A story that captivates me time and again is the Gift of the Magi by O.Henry. Jim and Della sacrifice their best possessions to gift each other. Jim sells his watch to buy Della a pair of ivory hair clips and Della sells her hair to buy Jim a platinum chain for his watch. Both can’t use their gifts but the story speaks volumes about the love they had for each other .
With Christmas round the corner and people buying gifts for each other a small anecdote narrated by a friend of mine set me thinking. She had purchased gifts for some close friends of hers whom she was meeting after a long time. Very enthusiastically she gifted them to her friends when she met them. But she was in for a shock. Her friend 'rejected' the gift saying that she wouldn’t use the gift. Slightly disappointed at having made the wrong choice, she showed her few other gifts she had picked for some other people. But those too were rejected as they were not to 'the taste' of the recipient. This friend of mine left the house dejected that her friend wasn’t able to appreciate the trouble taken by her to choose a gift for her.
In as much as gifting is an art, so is receiving a gift and I think a dying one. People seem to have forgotten the art of receiving gifts. In our aim to maintain our individuality and keep our personal space, we do at times end up being highly self centred and narrow minded. We over look the emotions of the person who has bought the gift for us. We deride their ability to choose things for us.
To avoid duplication of articles got at weddings or birthday parties, the trend to reduce accepting gifts at almost all occasions seems to be on the rise. Gifts at weddings and birthdays may be more of a social compulsion (resulting in return gifts too), but equating them with personal gifts is almost trivialising the sentiments involved.
A gift is a token of love and affection. And it doesn’t hurt to keep the other person happy by saying a thank you...if not for the gift itself, but for the thought that has gone into it, for the time they have spent on choosing it and for the fact that there is someone in this world who cares to care about you.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
the show stopper
I recently attended a book launch held at the Trident.The book is authored by two professors eminent in their own fields. The launch was presided by Kabir Bedi.
What took the cake and the icing was compering at the program.THE COMPERE WAS TRULY A SHOW STOPPER.
He stopped the show.
He punctuated it with his appalling English and even more appalling attitude. Fanatic about fantastic, he used the word at least twenty times in ten minutes. I almost began to look for a thesaurus online to see if I could give him synonyms for that word. The program was fantastic even before it began, it was fantastic as it went ahead and of course it ended fantastically.
As he welcomed Kabir Bedi he announced, I welcome Mr.Kabir Bedi, a man, a voice. Well well, upon his proclamation do we all know now that KB is indeed a man and that too with a voice!
And then he went to call the author.He was looking for the author straight ahead while the author entered the stage from the side aisles. The host of the fantastic program launching the fantastic book had no clue who the fantastic author was!
And of course,the author was published on leading ladies(sic!) of the country! I coudnt help wonder what the wife of the author would have to say to that !
Every individual he introduced donned several caps and each cap had several feathers. Each one was fantastic individual. Each one had done things that ran into pages (which I am sure he hadn’t had time to go through!) and each one was an amazing human being! Yes, I was in the esteemed company of clones.
And as the day went ahead smattered with bad grammar and attitude, I left the hall wondering how such mediocrity in public life gets accepted ( and paid!).
What took the cake and the icing was compering at the program.THE COMPERE WAS TRULY A SHOW STOPPER.
He stopped the show.
He punctuated it with his appalling English and even more appalling attitude. Fanatic about fantastic, he used the word at least twenty times in ten minutes. I almost began to look for a thesaurus online to see if I could give him synonyms for that word. The program was fantastic even before it began, it was fantastic as it went ahead and of course it ended fantastically.
As he welcomed Kabir Bedi he announced, I welcome Mr.Kabir Bedi, a man, a voice. Well well, upon his proclamation do we all know now that KB is indeed a man and that too with a voice!
And then he went to call the author.He was looking for the author straight ahead while the author entered the stage from the side aisles. The host of the fantastic program launching the fantastic book had no clue who the fantastic author was!
And of course,the author was published on leading ladies(sic!) of the country! I coudnt help wonder what the wife of the author would have to say to that !
Every individual he introduced donned several caps and each cap had several feathers. Each one was fantastic individual. Each one had done things that ran into pages (which I am sure he hadn’t had time to go through!) and each one was an amazing human being! Yes, I was in the esteemed company of clones.
And as the day went ahead smattered with bad grammar and attitude, I left the hall wondering how such mediocrity in public life gets accepted ( and paid!).
Friday, November 4, 2011
The Pied Piper
What is it about college campuses that makes one believe that life is never a struggle but only an array of opportunities? What is it about the romance of friendship that makes us believe that friends are forever and ever and ever? What is it about the magical age of youth that one feels time is endless and happiness always permanent?
These thoughts and more stroked my heart after a rendezvous’ with a couple of old college mates two days ago. Life had taken us away and each one had drifted in his or her own path .As we gossiped, image after image crumbled. The reality today was no longer fresh as rose. The dew drops had dissipated and what was left was a barren desert.
And my thoughts gently floated back over to the campus. I could see the young boys and girls laughing, playing, running, screaming, crying, consoling, fighting and making up and fighting again. The hostels stood mute testimony to our vows and promises.
The wonderful bonds of friendships that developed mainly due to a 24/7 proximity and were generated by default were our lifelines. Friendships that grew because we shared a room or friendships that grew because we had common friends or friendships that grew because we shared the same passions or hobbies. Like the Pied Piper, the Campus led all of together on a journey that we shared and finally flung us all out of its gate only to be drowned by Time.
Today we didn’t know where these friends were. Though some of them were on Facebook or Orkut, the bonds were no longer there. Some of them didn’t want to be contacted. Some of them were not traceable. But what pinched the most was the closest of friends didn’t know each other was.
As the conversation moved ahead I clung on to my memories not wanting any more to disappear. I rummaged through old photographs just to ensure that my world rebuilt itself in my mind and was just as I had left it.
Kagaz ke kuch tukdon mein yaadein hain humaari
Unhe kaagaz mein hi rehne do
Jo duniya chod aaye hum woh aaj nahin hain humaari
Unhe palkon mein hi rehne do
These thoughts and more stroked my heart after a rendezvous’ with a couple of old college mates two days ago. Life had taken us away and each one had drifted in his or her own path .As we gossiped, image after image crumbled. The reality today was no longer fresh as rose. The dew drops had dissipated and what was left was a barren desert.
And my thoughts gently floated back over to the campus. I could see the young boys and girls laughing, playing, running, screaming, crying, consoling, fighting and making up and fighting again. The hostels stood mute testimony to our vows and promises.
The wonderful bonds of friendships that developed mainly due to a 24/7 proximity and were generated by default were our lifelines. Friendships that grew because we shared a room or friendships that grew because we had common friends or friendships that grew because we shared the same passions or hobbies. Like the Pied Piper, the Campus led all of together on a journey that we shared and finally flung us all out of its gate only to be drowned by Time.
Today we didn’t know where these friends were. Though some of them were on Facebook or Orkut, the bonds were no longer there. Some of them didn’t want to be contacted. Some of them were not traceable. But what pinched the most was the closest of friends didn’t know each other was.
As the conversation moved ahead I clung on to my memories not wanting any more to disappear. I rummaged through old photographs just to ensure that my world rebuilt itself in my mind and was just as I had left it.
Kagaz ke kuch tukdon mein yaadein hain humaari
Unhe kaagaz mein hi rehne do
Jo duniya chod aaye hum woh aaj nahin hain humaari
Unhe palkon mein hi rehne do
Monday, September 5, 2011
keep smiling in life: my first online article
keep smiling in life: my first online article
http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=2401
http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/?p=2401
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Who is she?
Over the last one year we have spent almost every evening together. Virtual space has allowed us that . As I travel in the auto (the one that I finally get after twenty auto wallahs decide that Kalina is plagued) , we chat.
Thanks to technology we are connected. Snug in the comfort of her home, she and braving the potholed roads of Mumbai , me chat away to glory.
Recipes travel cyberspace into each other’s kitchens.
Congrats and consolations meander into our lives.
Oh! Your son finished his course? Congrats
Why, my daughter danced well yesterday...Really, congrats!!!
You know what; my exams didn’t bring this type of tensio
True...these exams are just killing .When will these kids just finish these?
Small talk that relieves the worries of the day.
Comfort that there is someone out there sharing the same set of problems.
Happiness that there is someone rejoicing on the very small things that I enjoy.
A half an hour ride back home now doesn’t seem so long.
She leaves me at the door step all charged to face the rest of the day
With an unsaid promise to return the next afternoon , just as I trudge out of my office........
She is my home coming friend
Thanks to technology we are connected. Snug in the comfort of her home, she and braving the potholed roads of Mumbai , me chat away to glory.
Recipes travel cyberspace into each other’s kitchens.
Congrats and consolations meander into our lives.
Oh! Your son finished his course? Congrats
Why, my daughter danced well yesterday...Really, congrats!!!
You know what; my exams didn’t bring this type of tensio
True...these exams are just killing .When will these kids just finish these?
Small talk that relieves the worries of the day.
Comfort that there is someone out there sharing the same set of problems.
Happiness that there is someone rejoicing on the very small things that I enjoy.
A half an hour ride back home now doesn’t seem so long.
She leaves me at the door step all charged to face the rest of the day
With an unsaid promise to return the next afternoon , just as I trudge out of my office........
She is my home coming friend
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
My reservations about Aarakshan
The break up of Aarakshan:
5% Prateik
10% Saif Ali Khan
10% Deepika Padukone
15% Manoj Bajpayee
15% Amitabh Bachchan
25% confused Prakash Jha
15% even more confused script
5% all the other confused guys
100% disappointment
5% Prateik
10% Saif Ali Khan
10% Deepika Padukone
15% Manoj Bajpayee
15% Amitabh Bachchan
25% confused Prakash Jha
15% even more confused script
5% all the other confused guys
100% disappointment
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
'Out of the box' happy
Adam left behind three of his kind:
The mendicants
The pleasure seekers
The 'out of the box' happy lot
And believe me: All of them are happy in their own way.
Of these three groups, the first two are within the box thinkers though they would love to believe otherwise. There is nothing new in renouncing the world to seek happiness. We have very prominent examples. Ashoka, Buddha, Mahavira, Jesus Christ, Guru Nanak and the very many out of the box thinkers and spiritual gurus who spawned religions and cultures through their way of life. Doing something like that is no longer out of the box. People have been there; done that.
History is full of pleasure seekers. The Pharaohs of Egypt to Bill Clinton: all people who have been there; done that.
What fascinates me is the last group: The ‘out of the box happy’ lot. And why do I call them that ?
Because they are so much ‘out of the box’ that they are so full of themselves. They can’t see beyond their own personal tragedies and sorrows. Not just that they refuse to make any attempt at trying to come out of it, they resist any attempt at anyone trying to help them out. They revel in their sorrow.
With due respect to human pain and tragedy, every human undergoes some pain or tragedy in his/her life. The curse that befell Adam is on all of us. Adam, however,learnt to fight and create his own world.
But these ‘out of the box happy’ people are a stickler for sympathy. They want the world to sympathise with them. They believe that their husbands,their wives, their children, their teachers, their officers, their staff or anyone they interact with is out to harm them and hurt them. The world is an uncaring place where God has let loose the worst serpents on them.
Reach out with a sympathising hand and they will demand your shoulder to cry on. Crying is the best way of purgation. But they will cry and cry till not just your shoulder but your soul would be drenched.
Give a solution to their problem and you will be accused of being a part of God’s uncaring creation.
Make them laugh and you will be accused of being a clown and juggling their feelings.
Show them a practical way to tackle life and you will be accused of being pragmatic.
Time and again you will be reminded how you are a cold hearted, matter-of –fact ,hard headed, worthless friend who cannot be depended on to squeeze out that one ounce of sympathy that they deserve.
Give me Ashoka and Clinton any day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The mendicants
The pleasure seekers
The 'out of the box' happy lot
And believe me: All of them are happy in their own way.
Of these three groups, the first two are within the box thinkers though they would love to believe otherwise. There is nothing new in renouncing the world to seek happiness. We have very prominent examples. Ashoka, Buddha, Mahavira, Jesus Christ, Guru Nanak and the very many out of the box thinkers and spiritual gurus who spawned religions and cultures through their way of life. Doing something like that is no longer out of the box. People have been there; done that.
History is full of pleasure seekers. The Pharaohs of Egypt to Bill Clinton: all people who have been there; done that.
What fascinates me is the last group: The ‘out of the box happy’ lot. And why do I call them that ?
Because they are so much ‘out of the box’ that they are so full of themselves. They can’t see beyond their own personal tragedies and sorrows. Not just that they refuse to make any attempt at trying to come out of it, they resist any attempt at anyone trying to help them out. They revel in their sorrow.
With due respect to human pain and tragedy, every human undergoes some pain or tragedy in his/her life. The curse that befell Adam is on all of us. Adam, however,learnt to fight and create his own world.
But these ‘out of the box happy’ people are a stickler for sympathy. They want the world to sympathise with them. They believe that their husbands,their wives, their children, their teachers, their officers, their staff or anyone they interact with is out to harm them and hurt them. The world is an uncaring place where God has let loose the worst serpents on them.
Reach out with a sympathising hand and they will demand your shoulder to cry on. Crying is the best way of purgation. But they will cry and cry till not just your shoulder but your soul would be drenched.
Give a solution to their problem and you will be accused of being a part of God’s uncaring creation.
Make them laugh and you will be accused of being a clown and juggling their feelings.
Show them a practical way to tackle life and you will be accused of being pragmatic.
Time and again you will be reminded how you are a cold hearted, matter-of –fact ,hard headed, worthless friend who cannot be depended on to squeeze out that one ounce of sympathy that they deserve.
Give me Ashoka and Clinton any day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Palace of Illusions
THE PALACE OF ILLUSIONS BY CHITRA BANERJEE DIVAKARUNI; PUBLISHED BY PICADOR PAGES-360; PRICE-RS--495/-
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni is an award-winning author and poet. She has been published in over 50 magazines, including The Atlantic Monthly and The New Yorker, and her writing has been included in over 50 anthologies. Her books have been translated into 16 languages, including Dutch, Hebrew, Russian and Japanese.
The folktale of Mahabharata has a number of versions all over India. All versions are often depicted from the point of view of any of the male protagonist. The women in the Mahabharata are denigrated to the background. No version ever talks about the pain of Gandhari who spent a lifetime blindfolded or the travails of Kunti who had progeny from six celestial beings. This is where the Palace of Illusions stands out. The tale comes from the point of view of Draupadi.
The young Draupadi,(she hated the name as it identified her only as the daughter of her father and nothing else) dark skinned and born out a yagna, spends her childhood trying to decipher how her life would be charted out. Also called Krishnaa she feels an unknown affinity to Lord Krishna, the reason for which she is never able to decipher. She ponders how the prophecy of her having the strength to change the course of the future would come true.
As she grows into a young adult and gets ready for her Swayamwar (choosing her husband), she oscillates in her heart over having to choose someone who would win a contest. This irked her as she felt it denied her the right to choose her own life partner and the Swayamwar lost its meaning.
The book runs like a brook through her childhood, her relation with her brother, her growing fascination for Karna, whom she cannot marry, her willful decision to accompany her husbands to the forest to ensure that she keeps them in control, her anger at them getting married to other women, her preference for Arjuna over Bheema who loved her very passionately, her friendship with Krishna are all well illustrated in the book.
Draupadi had to pay a huge price for being married to five men. She was given the boon of being a virgin every time she moved in with the next husband. This she felt was very male chauvinistic. “I would prefer that I do not carry their memories”, she says. But as usual she didn’t have a choice in the boon. It was thrust upon her.
Her strained relationship with Kunti also brings to the forefront how again she did not enjoy any motherly affection from Kunti. The only person she related to as mother was her Dhai Ma, the old lady who looked after her when she was young. This lack of motherly affection somewhere translated into a lack of affection from her side to her children. She never lived with her children. She bore five of them, one from each husband but always maintained a distance from them. She could never bring herself to act or react as a ‘mother’. Her sons too accepted the distance she maintained.
She lived a strange life, an unasked for daughter, a wife to five men, a mother to sons who didn’t know her, a woman so mysterious that she questioned her own identity.
This is what the author brings out in the book. Though the read slackens at times,it does bring out many pertinent issues related to the representation of the women in Indian mythology, especially the Mahabharata.
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni is an award-winning author and poet. She has been published in over 50 magazines, including The Atlantic Monthly and The New Yorker, and her writing has been included in over 50 anthologies. Her books have been translated into 16 languages, including Dutch, Hebrew, Russian and Japanese.
The folktale of Mahabharata has a number of versions all over India. All versions are often depicted from the point of view of any of the male protagonist. The women in the Mahabharata are denigrated to the background. No version ever talks about the pain of Gandhari who spent a lifetime blindfolded or the travails of Kunti who had progeny from six celestial beings. This is where the Palace of Illusions stands out. The tale comes from the point of view of Draupadi.
The young Draupadi,(she hated the name as it identified her only as the daughter of her father and nothing else) dark skinned and born out a yagna, spends her childhood trying to decipher how her life would be charted out. Also called Krishnaa she feels an unknown affinity to Lord Krishna, the reason for which she is never able to decipher. She ponders how the prophecy of her having the strength to change the course of the future would come true.
As she grows into a young adult and gets ready for her Swayamwar (choosing her husband), she oscillates in her heart over having to choose someone who would win a contest. This irked her as she felt it denied her the right to choose her own life partner and the Swayamwar lost its meaning.
The book runs like a brook through her childhood, her relation with her brother, her growing fascination for Karna, whom she cannot marry, her willful decision to accompany her husbands to the forest to ensure that she keeps them in control, her anger at them getting married to other women, her preference for Arjuna over Bheema who loved her very passionately, her friendship with Krishna are all well illustrated in the book.
Draupadi had to pay a huge price for being married to five men. She was given the boon of being a virgin every time she moved in with the next husband. This she felt was very male chauvinistic. “I would prefer that I do not carry their memories”, she says. But as usual she didn’t have a choice in the boon. It was thrust upon her.
Her strained relationship with Kunti also brings to the forefront how again she did not enjoy any motherly affection from Kunti. The only person she related to as mother was her Dhai Ma, the old lady who looked after her when she was young. This lack of motherly affection somewhere translated into a lack of affection from her side to her children. She never lived with her children. She bore five of them, one from each husband but always maintained a distance from them. She could never bring herself to act or react as a ‘mother’. Her sons too accepted the distance she maintained.
She lived a strange life, an unasked for daughter, a wife to five men, a mother to sons who didn’t know her, a woman so mysterious that she questioned her own identity.
This is what the author brings out in the book. Though the read slackens at times,it does bring out many pertinent issues related to the representation of the women in Indian mythology, especially the Mahabharata.
A Certain Ambiguity
A Certain Ambiguity =A mathematical novel by [Gaurav Suri + Hartosh Singh Bal] ; Publisher Penguin / Viking;Pages 281 ; Price Rs.450/-
******************************
“Teaching mathematics, like teaching any other art requires the ability to inspire the student. Inspiration requires marketing and marketing requires stirring communication.” These lines from the novel ‘A Certain Ambiguity- a mathematical novel’ stayed in my mind long after I had finished the novel. As an individual who grew up fearing and dreading the subject, the statement renewed memories of the dull and boring mathematics lessons that I used to have in schools. But the fascinating aspects presented in this feast had me “asking for more” like Oliver Twist. By the end of the novel I could almost sense regret within myself for not having been able to see the beauty of this wondrous subject!
The novel not only brings out the fascinating aspects of mathematics but also relates the concepts of mathematics to the concepts of God, religion and faith. The journey of a young boy from his initiation into the fascinating world of numbers at the age of 12 till he decides to study mathematics with unbridled passion is the tree of this novel. Around it is wound like a creeper the story of the boy’s mathematician grandfather-how he was imprisoned for blasphemy, how he proved to the skeptical New Jersey judge that mathematics and religion are both based on faith and neither one is a true science, how he helped the judge and through his story the boy to learn the historical development of mathematics as a branch of science.
The issues that troubled mathematicians of yore still rankle mathematicians of today and the search to find the ultimate truth is on, just like the truth about God is still a never –ending mystery. The novel cleverly weaves history, religion, mythology and mathematics into a magical tapestry.
******************************
“Teaching mathematics, like teaching any other art requires the ability to inspire the student. Inspiration requires marketing and marketing requires stirring communication.” These lines from the novel ‘A Certain Ambiguity- a mathematical novel’ stayed in my mind long after I had finished the novel. As an individual who grew up fearing and dreading the subject, the statement renewed memories of the dull and boring mathematics lessons that I used to have in schools. But the fascinating aspects presented in this feast had me “asking for more” like Oliver Twist. By the end of the novel I could almost sense regret within myself for not having been able to see the beauty of this wondrous subject!
The novel not only brings out the fascinating aspects of mathematics but also relates the concepts of mathematics to the concepts of God, religion and faith. The journey of a young boy from his initiation into the fascinating world of numbers at the age of 12 till he decides to study mathematics with unbridled passion is the tree of this novel. Around it is wound like a creeper the story of the boy’s mathematician grandfather-how he was imprisoned for blasphemy, how he proved to the skeptical New Jersey judge that mathematics and religion are both based on faith and neither one is a true science, how he helped the judge and through his story the boy to learn the historical development of mathematics as a branch of science.
The issues that troubled mathematicians of yore still rankle mathematicians of today and the search to find the ultimate truth is on, just like the truth about God is still a never –ending mystery. The novel cleverly weaves history, religion, mythology and mathematics into a magical tapestry.
The monsoon mismatch
Come rains and Mumbai is divided into two groups: the Mumbaikars and the Mumbaicars.
You are a Mumbaicar if
• You own a Chevrolet, a Benz,a Merc ,a Toyota,a Honda or any other mean machine
• You are seated comfortably in the confines of your AC car
• You are connected to the world through your laptop and mobile
• You are already running the show at your office
• You drive right through the puddle of water by the side of the road so that the fellow on the footpath is blessed by a shower not from heaven but from below.
• You drive right through the water collected on the roads very near an auto at full speed so that both driver and the passenger are drenched to the core.
• You care less about the people on the road
• You care more about your car.
And you are a Mumbaikar if you are trying to stay dry on a wet rainy day .........
You are a Mumbaicar if
• You own a Chevrolet, a Benz,a Merc ,a Toyota,a Honda or any other mean machine
• You are seated comfortably in the confines of your AC car
• You are connected to the world through your laptop and mobile
• You are already running the show at your office
• You drive right through the puddle of water by the side of the road so that the fellow on the footpath is blessed by a shower not from heaven but from below.
• You drive right through the water collected on the roads very near an auto at full speed so that both driver and the passenger are drenched to the core.
• You care less about the people on the road
• You care more about your car.
And you are a Mumbaikar if you are trying to stay dry on a wet rainy day .........
Monday, June 20, 2011
Ready for a check list
A brawny hero CHECK
An item song CHECK
A runaway bride CHECK
A secret CHECK
AN impersonation CHECK
A happy joint family falling into the swimming pool CHECK
Villainous uncles and cousins CHECK
A damsel in distress CHECK
A knight in the shining armour CHECK
A love song CHECK
Songs at the most unexpected situations CHECK
Some close friends in guest appearances CHECK
A shirtless scene CHECK
Reformed uncles and cousins CHECK
Lessons in manners CHECK
Cheesy one liners CHECK
Crude situational humour CHECK
A happy ending CHECK
READY!!!!!!!!!!
That’s Salman Khans’ READY for you.........
An item song CHECK
A runaway bride CHECK
A secret CHECK
AN impersonation CHECK
A happy joint family falling into the swimming pool CHECK
Villainous uncles and cousins CHECK
A damsel in distress CHECK
A knight in the shining armour CHECK
A love song CHECK
Songs at the most unexpected situations CHECK
Some close friends in guest appearances CHECK
A shirtless scene CHECK
Reformed uncles and cousins CHECK
Lessons in manners CHECK
Cheesy one liners CHECK
Crude situational humour CHECK
A happy ending CHECK
READY!!!!!!!!!!
That’s Salman Khans’ READY for you.........
Friday, June 3, 2011
Fathers and daughters
ME: I need an appointment with the eye doctor. I cannot see well at night.
MY FATHER: What nonsense? At such an early age?
ME: Dad! Am touching 40.
MY FATHER: Oh! Yes, you are!
A FRIEND WE MET AFTER MANY YEARS: How old are your kids?
MY HUSBAND: My daughter is nine
ME (nudge…..nudge): She is thirteen.
MY HUSBAND: Oh! Yes, she is!
Daughters never grow up,do they?
MY FATHER: What nonsense? At such an early age?
ME: Dad! Am touching 40.
MY FATHER: Oh! Yes, you are!
A FRIEND WE MET AFTER MANY YEARS: How old are your kids?
MY HUSBAND: My daughter is nine
ME (nudge…..nudge): She is thirteen.
MY HUSBAND: Oh! Yes, she is!
Daughters never grow up,do they?
Monday, May 23, 2011
The unsung song of an unwanted unborn………..
I am cocooned comfortably
Eagerly quietly waiting
Preparing to meet the challenges of life
I know I will be cared for and am wanted
What is that I hear? A voice says
“We don’t want that …..”
No, surely they are not talking about me
Or are they
I am not sure
I snuggle again letting my little
Heart learn to grow so that one day
It will beat for the one who carries me
But again I hear a shout…….
No !I never wanted this.
I am getting rid of this
Some wants to get rid of me!!!
Yes they are talking about me
"I cannot afford one now"
I hear a strong voice say
"I need to buy that car I saved up for
So this has to go"
So I have to go
This is it
Me replaced by a chunk
Of junk
No!don’t do this to me
I will grow one day to love you
Iron will rot
I will grow one day to cherish you
Iron will not
I will grow one day to be the pride of your life
I promise, Let me live
Let me see the beautiful world,
Let me be a part of your life
Do not set me apart!!!!
Eagerly quietly waiting
Preparing to meet the challenges of life
I know I will be cared for and am wanted
What is that I hear? A voice says
“We don’t want that …..”
No, surely they are not talking about me
Or are they
I am not sure
I snuggle again letting my little
Heart learn to grow so that one day
It will beat for the one who carries me
But again I hear a shout…….
No !I never wanted this.
I am getting rid of this
Some wants to get rid of me!!!
Yes they are talking about me
"I cannot afford one now"
I hear a strong voice say
"I need to buy that car I saved up for
So this has to go"
So I have to go
This is it
Me replaced by a chunk
Of junk
No!don’t do this to me
I will grow one day to love you
Iron will rot
I will grow one day to cherish you
Iron will not
I will grow one day to be the pride of your life
I promise, Let me live
Let me see the beautiful world,
Let me be a part of your life
Do not set me apart!!!!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
MEE SINDHUTAI SAPKAL..
Two days after I watched EAT PRAY LOVE I came across this DVD.This is a Marathi movie about a gusty lady Sindhutai Sapkal who lives life at her own terms.
She too eats,prays,and loves and in an amazingly different way.
Elizabeth of EPL has imaginary issues with her life and tries to recover from them.
Sindhutai has a difficult childhood and a tormented youth.
Elizabeth walks out on her husband.
Sindhu is thrown out of her house.
She is accused of bearing another man's child in her womb.
None of her problems are self created.They are presented to her by society but she never loses her will to survive.
Elizabeth prays to find solace for herself.
Sindhu prays for the world.
Sindhu goes to the temple and changes her name from Chindi (meaning a tattered rag) to Sindhu;the name of the mighty river.This is highly symbolic as now she magnifies her existence from a mere rag to a mighty life giving force.
Her prayers are for inner strength that will reach out not just to her but to a multitude of people.
Elizabeth loves selfishly for herself
Sindhu loves selflessly and loves everyone.
Sindhu becomes MAI to all including her husband who turns to her when he has nowhere to go.
Elizabeth has all the money backing her.
Sindhu has nothing with her .............
but the clothes she is wearing and a day old child when she leaves home.Thrown out by her own family, she is helped by people who don't know her.They take no money to assist her.She rebuilds her world helping and aiding poor hungry kids.
Elizabeth struggles to discover what she wants.
She is stingy and keeps to herself.She can't think beyond herself.
Sindhu helps others discover what they want.
Sindhu opens her heart out to the universe and it reciprocates multifold.Sindhu stops thinking about herself.She thinks about the children she is rearing.
Elizabeth is left all alone.
Sindhu has the world with her.
This link gives an interview with the lady herself.
http://cms.boloji.com/index.cfm?md=Content&sd=Articles&ArticleID=6497
She too eats,prays,and loves and in an amazingly different way.
Elizabeth of EPL has imaginary issues with her life and tries to recover from them.
Sindhutai has a difficult childhood and a tormented youth.
Elizabeth walks out on her husband.
Sindhu is thrown out of her house.
She is accused of bearing another man's child in her womb.
None of her problems are self created.They are presented to her by society but she never loses her will to survive.
Elizabeth prays to find solace for herself.
Sindhu prays for the world.
Sindhu goes to the temple and changes her name from Chindi (meaning a tattered rag) to Sindhu;the name of the mighty river.This is highly symbolic as now she magnifies her existence from a mere rag to a mighty life giving force.
Her prayers are for inner strength that will reach out not just to her but to a multitude of people.
Elizabeth loves selfishly for herself
Sindhu loves selflessly and loves everyone.
Sindhu becomes MAI to all including her husband who turns to her when he has nowhere to go.
Elizabeth has all the money backing her.
Sindhu has nothing with her .............
but the clothes she is wearing and a day old child when she leaves home.Thrown out by her own family, she is helped by people who don't know her.They take no money to assist her.She rebuilds her world helping and aiding poor hungry kids.
Elizabeth struggles to discover what she wants.
She is stingy and keeps to herself.She can't think beyond herself.
Sindhu helps others discover what they want.
Sindhu opens her heart out to the universe and it reciprocates multifold.Sindhu stops thinking about herself.She thinks about the children she is rearing.
Elizabeth is left all alone.
Sindhu has the world with her.
This link gives an interview with the lady herself.
http://cms.boloji.com/index.cfm?md=Content&sd=Articles&ArticleID=6497
Sunday, April 3, 2011
The Tangent in my Circle of Life
What chance do I stand of not being engulfed by the madness around me?
Nothing at all.In a nation of cricketing fans and fanatics, singular voices of dissent like mine are silenced and thrown out in disgust.One gets treated like a pariah.....so if you can't beat 'em join 'em... thought I.
My family was berserk that India had entered the finals of the World Cup.India was bleeding blue.The euphoria was enthusisatic and for the first time in my life I agreed to witness a full cricket match.
My association with cricket has been minimal.Content with hearing the final scores or just about knowing who defeated whom this game had not entered the circle of my life.But now it was threatening my existence.If I needed to survive in my own house I better know the game.If I needed to sustain office gossip , then I needed to know the game more than what Kalpana or Radhika were doing in their lives. No one discussed anything but cricket.I could not have any conversation with anyone if I didnt know what happened in the ground the previous evening.
So all armed to meet up to this latest challenge in my life and keep myself in sync with this crazy cricket world I decided to go and witness an entire cricket match.
Of course I would have loved an outing with the entire family,roaming the seasides,building sand castles,the bhelpuri on the beach and some leisurely dinner after all this.But then I would have been the only one doing that ...
I found myself on the 2nd of April 2011 in a theatre( Wankhede tickets were out of the question..so the next best was a huge screen)all set to watch the match.I too dressed in blue and even wore sports shoes to feel like a sportperson!!!!!
Well the match began . Three maidens and the audience was going wild..... as long as the Lankans were not scoring it was good for me.The pace was steady.The afternoon was heavy .It was siesta time.My eyelids drooped and I had a nice snooze in the cozy ac theatre all fragrant with popcorn and samosas.
'how can you sleep....Why did I miss something?' Maleha was still playing and the other guy( can't remember the name) he too was there before I had drifted into dreamland.
All seemed quite and still.So I quite didn't think I missed anything...
And for the rest of the day I lost my husband to the guy sitting next to him.They conversed animatedly..laughed over the fact that Maleha would be Sreesanth's captain in the next IPL and passionately discussed every ball thrown.
Finally it was half time.
God above would I survive the next half?????
India started batting.Sachin and Sehwag on the field.What more did India want?I dont know But I would have loved a nice blanket and some hot tea.
The audience was in a frenzy when the first ball left the bowler's hand.Six,six,six........and....................oh ok..no run...
Loud cries of "Its ok Sehwag...take it easy...." Of course Sehwag heard them.He just needed advice from these guys,right ...I thought .Once again there was a frenzied rush and people began to scream six,six siiiiiiixxxxxx and then ........OUT.The hall fell silent .Sehwag went back on a ZERO.The hall was quiet.I could hear a two hundred and ninety nine hearts beat in tandem and then I felt mine too go the same way...the audience was mourning.Was my heart too? I wondered? Then again Sachin went out for an 18.They all cried.With God out would the mortals be able to do anything?
Every time there was a ,four people began dancing
Every time Gambhir gimmicked people nearly had heart attacks.Why Why does he do this?Young blood that he is...Gambhir play slow...they screamed....
I was hungry, stiff and tired..
I looked around and found no supporters.No one cared for food ,water or anything else...The enthusiasm was of course infectious .When the young guns turned the match around I too had started rooting for them.I clapped loudly when Dhoni rocked.. and then when the final six exploded on screen the hall was a volcano.
What was simmering till then erupted now....
People were all over the streets.The Indian flag flew high.
The skies exploded in a multitude of colours.Impromptu rallies were the order of the night.With a long weekend in Mumbai,the party had just begun
And as for me,the madness is still beyond comprehesnion.Cricket still is a tangent in my circle of life.I am content with knowing that India has won.
Nothing at all.In a nation of cricketing fans and fanatics, singular voices of dissent like mine are silenced and thrown out in disgust.One gets treated like a pariah.....so if you can't beat 'em join 'em... thought I.
My family was berserk that India had entered the finals of the World Cup.India was bleeding blue.The euphoria was enthusisatic and for the first time in my life I agreed to witness a full cricket match.
My association with cricket has been minimal.Content with hearing the final scores or just about knowing who defeated whom this game had not entered the circle of my life.But now it was threatening my existence.If I needed to survive in my own house I better know the game.If I needed to sustain office gossip , then I needed to know the game more than what Kalpana or Radhika were doing in their lives. No one discussed anything but cricket.I could not have any conversation with anyone if I didnt know what happened in the ground the previous evening.
So all armed to meet up to this latest challenge in my life and keep myself in sync with this crazy cricket world I decided to go and witness an entire cricket match.
Of course I would have loved an outing with the entire family,roaming the seasides,building sand castles,the bhelpuri on the beach and some leisurely dinner after all this.But then I would have been the only one doing that ...
I found myself on the 2nd of April 2011 in a theatre( Wankhede tickets were out of the question..so the next best was a huge screen)all set to watch the match.I too dressed in blue and even wore sports shoes to feel like a sportperson!!!!!
Well the match began . Three maidens and the audience was going wild..... as long as the Lankans were not scoring it was good for me.The pace was steady.The afternoon was heavy .It was siesta time.My eyelids drooped and I had a nice snooze in the cozy ac theatre all fragrant with popcorn and samosas.
'how can you sleep....Why did I miss something?' Maleha was still playing and the other guy( can't remember the name) he too was there before I had drifted into dreamland.
All seemed quite and still.So I quite didn't think I missed anything...
And for the rest of the day I lost my husband to the guy sitting next to him.They conversed animatedly..laughed over the fact that Maleha would be Sreesanth's captain in the next IPL and passionately discussed every ball thrown.
Finally it was half time.
God above would I survive the next half?????
India started batting.Sachin and Sehwag on the field.What more did India want?I dont know But I would have loved a nice blanket and some hot tea.
The audience was in a frenzy when the first ball left the bowler's hand.Six,six,six........and....................oh ok..no run...
Loud cries of "Its ok Sehwag...take it easy...." Of course Sehwag heard them.He just needed advice from these guys,right ...I thought .Once again there was a frenzied rush and people began to scream six,six siiiiiiixxxxxx and then ........OUT.The hall fell silent .Sehwag went back on a ZERO.The hall was quiet.I could hear a two hundred and ninety nine hearts beat in tandem and then I felt mine too go the same way...the audience was mourning.Was my heart too? I wondered? Then again Sachin went out for an 18.They all cried.With God out would the mortals be able to do anything?
Every time there was a ,four people began dancing
Every time Gambhir gimmicked people nearly had heart attacks.Why Why does he do this?Young blood that he is...Gambhir play slow...they screamed....
I was hungry, stiff and tired..
I looked around and found no supporters.No one cared for food ,water or anything else...The enthusiasm was of course infectious .When the young guns turned the match around I too had started rooting for them.I clapped loudly when Dhoni rocked.. and then when the final six exploded on screen the hall was a volcano.
What was simmering till then erupted now....
People were all over the streets.The Indian flag flew high.
The skies exploded in a multitude of colours.Impromptu rallies were the order of the night.With a long weekend in Mumbai,the party had just begun
And as for me,the madness is still beyond comprehesnion.Cricket still is a tangent in my circle of life.I am content with knowing that India has won.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Eat pray love
Eat Pray Love (previously "The Virtues of Life") is a 2010 comedy-drama film starring Julia Roberts as Elizabeth Gilbert, based on Gilbert's memoir Eat, Pray, Love. The film was co-written and directed by Ryan Murphy. It opened in the U.S. on August 13, 2010
Plot
Elizabeth Gilbert (Julia Roberts) had everything a modern woman is supposed to dream of having - a husband (Billy Crudup), a house, a successful career - yet like so many others, she found herself lost, confused, and searching for what she really wanted in life. Newly divorced and at a crossroads, Gilbert steps out of her comfort zone, risking everything to change her life, embarking on a journey around the world that becomes a quest for self-discovery. In her travels, she discovers the true pleasure of nourishment by eating in Italy; the power of prayer in India, and, finally and unexpectedly, the inner peace and balance of true love in Bali.
Does she really find it?What she do ?
She eats
She prays
She loves
She never does them together.And for me that is where the search fails.Spirituality is a way of life.Happiness is a way of life .These cannot be willed into your life.Positive affirmations do have far reaching impacts on human psyche and self confidence but it needs to be a part of your life and not fitted into it.
In India we are taught that food is God.Taking no religious stances,I strongly believe that we are born and reared in a culture of spirituality.Nothing is material.Everything is spiritual.The food you eat....a baby is ushered into the process of eating for a lifetime with a prayer .The clothes you wear,the house you live in,the education you get,the money that comes from your job, the car you own everything has its own associated spirituality.You learn to respect the position that all this occupies in your life.
Elizabeth leaves behind a confused husband and gorges on food in Italy.When you look at food only for physical satisfaction you do not deal with it spiritually.Food has to satiate not just your body but your soul.You do not gorge on your food.You savour it.You enjoy the process of its preparation as much as its consumption.In south India little kolams are drawn on the cooking gas stove so that the one prays before one cooks.Food is freshly prepared daily so that it retains all its vital nutrients and passes it on to one's body and through that to one's soul.
Ready and fast foods satisfy your body not your soul.these cannot replace good home cooked food spruced up with prayer and love.
Elizabeth reaches India to pray.Does a place inspire you to pray?Prayer comes from within and not without.Those have seen the song itni shakti hamein dena daata will notice that the two characters who sing the song keep doing their work while praying.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-w_P5Pr6eEQ
You don't segregate prayer from yourself. You don't only pray to figure out what your life is all about.You pray along with your life to figure it out.The munis and saints who renounced the world did so when they reached a higher plain of spirituality .They were beyond the demands of the physical world.And that is not something we all aim at in our lives.We aim to lead a happy life where the mind body and soul are all happy.
She reaches Bali and falls in love and once again enters the domain of marriage.Was life proving to be a full circle and marriage her final destiny?Or was this marriage again to a prelude to her next session of unhappiness ? Marriage again for me is not an experiment.It is not meant to be just a physical union .It is the union of the minds and the souls.You need to learn to live with all the pluses and minuses of your partner remembering that you too are a store house of pluses and minuses.One is not perfect .
Marriage is when you eat pray and love together.Marriage is when you eat pray and love for each other
You do not will happiness into life.You do not lay down conditions which say 'I will be happy only if.......'.
Elizabeth embarks on her travel no doubt supported by all the money she has earned.She travels around the world knowing fully well that she is financially secure.She doesn't need to worry how her next ticket is coming.She doesn't need to worry where she will stay.She doesn't need to worry how and where her next meal is.
Financially secure,she undertakes a travel which in her mind is a search for happiness and spirituality .
She feels she has reached her destination.For me she will never reach her destination as she will never stop searching.Why?
Simply becuse : she doesn't know what she is searching for....so she finds nothing.
Plot
Elizabeth Gilbert (Julia Roberts) had everything a modern woman is supposed to dream of having - a husband (Billy Crudup), a house, a successful career - yet like so many others, she found herself lost, confused, and searching for what she really wanted in life. Newly divorced and at a crossroads, Gilbert steps out of her comfort zone, risking everything to change her life, embarking on a journey around the world that becomes a quest for self-discovery. In her travels, she discovers the true pleasure of nourishment by eating in Italy; the power of prayer in India, and, finally and unexpectedly, the inner peace and balance of true love in Bali.
Does she really find it?What she do ?
She eats
She prays
She loves
She never does them together.And for me that is where the search fails.Spirituality is a way of life.Happiness is a way of life .These cannot be willed into your life.Positive affirmations do have far reaching impacts on human psyche and self confidence but it needs to be a part of your life and not fitted into it.
In India we are taught that food is God.Taking no religious stances,I strongly believe that we are born and reared in a culture of spirituality.Nothing is material.Everything is spiritual.The food you eat....a baby is ushered into the process of eating for a lifetime with a prayer .The clothes you wear,the house you live in,the education you get,the money that comes from your job, the car you own everything has its own associated spirituality.You learn to respect the position that all this occupies in your life.
Elizabeth leaves behind a confused husband and gorges on food in Italy.When you look at food only for physical satisfaction you do not deal with it spiritually.Food has to satiate not just your body but your soul.You do not gorge on your food.You savour it.You enjoy the process of its preparation as much as its consumption.In south India little kolams are drawn on the cooking gas stove so that the one prays before one cooks.Food is freshly prepared daily so that it retains all its vital nutrients and passes it on to one's body and through that to one's soul.
Ready and fast foods satisfy your body not your soul.these cannot replace good home cooked food spruced up with prayer and love.
Elizabeth reaches India to pray.Does a place inspire you to pray?Prayer comes from within and not without.Those have seen the song itni shakti hamein dena daata will notice that the two characters who sing the song keep doing their work while praying.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-w_P5Pr6eEQ
You don't segregate prayer from yourself. You don't only pray to figure out what your life is all about.You pray along with your life to figure it out.The munis and saints who renounced the world did so when they reached a higher plain of spirituality .They were beyond the demands of the physical world.And that is not something we all aim at in our lives.We aim to lead a happy life where the mind body and soul are all happy.
She reaches Bali and falls in love and once again enters the domain of marriage.Was life proving to be a full circle and marriage her final destiny?Or was this marriage again to a prelude to her next session of unhappiness ? Marriage again for me is not an experiment.It is not meant to be just a physical union .It is the union of the minds and the souls.You need to learn to live with all the pluses and minuses of your partner remembering that you too are a store house of pluses and minuses.One is not perfect .
Marriage is when you eat pray and love together.Marriage is when you eat pray and love for each other
You do not will happiness into life.You do not lay down conditions which say 'I will be happy only if.......'.
Elizabeth embarks on her travel no doubt supported by all the money she has earned.She travels around the world knowing fully well that she is financially secure.She doesn't need to worry how her next ticket is coming.She doesn't need to worry where she will stay.She doesn't need to worry how and where her next meal is.
Financially secure,she undertakes a travel which in her mind is a search for happiness and spirituality .
She feels she has reached her destination.For me she will never reach her destination as she will never stop searching.Why?
Simply becuse : she doesn't know what she is searching for....so she finds nothing.
Friday, February 18, 2011
caw caw at my window
"What are you doing?" asked my mother-in law- as she saw me leaning over the kitchen window."Oh just two slices of bread...the kids don't eat these..they are the first and last slice of the loaf.I was keeping them for the crows.They eat it." I informed her.She was slightly taken aback."You put bread slices for the crows?" "Yes,"I said,"Why is there anything wrong with that...with bread selling costlier than cakes,it would be shame to dunk into the dustbin......."Ok," she elaborated,"traditionally crows represent our ancestors and our ancestors never fed on bread.Don't do that.You could anger them!!!!" Ah I said.......of course we had a proud lineage.Just consider the people in question...my husband's paternal grandfather...the village priest:the most respected man around.Next my husband's maternal grandfather...a prosperous hotelier of his times.Chariots adorned his compounds.Then my paternal grandfather, the founder principal of the SIES group and my maternal grandfather, a business baron in Pune.Oh did I suddenly feel small and humble suddenly being surrounded by such luminaries..but why the grandmothers never came down as crows continues to puzzle me......anyway coming back to my story.....,"so," she declared "you need to feed them rice or at least something South Indian...an idli , a dosa etc but not bread...."
Ok so lets not anger the ancestors campaign had begun.The next morning after steaming the idlis, I religiously placed one on the window sill.
The first crow flew down...ah possibly one grandfather has come...he looked hard and long at the idli and went away.He came back with another one..goodie...one more grandpa has come.They both now stared at it.Was the shape wrong? Was it overcooked? Was it undercooked?I was as nervous as a new bride!!!!!
The third one came along.They almost seemed to be having a meeting.They kept looking at the idli and then flew away to their perch. None of them touched it.I thought they are probably waiting for grandfather 4 to come along too.A good ten minutes were spent in just checking the idli.I was almost a nervous wreck.
"My colleagues at the office would have devoured this by now.Whats taking these guys so much time......then they began CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW...all three of them.
I decided to be naughty and slowly slunk in the regular slices of bread and VOILA there was a flurry and the slices just vanished
Even as I type this out,the poor idli waits to be savoured by any willing forefather!!!!!!!
Ok so lets not anger the ancestors campaign had begun.The next morning after steaming the idlis, I religiously placed one on the window sill.
The first crow flew down...ah possibly one grandfather has come...he looked hard and long at the idli and went away.He came back with another one..goodie...one more grandpa has come.They both now stared at it.Was the shape wrong? Was it overcooked? Was it undercooked?I was as nervous as a new bride!!!!!
The third one came along.They almost seemed to be having a meeting.They kept looking at the idli and then flew away to their perch. None of them touched it.I thought they are probably waiting for grandfather 4 to come along too.A good ten minutes were spent in just checking the idli.I was almost a nervous wreck.
"My colleagues at the office would have devoured this by now.Whats taking these guys so much time......then they began CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW CAW...all three of them.
I decided to be naughty and slowly slunk in the regular slices of bread and VOILA there was a flurry and the slices just vanished
Even as I type this out,the poor idli waits to be savoured by any willing forefather!!!!!!!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Destined .....never to be....
The sky was dark....
The crescent moon beckoned her into his outstretched arms
The chaos of the night had gone....
The tumult of the morn was not yet born.
The moment was theirs...destined never to be......
The crescent moon beckoned her into his outstretched arms
The chaos of the night had gone....
The tumult of the morn was not yet born.
The moment was theirs...destined never to be......
Thursday, January 27, 2011
one little finger
One little finger was her voice to the world.
She towered tall and I was the dwarf.
She laughed loud and I was the joker.
She raced ahead.I just gasped at where I stood.
She spoke her heart out and I looked within.
She questioned the world and I had no answers.
She dared to soar and rise high.I was yet in my cocoon.
Did I have it in me,the grit and the determination?
Life threw challenges.
She played on.
Did I?
On a wheel chair she ran the whole mile.
On my feet had I even begun?
My tribute to Malini Chib,the author of One little finger
She towered tall and I was the dwarf.
She laughed loud and I was the joker.
She raced ahead.I just gasped at where I stood.
She spoke her heart out and I looked within.
She questioned the world and I had no answers.
She dared to soar and rise high.I was yet in my cocoon.
Did I have it in me,the grit and the determination?
Life threw challenges.
She played on.
Did I?
On a wheel chair she ran the whole mile.
On my feet had I even begun?
My tribute to Malini Chib,the author of One little finger
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
a random meeting
A random meeting.I suddenly spotted him by the coffee table in the crowd.I inched my way towards him just to check.Was it really him? Yes it was!!!! 20 years had passed and there he resurfaced into my life again....I sat down beside him.Neither of us talked.I just looked away not knowing what to do or say.Impulsively I let myself slip my hand into his.He still said nothing.His eyes stared into my soul.He seemed to be asking,"Why?"."Why did you go away?",he questioned.I had no answer.Can't I come back into your life?,he seemed to be asking."No,Not now.Too much time has passed in between.I have changed from what you knew me.I don't need you in my life any longer.",I said.I looked away trying to hide the miscreant tear that threatened to flow out and let him know of what I felt.I don't have any room for him.After all he was a gypsy from my youth .It was now time for him to move on.He could not stay.I could not let him stay.Oh!!! the sorrow of parting with a book once loved and cherished!!!!!!
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