Finally found my playground!

I wished for many things throughout my life. I was just at the back stage as a helper to the performers. I was never a great singer or dancer or speaker or actor. I never got any big prizes nor impressed anyone. I just dreamt, if I could!!

I wished to be a singer. I could sing with a group in school. But for solo competition, I would leave the stage after four or less lines, shivering and trembling. In my first year in school as a teacher, I was asked to sing and give a message. When the time came, my head was empty and my mouth was dry. I totally surrendered myself to God and went as an empty vessel. I could hear what I was speaking; but was sure that it didn’t come from my head. After a short message I sang the song. I felt good after singing it from my heart in God’s power and humbly accepted the compliments.  In my new school, I started with a solo for Teachers’ day and on many other occasions with my friends and I still continue it and enjoy every occasion to sing for the children.

I wished to be an actor; but never thought that I could. I was asked to act in my new school. In my first year I did an LKG baby’s part and I enjoyed it. The next year I wrote the script for a skit and was the narrator. That too turned out so well and we were immersed in the laughter and howling of the students. I was happy to make such a hilarious play with a twist that made all cry at the end. The title ‘Tears and Laughter’ was so apt for the play.

I wished to stand before the crowd and give a talk. I was asked to give a message for Christmas, and speeches on other occasions, which I did with ease. I was amazed each time how I managed to do these things with confidence and smile.

I wished to be a winner as I hardly won prizes after my primary classes. I never thought that I will, till my students compelled me to participate in the musical chair and badminton match. I ended up being the runner up of both competitions and received a trophy from the Principal.

I wished to be a dancer, but never did I dare to perform anywhere. This children’s day I was asked to dance and I did a ribbon dance wearing the student’s school uniform with hair plaited on both sides and tied with blue ribbon! I was thrilled with the applause of my students and to see the wonderment in their eyes to see me in their uniform. I enjoyed each step I took without any former practice and felt so happy that I enjoyed doing it.

I wanted to do many things as a student and all that I wished is coming to reality after being a teacher. There are still a few more dreams left and I hope I’ll be asked to do those things, if God wills.

The voice of an LKG kid, a Higher secondary student, and an old lady…I have rendered to my students. Or to put in another way, God took me in all the ways possible to make my dreams come true many times.

It was much fun to do with my colleagues than the students. Students want to portray themselves as grown-ups while we eagerly find out the child in us! There are a few more dreams that I dream and if God wills, I’ll be blessed by a stage to make them true.

I wished that I should never ever become a teacher. I disliked that profession as I didn’t grow or learn much during my school.  But the good Lord knew where my dreams can become realities and He made me come back to school to do everything that I missed to do at school. And now I realize that being a teacher is the only way for an adult to come back to a school stage. It doesn’t make any difference whether I did as a child or an adult.

I don’t want to waste my time in comparing and competing with others. Thanks to my kids who have helped me, cheered me and loved me. It is from you that I learned that anyone can do anything to the best of their abilities. I call myself a Clunyte as this is the place I grew up as an adult and as a kid.

I still remain a student, than a teacher. Teaching French is easier than learning the art of being myself and doing what I like. Each day that passes by, my students teach me to come out of the box and try new things and their cheers give me confidence. Whatever I try to do, I’m sure that my students are with me and I do anything to make them laugh and shout for a while.

So, being a teacher is a pretext to be on the same grounds with the kids and I hope and wish that I’ll do much more with them around. Losing my job is less scary than losing the company of my friends and students. And whenever I quit the school, I’ll quit rather as a student of children than a teacher of children. Always I’ll be grateful to Cluny management and teachers and students, where I could laugh and joke and even play the part of a Terror! At the end Clunytes will wonder what I really am…and I hope you know the real me…I’ll never keep a distance with any student which cannot be shortened with a hug! Love you girls, love you Cluny! And love to all my friends and my dearest family for your encouragement and support and for being there always to share my joy!

To my dearest students...on the eve of another Children's day...

Many times I've written to you in the past; either about me as a teacher or you as a student. Nowadays I don't see myself as a teacher or you as my students. This year is going on with a lot of other things other than French text books.

I teach you French and I make you learn, set question papers and correct the answer sheets. All these are just helping to learn a language or score well in your exams. In my heart of hearts, it doesn't mean anything great. But you, each one of you matters very much.

I know what a child is and when I look at your delicate faces, I can only throw away the trivial issues we have in class. For sure, I can say one thing: you, your parents and teachers, we are all mere puppets controlled by a system called education. Nothing is in our hands to choose. What they choose, we have to follow.

I wish we could interact more than learning and have some fun to melt the tension. The school is a park we all take a stroll for 8 hours with our friends, a place where we find some rest and solace. Exams are our only enemy, and that too one day becomes a habit.

Apart from academics, you and me, we have a life that we live. May be I am old enough to handle life or bold enough to ignore the issues. The more years I spend with you, the more I'm aware that many of you are handling a life, not knowing how to proceed. If I could teach you about life, if I could give you some guidance when you stand at cross roads, if I could take away the pain and stop your tears...

It breaks my heart when any child collapses when the burden of life is more than her strength. And I admire the way you bounce back and face life again. Your thoughts are so innocent and nobler than mine, and when my focus is to save you from the trouble, your focus will be to defend those who've hurt you. Your strong faith in God and His will make me your humble student. The hearts that aren't wicked or crooked, the love that forgives, the readiness to help...the list is long..but I learn from you every day.

I feel helpless when you're hurt and sad. I hate to see tears rolling or the effort that you take to hold it back. The frail bodies falling due to enormous weight on the head and heart, I wish you were courageous.

I'm not God to fix neither my problems nor yours. But I am totally sure that God can do anything and I have found that, that is the only thing I can do for you. If my presence or words ever soothed you, I thank God for that. At the same time, if I have increased your pain by my words or actions, I regret.

There is always something that goes on in the vehicle called life. But if you have the wisdom to take care of yourself, without hurting yourself with unnecessary thoughts and memories, you will go through life without breaking down. May the path be curved and narrow, or may it be an upward slope, or sometimes so rough with gutters. As long as we are inside the bus and if God drives it, why worry? 

Along the way I feel powerless before the syllabus and the score. All of you moulded in the same mould, leaving you no chance to even speak about your dreams, having no clue of what goes inside you, I feel as a failure as a teacher though I'm a good mark maker! I teach you only how your brain works, but not how to save your heart from hurts. 

Looking at you, teaching French is not my priority. The person called you, and the personality that you are, your thoughts, your views, your heartaches, your life matters much. But in the midst of all the classes and exams each one passes by without saying much. I get lost between the pressure of syllabus and my consciousness, without knowing whether to do justice to teaching or to help you to simplify life. French is just a pretext to be with you and to know you and to say at least a prayer for you. 

Between the mask of a teacher and the real desire of my heart, I hang without a way to do what my soul says. Even when I know that you have your reasons, I push you to do your best. I know the society and I know that you will cry more if you aren't equipped with at least basic education and discipline. I don't feel guilty, but surely feel inadequate to meet your needs. 

As you have, I too have limits. I'm trying to extend the way I can, but I wish I can be there in your needs, as a person to lift you up, a person you can share with, a love that can console you. Behind the veil of a teacher and a student, we have to admit that we need each other and we complement each other.

Tomorrow another day in school, exams, invigilation and evaluation...nothing is going to change the reality. Yet the fact that we are sailing in the same boat is comforting. May God help us to go through this journey and please remember that the teacher may fail to touch your life, but she is always your well wisher.

Though I am a teacher, I prefer to remain in my identity as a student who sat for hours on the bench, feeling the same as you feel now. I know what you are..at the end, an innocent life, who struggles and manages to bear the pressure of life.

Thanks for making me a teacher and a better human being. Even if I forget French, I won’t forget the lessons I learned from you..
Happy Children's Day!!

Thanks, with love, me...

If not a better India, at least a better Indian?

Bharat Matha or Mother India

Isn't it a name to symbolize tolerance?

We all are busy looking up to grow

Are we scared to see the misery around?

Sky is set as the target to scale

Haven’t we failed to run the race here?

We all know, yet try to highlight India

But can we ever call India, a home to live?

Body, mind and soul are murdered

Do we win when we destroy someone?

We prevent the extinction of animals and birds

Where are we when a human being dies?

We charge anyone who kills a deer or tiger

How do all escape after killing a human?

We blame it on the population often

When we are more, aren't we more powerful?  

Poverty is the second excuse assumed

Isn't it lack of civilization, the truth?

We have touched all continents on Earth

Have we succeeded in touching another life?

Boarding schools and old age homes multiply

How will we create a home without its members?

We have tried with all rulers' rule

Could anyone make India better than before?

We project our country as a super power 

Can we ignore the dirt that we walk on?

India is growing and glowing before the world

Why Indians never grow out of their boxes?

We have so many religions and faiths

How then we fail to love each other?

India has given its women, power to rule

Then why can't women walk on India's streets?

India's tradition, culture and customs

Aren't they really fairy tales told?

When we pretend that we are flying high

Do we even know where we stand?

We live in horror regardless of our class

Aren't we wearing a mask to look brave?

India’s pride is India’s power

Where in India can we find them both?

It may be better than some worse countries

Is comparison a resort to absolve our sins?

We'll surely leave this place now or later

But what have we left for our children to live?

We enjoy what our forefathers fought for 

Will our kids inherit a better country? 

What are we doing in Moon and Mars

When nothing is done on planet Earth?

When there's nothing here to eat and drink

Why worry if there's water in space?

If we can do something, let us wait for none

Don't we know to do what is just and right?

We may not succeed in making a better India

But who can stop us being better Indians?

Who is the winner?

Live like a candle

Melt to spread light

Till the end bright

Enlightening the soul

Nothing but some wax

At the bottom to find

Leaving a proof

Of a life turned to light

The more you give

The more you live

The more you love

The more you glow

When you live

Think of your death

When you die

Forget about your life

It’s better that you offer

Your life and light here

So that death will not claim

But an empty body, chill

Let you and your love

Live in the hearts of many

Leave it not to be buried

Nor to the fire, futile

Liberate your soul

To fly towards its abode

Never be a miser in life

Lest your end is hell

Give it to the world of living

Empty your life before its end

Let tears of gratitude be

The last gift your loved ones give

The last one to smile is the winner

The one who gets the most is the winner

When your life touches its finish line

Who will win; your life or death? 

A teacher called Death!

Birth defines our clan and caste

Some born rich and some born poor

Orphans, handicapped, under privileged

Royal, noble, your luck starts in the womb

Life can transform everything

Rich may fall and poor may fly

When fortunes disappear from one

Treasures may be found by another

Class and style manifest each one's power

Mansions and luxuries prove one's wealth

Others toil all day long in sun and rain

Nothing to save at the end of the day

Death comes at last with the final say

Either to earth or to fire goes the body

Either to hell or to Heaven moves the spirit

Whoever, whatever, everyone alike

You can control a birth, but never a death

Death does teach you the meaning of life

Death doesn’t discriminate, but decides

You can only surrender to its clutch

The colour and caste and creed and culture

Possessions and positions, powers held

Poverty and paucity, justice denied

The place and language and laws and mores

Presuming the life to be long and fine

Each one amass wealth in plenty

Death laughs when it carries you

Far from all the dreams you've dreamt

There’s no body not eaten by worms

There’s no ash whose colour isn't grey

Everything turns to the very same state

A message that no living human would heed

There’s no better hell or no worse hell

The souls dwell in any of these two

Death is a lesson of life and its worth

Life is a test to choose the best.

The last flickers of a candle

Have you ever seen a person dying? Have you heard the cry of excruciating pain of cancer? Have you sensed the feelings of those who wait for death? Have you ever known their need for love more than anything in this world? This is a tribute to a lady lived her life, helping others live and sailed her boat alone to her destiny.

I still didn’t tell you who she is. She is my husband’s maternal aunt who remained a spinster to support the families of her sisters. She spent her money, energy, time and everything to take care of their families.

Yesterday I went to meet her with my sons. She is bedridden and can’t even turn to her sides. Lying down flat on the bed, she lifted both her hands to embrace us. She kissed and blessed us and lifted her arms up and prayed for each one of us. Her face and arms were yellow and she looked so different from before. Then she inquired about my sons and she was so happy when I told her that through her prayers and God’s blessings, they are doing well. She kept on telling “I am so happy to see you. God bless you!” and thanked God again and again. Then she would pray for God’s mercy. Again she called the kids and embraced them. She told me again, “I am so happy to see you. It’s been very a long time since we met. I won’t be here for long. In HIS time I’ll go.”

Two hours went by and though I somehow bravely controlled my flowing tears, I couldn’t stop caressing her and stroking her hair. She loved to be held in love and I saw in her a mother who never borne a child but gave life to so many children and grandchildren without expecting anything in return. I reminisced her lovely and lively company in the past and the fun we had, her laughter and words still ringing in my ears. Here she is, no eyes can bear her looks and no heart can contain the sorrow in her eyes. She spoke to us in Malayalam and English, though feeble, still in her best.  When a lady asked her if she is able to recognize us, she replied bravely “I am still conscious!”

One thing I didn’t say yet. It’s pretty hard to put into words, written or verbal. I’ll somehow make an attempt. In every five minutes or so, she would grin and close her eyes and express the intense pain that the cancer causes with a loud cry…AaaaaaaA….. writhing both her hands, a cry for help, a cry for some relief from the pain.  Those were the moments where we could do nothing but watch as helpless humans, feeling hard to even see her suffering.

It was time for us to leave. I had nothing to give her, except a blessed rosary. There was only one thing that she needed; a human touch, her relatives’ visits, someone to sit by her side. Helpless to stay there longer and unable to leave her all at once, I stood up. Then I asked her to smile. She gave us a beautiful smile which brought back life to her face and to our hearts. Before another agonizing cry could disturb us, we said ‘Goodbye’ with a smile and left her. 

Born and brought up in a small village of Tamil Nadu, thanks to her parents who were Keralites, she could speak Tamil and Malayalam equally well. Among the five sisters, she was the one who pursued her studies till post-graduation – a masters in sociology. She worked in Delhi as warden of Miranda House Hostel and she could handle Hindi and English so well.

I met her in May 1988 when my husband first came to see me in Kerala seeking a matrimonial alliance. Perhaps it is her charm and love that made me say ‘yes’ to the proposal! She was the main reason behind my husband’s success.  After completing his pre-degree, she took him to Delhi and he ended up being Editorial Assistant in WHO, Geneva.

She has travelled to many countries and my husband was blessed with an opportunity to take her around Switzerland.  She loved, she cared and because of her, many had the privilege to come up in life.

In her sixties, she underwent a surgery for colon cancer after which she never wore her ornaments. She gave away all her jewels to all the ladies in the family and to me, she gifted a diamond ring.

Her favourite pastime was watching the television, playing cards and caroms. She was a voracious reader of novels, especially those of Agatha Christie, Thomas Hardy. She is a good cook and her cakes were too special. She has her own flat at Anna Nagar, Chennai. She loved to laugh and to be happy. When she couldn’t be independent, she moved to an aged home run by her niece. Till then, she used to send us cards for Christmas and Birthday every year and enclose a cheque of 800 rupees for four of us.

After two falls and two surgeries her movement was restricted. But she did everything she could do regardless of her physical conditions excepting her weekly trip by bus to a far away church as a pilgrimage. Her sweet smile and swift short steps made her different from others. A well wisher of all, she lived her life as a sacrifice for many.

Before going to the aged home, she distributed her sarees to the ladies of the house. I have her beautiful sarees, silk and cotton, the last one given was a silk saree, when I went to visit her in the aged home. It was still in its box, may be someone had given it to her as a gift.

She witnessed the loss of many in the family including all her sisters, some young, some old. Now she is 89. A few weeks back she got admitted to a hospital to be treated for jaundice. But further examinations revealed the cause of her elevated level of bilirubin was due to cancer attacking her liver. As she is not fit for a major surgery, there wasn’t much the hospital could do and she was taken back to the aged home.

Thank God that she still doesn’t know that she is suffering from cancer. But she knows well that she is going to leave any time, soon. She has nothing to leave behind except the love that she has planted in our hearts. She has no child to worry about. But we, a few, are sad about losing a mother.

I don’t know if she has hours, days or a month to leave us. That doesn’t make any difference. What she was and what still is, matters. And the fact that she is spending her last moments only to communicate with God, is surely consoling. No hands can be more loving than God’s and no home can be better than Heaven. She has almost finished her race on Earth and may God help her to take the last few steps towards Him. 

She lived up to her name “Thangam” and I’m sure that she’ll shine like gold Eternally.  Love you my dearest Thangam Aunty. I don’t ask you to stay back. But it’s so hard to say ‘Goodbye’

The dark side of light

Two kids peeked to the street

Each Diwali, every year

To see the fireworks dazzling

And all the rich kids laughing

They never got a chance

To buy or burst a cracker

But still both used to laugh

With each noise deafening

His name was Dayal

His little sister was Diya

They both saw Diwali

In the posh lane, nearby

Their house was in the slum

Where the mansions end

They were poor humans lived in huts

And for rich they were a bad omen

When Dayal was twelve and Diya, ten

A man came home to take them to work

Their mother sent them both in tears

As she had no way to feed her kids

Every evening they came home tired

With a dark body and a sad face

Gave the little pay they got

To their mother, sick and thin

Diwali was a curse for them

They worked so long and so hard

Making crackers is too different

Than buying them and bursting them

Eve of Diwali, they were called

The man paid them a little more

Then a packet full of crackers

To burst and celebrate Diwali

They reached home with sleepy eyes

Had their bath and had some food

The sound of crackers was too loud

But they didn’t go to see the fun

Dayal thought of his Diwali dreams

Of a new dress and a box of crackers

At least to hold a sparkler, thin

To laugh and play with her sister dear

Today he has his dream in hands

The box of crackers on Diwali eve

He thought of all his comrades young

Who made it all, through night and day

He slowly walked to the streets of joy

Found the kids well dressed and merry

To see the sparkling lights appearing

To hear the thundering rockets soaring

Dayal found a little lad sitting

Watching the fun while rich kids played

He clapped and laughed when a cracker bursts

He was too poor to buy a sparkler

He turned to see a box stretching

Towards him, he felt he’s dreaming

He ran home to show his sister

The treasure he got in a shining box

Dayal took his steps homeward

Lights and sounds meant nothing to him

When everyone enjoyed Diwali’s fun

He just wanted to sleep a while

Today as we crack fireworks plenty

Enjoy the sweets and wear new outfits

Who’ll think of the faded lives

Of little souls that brightened this Diwali!! 

If we could...If we would...

Life flows resembling a stream

Sometimes fast, sometimes slow

Never to come back even an inch

Touching new miles along its way

No one knows how long life can be

Everyone thinks it's surely long

Each year spins in the axis called 'self'

No time for anything or anyone but 'me'

Are we streams of water polluted?

Or are we the ones that bring life to others?

Did we make a home for fishes?

Did we nourish the trees on both sides?

Have we been a source of solace?

Have we been a friend to the needy?

Have we thought of the poor and homeless?

Have we bothered to smile at a stranger?

We could bend to a crying child

Wipe his tears and comfort him

Lift someone who has fallen down

Bind his wounds and help him stand

Each day rises with a basket of good work

To be done to others to nurture our lives

Blind are we if focused to self

As life is a walk that we take outside

On the wayside stay lives strangled

In homes live sick ones stranded

The old and the dying and destitute

Live in the hope that we might help

It could be us who touch the lives

We could’ve changed a life to a wonder

The more we extend to care for others

The more we expand to a nobler self

Slow the vehicle, if an old man crosses

Help a blind to find his lost way

Don’t get annoyed if a mad man stares

Pray for the youth who’s speeding his bike

Be a visitor to a mourning house

Support them to bear their grief

Don’t walk away from depressed and oppressed

May be we are the last ones to pass his way

Life can be long or short, God alone knows

But it’s not counted by the years we lived

The lives we touched, the wounds we healed

Will count our lives till infinity

To restore each heart that dies in pain, alone

To revive the weak and the frail from their pangs

To refresh us with the showers from above

Let love alone flow through the stream of our life

From the heart of a little girl...

Have you ever felt the pain of a little child who've lost a mother or father?
Can you ever imagine the agony of that little heart?
The questions without answers, who can ever console that little heart?
I dedicate this poem to all little kids who've to grow up without a mother or a father. Praying for you...Sindhu

I'm a little kid

Of just ten years

Don't know too much

As I'm too small

How am I born

And what life is

I know not yet

As I'm too small

What I see

And what I hear

Puzzles me a lot

As I'm too small

I had a mom, 

Why did she die? 

I want to see her

As I'm too small

Everyone loves me, 

But I need my mom

To cuddle me tight

As I'm too small

I didn’t do any wrong 

For her to leave me

Won't she come back

As I'm too small?

I loved her dearly

I was her dearest

I want her by my side

As I'm too small

My mom was there

To feed me, to teach me

I can't do a thing alone

As I'm too small

  

My mom explained

Many things to me

I believed them all

As I'm too small

Did she tell a lie,

When she said that

She'll always be near;

As I'm too small?

I can't see her

They said she died

No one tells me more

As I'm too small

I'm tired of crying

I can't afford

To lose a mother

As I'm too small

I saw her falling

One step she missed

Tell me what an accident is

As I'm too small

Before she taught me life

She showed me death

Both I don't understand

As I'm too small

Her spirit will be with me

Anywhere I go, they say

Is it again a lie that's told

As I'm too small?

I love you, mom

Will you live in my heart

Will you be with me

As I'm too small?

God, please let my mom be

In my little heart

Won't you give her back to me

As I'm too small.

WAYSIDE JOURNAL: An Immune India

An immune India is a wonderful dream which can certainly be realized by abolishing the misconceptions about diseases, medicines and healing that prevailed among us Indians and transferred to the next generations. It is a dream worth dreaming as every reality starts with a dream.

Over the centuries, India has proven its survival from epidemics and we, Indians, have explored various ways helping people ward off the diseases. But still we suffer from many deadly and contagious diseases and fail to diagnose them well on time and treat them before they spread widely.

Every little step to knowledge starts with ‘education’. The first and foremost lesson is the awareness of the importance of personal hygiene. The body, mind and soul must periodically be cleansed before they infect us in toto. Education starts from birth and continues till one’s death. The basic education must give emphasis on imparting the knowledge of personal hygiene and welfare.

Good habits can be taught both at schools and at homes. But these habits take a back seat as schools and, homes have simply turned into buildings and houses that emphasizes mainly on the academic performance of the children, resulting nervous wrecks. We teach them about life, but conveniently fail to tell them how to live it. We brief them about diseases, their causes and treatment, but not the ways to prevent them. The old proverb, ‘Prevention is better than cure’, stands proof to the fact that our forefathers definitely were wise to live a life that resulted good health and immunity.

Indians, today, are keener on ‘protection’ than ‘prevention’. There is no much difference in the result, though their ways of protection differ totally from one to another.

The rich keep their babies in an air-conditioned room or car, with no chance to breathe fresh air or no way to see the outside world. Everything is taken care of to the maximum so that the child is not touched by anything bad or ugly. This kind of overprotection restricts the child to get used to the real world conditions.

The poor, on the other hand, are forced to expose their babies to dust and dirt, right from the maternal ward of the hospital to their houses. Their houses invite all types of diseases from the streets and are always infected owing to their poor hygienic habits.

Indians, in general, protect their children by denying them most of the fruits and grains by blaming them for being either making the body hot or cold, thus making the babies victims of malnutrition.

Yet, the fact is that any child from any house, regardless of their ways of protection, gets sick with the same diseases. The young bodies are treated with antibiotic drugs in oral form or injection for a quick healing. Once they see the magic healing, the parents get these medicines over-the-counter, thereby skipping a physician’s consultation. These drugs, in spite of their ability to cure the child in a short span of time, reduce the body’s immunity, thereby making it vulnerable to attract bacteria and viruses. Thus, the child’s trajectory through the vicious circle of infection starts, leading it to affect the body in many ways.

Thus proves that protection from diseases is rather an illusion, whereas preventing them is the only way to good health. Educating Indians, to live healthily and to leave a healthy environment for others to live, might pave way to form a healthier India. There must be strict rules which, if not followed, will have serious repercussions. The waste disposal, spitting wherever one wants to, the serving of food products with unclean hands, reuse of cooking oil, walking barefoot on streets, indiscriminate burning of plastics at every corner, sight of vehicles without the roadworthiness certificate belching out obnoxious smoke on the road, etc. will make a never-ending list that needs to be changed. Moreover a small percentage of the population influenced by superstition put faith in the religious rituals without providing any medical treatment to their kids.

Once we attain the real sense of a clean India, we can start dreaming of an Immune India. The Immune India can only originate from every individual Indian. The immune system of a person consists of innate immunity, naturally acquired-immunity and artificially acquired-immunity. Everyone is born with an innate immunity and through fighting diseases and by periodical inoculation they acquire the other types of immunities. It is up to the individual to improve or to diminish the development of the immune system.

The immune system improves if the diseases are treated naturally. No branch of any medicine does it better than Ayurveda, which means, ‘Science of Life’. Its holistic approach of treatment stresses the importance of cleansing the mind and the body, thus building up a strong immune system.

Ayurveda is believed to be one of the oldest branches of medicine known to the humanity, which is practised rarely by Indians. It not only treats diseases but also improves the immune system, thus protecting the body from infections. If Indians go back to the traditional way of life and cure, many ailments caused by the side effects of allopathic medicines could be avoided.

What more can you give the baby than a sleep in the cloth cradle and a bathe in the natural bathtub made of the areca palm and the sweet milk of the mother? Can any baby lotion or soap made of chemicals match the coconut oil or mustard oil applied on the baby’s skin? The traditional Indian baby massage that strengthens the baby is a boon in other countries, but rare in India.

If we try and do our part, we can gift our children, a country free from all evils. Let our kids walk in clean roads. Let them listen to the songs of birds and enjoy nature’s bounty. Let them know India as a developed country. Let them know the values and culture which enrich the heart of each Indian. Let them learn music and dance of India and to be responsible to keep in mind that tomorrow’s India must be better than today’s. Let them eat home food and stop eating junk. Let them be healthy but never being obese. Let them treat their bodies with safe Ayurvedic medicines and enrich their minds with noble thoughts.

We must carry out our mission so that our children will follow our footsteps.

Our priority must be to make India a better place to live.

We must work together with a single vision.

We must trust ourselves and delve deep to find our nation’s riches.

We must keep our body, mind and soul healthy, and clean.

We must learn to live honestly and make our country immune from corruption and anti-social elements.

We should make India, an exemplary nation, a light that the whole world can follow.

We may be different in so many ways: let nothing divide us from being Indians.

Above all, we must be united not by the same religion, but in the power of Almighty.

Let me see my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren live in Immune India, the perfect gift that I can ever give them.

And let me do my part to realise my dream and leave behind an Immune India for all generations to come.

Let us go back to nature and find each treasure to save us from illness, and to heal us from sickness and to create a New India, an Immune India!

 www.daburchyawanprash.com This article is part of the competition, 'An Immune India'