a very popular widower uncle ,his daughter and her husband were going somewhere.My uncle was talking about his wife who was no more.He was all in praise for her.What a patient lady she was,blessed with a lot of talent,how efficiently she run the day to day affairs of the family,catering to all his whims and fancies which included his special taste in food,his clothes,his bath...He said he was hundred percent satisfied with her...,with his marriage...Suddenly his daughter asked a question,'Can u say the same about her? Was she hundred percent satisfied with you? With her marriage?'He stopped abruptly,looked at his daughter as if she just spoke blasphemy in Greek.From his expression it was obvious that such a question had never crossed his mind.Even the possibility of such a question had not occurred to him even remotely. He looked through the window.Nobody spoke .And then he was heard mumbling,'I don't know'.

The daughter made her point for the sake of her dead mother.

I copied that daughter to make my point - Are you sure the female members of the joint family you were talking about were happy ?' A discord was struck ,as I feared.The conversation was turning to be an argument...... The happiness of the women depended on the happiness of the men...,they were selfless and were proud of living for their folk...,they were the people who stooped to conquer...
I don't know,it may be right.But I know of only ladies who have got nothing but a hunch back by stooping through out their lives, or at the best ,a posthumous Veera Chakra as awarded by the uncle on that day, in the car.I might be wrong.

Last week I told a close friend of mine ,a noble soul ,that I had started a blog last year but somehow ,of late am not writing anything in it.She wanted to know the blog address to see what was in it.Next day she called.She and her husband read the blog .They liked it..., they didn't know I wrote such stuff...,I was known to them as a person of few words....(of course,they couldn't have meant 'of wisdom')....And then very innocently ,without the least intention of offending me, she asked -

'Did your husband help you to write all this?'

WHAT ? !

'No,no...What I meant was ,did he ... did he edit it....er..may be ....I mean ,told some comments to help...sorry ,it was ...it was ..my husband ..who had the...er..doubt.'

I DIED , A SUDDEN DEATH.

SO GOD, I AM COMING .I HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS TO ASK U.YOU BETTER DO YOUR HOME WORK AND BE READY.YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE A TOUGH TIME WITH ME - I WARN YOU.

Truth nobler than fiction

I still vividly remember that evening - the evening after the wedding.She was clad in a rich purple saree with heavy jerry,elegant jewellery,light makeup,long hair in a single pleat.She,even otherwise a beautiful girl, was sparkling in the bride's attire.I stood at the foot of the stairs to admire her coming down the stairs.We moved to the hall of the Hotel for the wedding reception.Someone was talking in a harsh voice very loudly.The tone sounded completely out of place in a festive mood.But the voice became more and more intense.All activities stood still for some time.I didn't quite understand what was happening.Then slowly realization dawned.The groom's father was highly agitated because the bride had reached the reception hall 4-5 minutes later than the time printed in the invitation!In fact ,none of the guests had reached.The reception was for a span of 3 hours and it was only 4 O'clock.What followed was the unravelling of an unbelievable drama played by a single character called the father-in law.At the end of the day when the bride's father stood helpless with not a drop of blood on his face, the bride was whisked away from the midst of all ,with the sharp words,"None of you need come to our house hereafter".That night ,her wedding night, marked the beginning of her night- like -life thereafter.

The agony of her father who had found a 'good catch'for his motherless child was beyond words.We all understood the magnitude of the blunder called that 'good catch'.Next few months news about her miserable life in her new home trickled down like words of molten sorrow.Everything that could be thought of was done to bring her back.BUT.... Why..?After 31 years that WHY is still an unanswered question in every one's mind.Why didn't she come back?No amount of physical and mental suffering could make her waver.She stayed on ,cut off all her contacts with the outside,never breathed a word seeking help or even pity.Who can judge if she was wise or not?Or can wisdom dictate the last words in matters where intuition and emotion play hide and seek with faculties of brain?She chose to stay on in a house where even her existence was at stake.Slowly ,one by one the nails of her living coffin-so we thought- fell off.Her mother-in-law,brother-in-law,father-in-law and finally two days back her -10years and more- bedridden husband died ,survived by her mentally challenged son ! The whole village had come in condolence.They speak of how dedicated she was in looking after each one of that family.She still stays on ...looking after her 30 year old son ,unmindful of the world with all it's magic and music passing her by...


* * * * * * * * * *

Did u know ,PR has filed a divorce notice .

Oh,really? But,why?

You see,she was frustrated .Her husband was getting a few thousands less than her and she felt that was leading to some complex or something.

Um mm....

And she was telling that her in-laws didn't wish her even for her first birthday after the wedding.Such a pity.

Um mm...

Strange are the ways of the world.

Another ' arrow from the bow'

' Whoever undertakes to set himself up as a judge of Truth and Knowledge is shipwrecked by the laughter of God.'



All alone,my 10 year old nephew has come to spend his summer holidays with us.For his parents and for me ,there is an agenda behind his visit.Of course ,it is not hidden from him either.He has to be polished 'mathematically',scrubbed 'spelligaly', stregthened 'tennisically'and whetted 'swimmigwise'.He came ready ,all set for the joke ,with a backpack of clothes and a carton of books.I too was ready long before his arrival ,all set for the most serious ,life or death challenge I have ever undertaken in my life.Loads of worksheets were downloaded from the net,printouts taken ,his room decorated with motivating quotes written on chart papers and with a big picture of his favourite car BMW,rescheduled my work commitments outside the house,stocked all processed and could-be-prosessed healthy food stuffs ......and spent sleepless nights planning.
On the first day I gave a long speech describing the things we were going to do together, how easy it was going to be for him in his next class if he studied everything in advance ,how people have reached heights,why people fail in their life .... ....But since his yawning was not very encouraging for me I had to reluctantly cut short the prepared speech.Still not a bad beginning.I showed him the +ve points chart specially designed for him.Any good or smart deed will be rewarded with a point in the chart.


Very magnanimously I allowed freedom on the first day.He could do anything , just relax and be ready for the real business which will start on the next day.He can watch TV or play a game with me or read a book or go down and make some new friends or........He asked me, "can I sleep?"



Wake up at the first call and a point will fall on the chart -was my goodnight parting words to him.He did wake up -at the 28th call but nevertheless, I gave him the point 'cos I know that a child can flourish only with +ve strokes and you shouldn't be stingy about it.And also a job well begun is half done.So I couldn't afford not to give the point.


A brief invocation of Ganapathy(which I didn't know but learned with great effort the day before )and our battle started.The first set of worksheets with 25 questions in maths were taken out,time set for one hour and starting shot fired.I left the room to avoid my unhealthy interference .Oh, so this is what they say ' the anxious moments outside the delivery room'.Time over.On entering the ' delivery room ' I couldn't see him anywhere there.He was in the toilet.Before he came out I gave an anxious glance at his work.The glance became a stare and the stare had become a glare when he opened the toilet door.There was one question number neatly written and beautifully and elaborately decorated on the answer sheet and that was all !

In the evening he was taken to a pizza selling restaurant. I wanted to give him the pleasure of ordering his choice. No limits,I said ,U can order what you want.I had decided that I will not impose my opinion or try to influence him in his choice.Children should be treated with the same respect that you give to a grownup,you know. I wanted to be a model in all these matters.And he ordered- One large pizza with chicken ,olive and cheese toppings, one veg and egg double burger , some garlic bread , one plate of finger chips and a large sprite.I too placed my order-A large glass of water with no ice.Our food came with a reasonably long delay.He began eating and I sat back and enjoyed the sight of him relishing the food.He started off with his favourite pizza. He had the last bite of one fifth of the large pizza and said with a very contented look and a beautiful smile, "I am F U L L".


As for tennis and swimming, it's going on without any hinderence.


Now 28 days have passed.He has only 12 more days with me.Meanwhile I was going on submitting the daily report of his progress through morning and evening phone calls to his parents who are far away.They don't seem to be quite happy.But I am very optimistic.We still have time to study fractions,decimals,profit andloss,conversions,lines,triangles,circles,perimeter,
area,volume and just a bit of algebra.After all ,we finished revision of addition and subtraction within these 28 days,didn't we?Yes ,it's true that he knew them very well since he had studied them 2 years back,but we revised them very well. And the positive point chart is not empty at all-he has scored two points.There is still time to get enough points to fill the rest 98 boxes.As I always advise his parents ,you have to be positive in your outlook,then only things will work out well,you see.

Jonathan

Recently I had an occasion to remember him.Do you know his story?Well, in case you don't,in a nutshell it is something like this-

Jonathan Livingston was practicing.He spent days alone,making hundreds of low-level glides,experimenting.He wanted to know what he can do in the air and what he can't,that's all.He just wanted to know.

"Why Jonathan,why is it so hard to be like the rest of the folk,Jon?Don't you forget
that the the reason you fly is to eat."

In the night he climbed two thousand feet above the black sea.He didn't have a thought of failure or death.He brought his fore wings tightly close into his body,left only the narrow swept daggers of his wing tips extended into the wind,and fell into a vertical dive,a grey cannon ball under the moon.A seagull at a hundred and fourteen miles per hour! It was a breakthrough , the greatest single moment in the history of the folk.

"Jonathan, seagulls never fly in the dark.
We declare you an outcast".
He became an outcast.
He had to leave the folk.

There were two of them when they came ,two who glowed as pure starlight,but gentle and friendly in the high night air.

"Jonathan",the words were strong and calm.
"We have come to take you higher,to take you to another home"
"I am ready",he said.
He gave a last look across the sky,across the magnificent silver sand where he had learned so much,and he promised,
"I would come back one day to help my flock learn".
Jonathan Livingston rose with the other two to disappear into a perfect dark sky,to go beyond,to his new home to learn.
When they reached a place which was beautiful beyond imagination,he asked,"Is this Heaven?"
"No,Jonathan,there is no such place as Heaven.Heaven is not a place,it is not a time.Heaven is being perfect.And it isn't flying a thousand miles per hour,or a million,or flying at the speed of light.Because any number is a limit and perfection has no limit."
"Now, tell Jonathan,are you ready for learning the most difficult,the most powerful,the most fun of all?Are you ready to fly up and know the meaning of Kindness and of Love?
"Yes"
In a moment they were air-borne,practicing.He learnt at a tremendous rate though it was difficult.
When sun rose he saw,there were thousands of them,standing,looking curiously.
"Jonathan,remember what you said a long time ago about loving the folk enough to return to it and help it learn?"
" Sure".
"We don't understand how you manage to love a mob that made you an outcast."
"Oh,you don't love hatred and evil, of course.You have to practise and see the real,
the good in every one of them and to help to see it in themselves.It is fun,when you
get the knack of it."
They all looked at him quizzically.Suddenly he saw them all as they really were and he more than liked, he loved what he saw.

Their race to learn began.

My mother was with me for the last two months.Her last stay for this long a period was when I delivered my daughter,28 years back.
She is 82,fragile and vulnerable to infections.She has some idea about her condition but still has gone back to her own domain,to stay alone,independently,without troubling anyone 'unnecessarily' and without being troubled also.We respect her decision ,mostly 'cos we are not left with a choice.
But...while she was leaving I read something unfamiliar in her whole being.A shadow of fear,a craving for reassurance,and a plea... for something.That was totally strange for me and anyone who knows her.I gave her my word,'there is nothing to worry at least for the next 3 years;you are as healthy as you were before your illness'.She seemed to trust me and I could feel her relaxing.Her faith in my words chocked me, because I was cheating her.The truth is I don't know the answer for her unasked question,nobody knows.They say,you have to think positively...speak positively...I wonder,sometimes does it amount to cheating?

After the carnival

One month passed away in a jiff. My two and a half year old grand daughter had come from the other side of the globe. There had always been a lot to learn from her,that is, ever after she was born.
First thing that struck me - too many things to be called coincidences-eyes two and not one, mouth under the nose with lots of accessories inside ,nose only one, not two like eyes.......and all in the most usable places! When so much could be seen,what all unseen things could be inside that two feet mass! Lesson 1-God laughs at our 'meticulous' plannings and schemings and says,'take this gift of life and enjoy it, that is all what matters.'
Her fist visit after one year-she was left with her grandparents for two months. Solely for us! In a very matter of fact way, she asked once or twice , 'where is amma?' A very matter of fact answer seemed to be accepted without any reservations!She happily carried on with her life in the changed conditions -different routine, very different climate, environment, people, language...every thing. No brooding ,no rejction of love from a different source. She thoroughly enjoyed her short stay without her mom and dad! Lesson 2-Take life as it comes, live in moments, and don't pine for what is not.
This was her second visit. We two always woke up early, before everybody else in the house. We steal to the small balcony and take our positions-she on her stool and I beside her to see the carnival! On the big rain tree just outside, almost touchable, two squirrels, wagging their tails in happy flutters, jump from branch to branch; they are soon joined by another one, a little smaller than the other two. Then the three of them start their game of hide and seek. Two crows, a parrot and a myhna zooms in to join their game, but is not quite accepted. So they start their symphony which is soon disrupted by three crows. Meanwhile ,a cock and four hens come out of the half hidden hut and announce their presence. Paper boy flies in and out of the gate, closely followed by the milk man. The carnival goes on .. till the others wake up and the signal for the race of the day is heard. Lesson 3-Rediscover the world through the eyes of a child.
I learned much more than all these. In fact, every waking moment I was refined in her presence, I moved a little more closer to God.