A Sunday in Heaven!!

Nature, the best teacher..

Today afternoon at Yercaud..We had to stop gardening when rain poured suddenly from nowhere. 

 But we laughed when we looked at the blue sky on the other side.

 Then, came the sun through the black cloud...

and finally sun brought light through the darkest of clouds!! 

There will be a bright side always, which can be missed by not turning towards it. And there is no darkness which light cannot shine through..

A mother named India

A Mother named India. 

She had great sons and daughters
Who called her Ma, and loved her dearly
They wrote great words, sang great songs
Glorified, praised and adored her!

Her daughters served, her sons fought
She was worshiped by all her kids
She was envied and she lured
Many people, near and far

Diamonds, rubies, she lacked nothing
Riches plenty, she was adorned
A beauty unique, lush and lavish
She was the queen of all empires

Sword and daggers, bows and arrows
They used them not to protect her 
Through the silent path of Ahimsa
They built a land of calm and freedom 

Alas, when all her enemies left 
Her own kids turned her worst foes
Killed each other in the name of gods
Left her in a shameful state

They won her back, the freedom she lost
But enchained her in a cage forever
Ever since, she lives in silence
Without words, she quakes in fear

A helpless mother, with rotten kids
Who saddens her with a million crimes
Every year she wonders why
They salute her in a foreign style

Years passed, she is slowly killed
No one cares, but for a day or two
Though her tricolour flag flies high 
She stays unmoved by the rituals done

Her tears dried up like rivers dry
Seeing sons die in violence crude
Her sighs echoes but never heard
In the violent cries of daughters dear

Mother India, you know your kind
Loudspeakers, speeches and parades
Another Independence Day is passing by
For proud Indians to brag again

From my corner where I hide
I wish for peace for a little while
Till I can't walk on your streets, safe
There's nothing to wish you, Mother India.

From my own cage!!

Though there’s nothing big to discuss

Have to share this topic, now

I just opened my door today

Stepped out for a while this evening

Not on the road, to my own balcony

To put some manure and water the plants

As soon as I started, came a stupid old man

As if to relax on his balcony

Best time for sightseeing, idiotic creature

Was seated in comfort, staring at me

Felt if I could pick up a stone and fling it on him

I wished that it would bring me some comfort

But I can’t do a thing, will our society tolerate

A poor old man being stoned?

So poor me, took all my tools

Stopped my work and climbed down the steps

As soon as I reached down, he went inside

But even if I climb up again, that imbecile would come again

Tomorrow dawn, before light spreads

I must go again to tend my plants

Bitter gourd, ladies finger, tomato plants, forgive me

I must check the time even to pour some water

I will tie around the green garden net, but

I won’t be a sight for a worthless old man

Only a solace; a bit of comfort

I have my own Malayalam to write this down

To read, I have my friends

A few souls who are human

Thank God, one more day got over

In my own cage, where there’s no freedom

Bottom of Form

 The translation of the original poem in Malayalam is less expressive. But still those who feel the pain of being stared at, just because you have a human body, will understand what I am trying to say.

എന്റെ സ്വന്തം കിളിക്കൂട്ടിൽ നിന്ന്!!!!

പ്രത്യേകിച്ചു വല്യ കാര്യമൊന്നുമില്ലെങ്കിലും
പറയാതെ ഇന്നു വയ്യ ഈ വിഷയം

വെറുതെ എൻ കതകൊന്നു തുറന്നു ഞാനിന്നു
വൈകിറ്റൊരിത്തിരി നേരം പുറത്തേയ്ക്കിറങ്ങി

റോഡിലല്ല, എന്റെ സ്വന്തം ബാൽക്കണിയിൽ
ചെടിയ്ക്കു വളമിടാൻ, വെള്ളമോഴിയ്ക്കാൻ

പണി തുടങ്ങിയതും ഒരു മുതുകിളവൻ വന്നു
വെറുതെയിരുന്നു കാറ്റുകൊള്ളാനെന്ന ഭാവത്തിൽ

കാഴ്ചകാണാൻ ഒരു നല്ലനേരം, മുതുക്കൻ
എന്റെ നേരെ തിരിഞ്ഞങ്ങിരുപ്പായി

ഒരു കല്ലെടുത്തൊരു ഏറു കൊടുത്തിരുന്നെങ്കിൽ
എനിക്കൊരിത്തിരി ശാന്തി കിട്ടുമെന്നാശിച്ചു ഞാൻ

വയ്യല്ലോ ഒന്നും നമ്മുടെ സമൂഹം പൊറുക്കുമോ
ഒരു പാവം കിഴവൻ കല്ലേറു കൊണ്ടെങ്കിൽ?

അതുകൊണ്ടു ഞാൻ പാവം എടുത്തു എൻ ആയുധങ്ങൾ
പണിയും നിറുത്തി ഞാൻ ഇറങ്ങി താഴത്തേയ്ക്ക്

ഞാൻ താഴെ വന്നതും അയാൾ പോയി അകത്തേയ്ക്ക്
ഒന്നുകൂടി പടി കേറിയാലും വരുമല്ലോ കാലമാടൻ

നാളെ വെളുപ്പിനു വെളിച്ചം വരും മുൻപേ
പോകണം  വീണ്ടുമെന്റെ ഉദ്യാനപാലനത്തിനായ്

പാവലേ, വെണ്ടയേ, തക്കാളിച്ചെടിയേ, മാപ്പ്
ഇറ്റു വെള്ളമോഴിയ്ക്കാൻ പോലും സമയം നോക്കണം ഞാൻ

പച്ചവലകെട്ടിയെങ്കിലും ഞാൻ പണിയും, പക്ഷെ
ഒരു  പടുകിഴവനു കാണാൻ കാഴ്ചയാവാനില്ല ഞാൻ

ഒരു സമാധാനം മാത്രം; ഒരിത്തിരി ആശ്വാസം
ഇതൊന്നെഴുതുവാൻ എന്റെ സ്വന്തം മലയാളമുണ്ടല്ലോ

വായിക്കുവാൻ എന്റെ കൂട്ടുകാരുണ്ടല്ലോ
മനുഷ്യരായ കുറച്ച്ച്ചാത്മാക്കൾ ഉണ്ടല്ലോ

നന്ദി ദൈവമേ, ഒരു ദിനം കൂടി കഴിഞ്ഞല്ലോ
സ്വാതന്ത്ര്യമില്ലാത്ത എൻ സ്വന്തം കിളിക്കൂട്ടിൽ!!!!

Inglish Vs English

I don't remember who taught me the letters of the English alphabet. Before I knew that I was learning, I had started it and it goes on till today. Looking back, I see an ocean, and when I look forward, I see the very same. So much I've learnt and so much I've to learn.

I owe my English knowledge to my schools and the English teachers and the English books that I had. My passion for English gained me a Master’s in the same. Still like most of the Keralites, I couldn't speak much in English as Keralites learn English, to read and write.

I remember one family member taking me to an exhibition, to explain about the product and I was dumb the whole day and he said he was ashamed of me! The biggest blow was when I spoke to a lady at WHO, Geneva where my husband used to work. Whatever she asked I nodded or said 'yes' and filled the blank with a stupid smile. At the end she asked my husband 'Doesn't she speak English?' To my shock, my husband replied, 'Of course! She has a master’s in English literature! I wished the earth would open and swallow me.

Then I got an American friend in Switzerland, with who I used to chat for hours about our babies and baby problems. The only pastime was to watch TV and CNN and M TV became my relief from boredom. Finally I learnt to speak French and English.

After 7 years in Swiss, we decided to settle down in Chennai. Chennai is a place where everyone speaks English and use mobile phones. Even vendors on the road side use English words in their common vocabulary. I had no big problem till I joined a school as a French teacher. My French was better than my English. I thought except Keralites, all could speak good English.

But when I listened, in all the words where we use 'O', Tamilians use 'A' and as I listened to people of every state, they all had one problem or the other when it comes to English pronunciation.

I was constantly laughed at as a 'Malayali' for my 'Malayali accent' and I thought I am the worst English speaker in Tamil Nadu. Then I noticed that they make another set of mistakes in English:  Xerox as Jerox, Zero as 'Jeero', and Paul as Pal etc. Malayalis pronounce them as Serox, Sero, and Pol. My greatest shock is the word Tamizh being pronounced as Taamil by the native speakers though they have a letter ‘zh’ in their alphabet. My confidence grew and I started taking precaution, not to make mistakes. My husband taught me that in the pronunciation of 'Almonds', 'l' is silent, it is not 'cope up with', but 'cope with', not 'mellow down', but 'mellow' and so many other things.

My kids used to laugh at the Malayali English accent and love to imitate and laugh. I had only one defence; a joke that I read somewhere. 'One day a Malayali was asking a Tamilian for 'OYIL'. The Tamilian didn't understand anything even after repeated hearing. Finally, when he got a clue, he asked 'AAyila?'. People from North India Espeaks about Espoon and Eschool.

I don't want to go to the details of it; but the fact is, to any native speaker of English, there is no Keralite or Tamilian or North Indian English. All they know that it is not any other English and they have named all the Indian accent and usage as 'Indian English'.

So my observation says, if you speak good English, you cannot survive in India. If you speak with any other accent in a different state, you are ridiculed. The best side of Indians is that, if they hear any foreign accent where nothing sounds like English, they say 'Wow!'  The worst thing is, if any Indian speaks like a native speaker, he will be most laughed at.

It is not the pronunciation, but the style that matters the most. Those who pretend that their English is the best put a false accent and get noticed as a good speaker. But why Indians laugh at other Indians for their Indian English? The result is, none of the Indians tried to learn the language in its depth, but wasted their time at laughing at each other. I have heard so many people who ridicule others making mistakes in their English.

As a lover of English, I have decided to leave Indian English (if I can call it Inglish) and am trying to learn the language in its depth. There is no Indian state which I have found speaking English well. Though Keralites are the most laughed at, I feel that Manglish changes to Tanglish, Hinglish etc. as we travel through the states of India.  

I don't defend any state’s English as I am sure that there's nothing called ‘Malayalam English, Tamil English or Hindi English' in India. Listen to the natives of the land of English. Only then each one will understand what English is and how to speak it. I am going to learn UK English as I am not so happy about my diction. I don't want anyone to laugh at my Manglish and I don't want to learn Inglish as no native speaker will certify it as English. At the end of my venture, when I pronounce words in UK English, people will laugh even more as they will stone me for acting like English.

A non-native speaker, the influence of their mother tongue is allowed but mispronunciation is not. It is great to have a good accent, but it isn't fair to laugh at someone's accent. I challenge those who laugh at me 'Laugh at me if you think that your pronunciation and accent are perfect.' We may think that we are better than others or that we are the best. The fact remains the same: All Indians speak Indian Inglish!!!

Love Never Fails! Love and Serve!

Two schools have made the same impact in my life; one, where I was a student and the other where I work as a teacher. From both these institutions I have learnt basically the One Fact called Love which made me believe that anything done out of the pure intention called Love will be fruitful.

As a child, the best and perhaps the only thing that I enjoyed was the school assembly. The most memorable was the first day assembly where our Headmistress would address us with the same story year after year. It goes like this: The Headmistress asked the girls, what our school motto is. And one girl answered 'Love never dissolves (into nothing)'. The student mistook the Malayalam word Uthirnnu (to shed in the form of powder) as Kuthirnnu (to get soaked or dissolved). Both the words meant 'to disappear into nothing'. She admired the student's answer and she used to tell us the greatness of God's love which will never fail or disappear. I never understood the real meaning of the motto 'Love never faileth', but was sure that it meant everything. I left the school with poor marks but I had marked every good word that my teachers told.

Ms Baker memorial School, started by the English missionaries back in 1820, is named after Ms Baker, who made education possible for girls. The missionaries would go to each house to tell the parents, the necessity of educating girls. My great grandma was one among the six girls who made the first batch. Our building had wooden steps, shutters and flooring and I am sure that none of us can ever forget the sound of the footsteps. The huge pillars round and smooth and the wide steps spoke of the European architecture. Later the school was rebuilt in the same campus. Though my heart broke to see our school building changed into a shopping complex, the school motto and anthem remained unchanged. The hill on which the school was built is called Baker hill and the bus stop, Baker junction and the light green shade of our uniform, Baker green!

Ours was a school without a stick. As they preached Love, they practiced it too. The school survived without any corporal punishment, thanks to the Love that got us disciplined. The most precious lesson, perhaps the only lesson that I learnt and believed was the powerful motto of our school 'Love Never Faileth'. Among the many songs and hymns, the school anthem rings in my ears with its words taken from The Holy Bible.

"Love never faileth

Love that all prevaileth

Saviour Christ O hear me now

And give Thy love to me"

Now I am doing my schooling once again as a teacher, learning everyday from my students. There is a charm about our school which I cannot explain in words. I could never comprehend how an ordinary school in a small town like Salem brings out confident and smart girls who can fly till any height. 

Again, I am convinced of the motto of the school 'Love and Serve'; the words of Blessed Sr. Anne Marie Javouhey. She came from France and started many educational institutions in many impoverished countries. Our school is beautifully named 'Cluny', after the town of Cluny in Eastern France where the Cluny congregation was born. The first batch was started in 1805, with a few girls as a result of Rev Sisters going around and making the parents convinced about the importance of educating girls. 

God has a special plan for each of His creation and I thank Him for taking me through these beautiful routes of Love. I am glad that though I missed academic excellence, I am blessed with a conviction which scales above every height of this world, with the knowledge that God is Love; a Love that never fails; a Love that enables us to serve!

A salute to my brothers called soldiers!

They boarded the train with all their loads

Down the seats they pushed them all

As their dear ones waved them good bye

Both returned to their seats in a sigh

Hairstyle proved their identity

Nation's keepers, country's servants

Destined to leave their kith and kin,

To forgo home for their home country

Bravery, loyalty, their brains filled with

Devotion to Bharat Matha and her children too

With their uniform as a mask to their lives

To kill or be killed, all for the nation's cause

I was coming home after a visit to my parents

Returning to my family that waits in love

Drenched in sweet memories of love and care

I never thought of these simple people around

One of them spread the white jamakkaalam

He stretched himself, without a word

His eyes were swollen, maybe he cried all night

No smile, a blank brave face he wore as a look

A phone call came, from his beloved wife

A chat which broke in sad silence

His last words were too sharp and firm

"This is the life of a soldier..Don't cry"

He gazed at the phone as it ended with a beep

He left her to tears and tried to swallow his pain

There ended the tearful chat of two broken hearts

Silence couldn’t bring an end to their thoughts

She would've wiped her eyes with the edge of her sari

And must’ve taken a breath, to face her life alone

Or would've hugged her kids so close

To draw some solace and hope to move on

He didn't talk a word to his friend

With the white sheet he covered from head to toe

He looked like a corpse clad to be buried

I wondered if he was covering his tears

Late was his lunch, from a big pack he gulped

May be his mom packed it with a heart full of love 

When will he taste another homemade food?

When will he eat with his family again?

Never in my day or night or sleep or work

Have I ever thought about these guardian angels!

Each moment they risk their life for the country

While we kill each other in hatred and vengeance

In my heart a war had already started

Did I take all these people for granted?

The Jawans and Kisans who protect and feed me

Giving all the comforts which no money can buy 

There are very many Indians who know not

That there are soldiers on borders who guard

Ready to fight the enemy without a choice

To save us from swords and gunshots

Brethren, I feel sorry for my ignorance

I feel proud of you and your service

With no one and nothing to protect you

You provide us a place to live in peace

For many, you may be lesser lives made to doom

But you are the greatest, and deserve our respect

"Jai Jawan!" "Jai Kisan!" I'll keep you in my thoughts

My prayers and wishes for your homecoming, safe

As I got down at dusk from the train

He was hidden under the white sheet again

As I entered home to join my family cheers

I knew that I live in the charity of these selfless people

May your parents be blessed for their sacrifice

May your wife be blessed with courage to fight her pain

May your children look at you with respect and love

May God bless you for making our home, a heaven!

Woman is not a word, she makes the world!!!

I go through a kind of feeling

Become conscious of the fact

That I am a woman and not a man

The same question arises, 'so what'?

SMS and mails from males and females

I wonder if it's an award or reward

24 hours to celebrate womanhood

For sustaining human kind, perhaps?

March 8th is a remainder to women

To fight for her rights and defend her kind

To tell the world that women deserve better

Social equality and powerful positions

When we cannot walk in the streets

When sun is shining and day is on

When a man is needed to save us from men

What is left to celebrate today?

I wish we had a Men's day

Where no man will ill-treat a woman

But see them as their feminine gender

A day of freedom from the clutch of fear

I wish to see a Human day 

Without the walls of horror and separation

Without ego or pride or supremacy

Without brutal acts and murders

A human's power isn't in the fist or head

It lies in the heart of each person

A fire which one ought to burn

To spread the light of love and life

Why are we proud to have a day?

Why should we prove what we are?

Can’t we just be who we are?

Can’t we just enjoy what we are?

I won’t wish any of my friends today

As every day of our life ends in victory

Survival as a woman proves our power

Submission of a woman proves our patience

Don’t judge a woman by her frail physique

Don’t mistake her when she sheds her tears

Don’t put her down even if she is helpless

Don’t you see her pushing her cart alone?

Women, the most wonderful and beautiful

A magnificent creation that carries life within

When you abuse and rape and kill her

You kill a mother, a sister, a daughter

A few of you look at us as human beings

Others are blind folded with your ignorance

To speak of a woman, you must love them

She’s power, a treasure, hidden within her

Salute to the women who lives and loves

Blessed are you, if you see her as power

Peace to you, if you give her some space

Happy are we,  if we stand as one human kind.

My joyride in a toy train!

I was in the fourth grade when my school took us for an excursion to Malampuzha. For an innocent, ignorant child everything was a wonder. I couldn't believe that many new things that I saw could be real. I was overjoyed when we reached the playground near the dam. It was the first time that I saw such a big vast area with swing, see- saw, toy train, merry-go-round and a lot of place to run and many things to play with.

The merry-go-round had little wooden horses to sit on, which would go faster and higher as it moves. The guys put me on a horse and I felt that it was not steady. But they told me to hold it tight and not to worry. It started rotating and still I wasn't confident about the horse which was turning to each side. As it caught speed, I lost my balance and was thrown to the ground.

I was a child who'd never show out any pain or any emotions, remained calm with a kerchief tied around my wrist by my teacher. I was almost fainting of pain and when I was a bit better I saw all the other kids happily sitting on a toy train. A train that's so small and yet runs: it was too much for me to believe. I thought they are waiting for me, till I heard my teachers told me that it’s better for me not to go for the ride. Suddenly when the tiny train moved on the little rails, I thought I have come to a magical world, but I could not be the part of that world. It was one of the worst hurt that my heart ever received!

Then I saw all my friends waving at me from the train as it moved and I was hit by the saddest reality that I missed the chance of riding in that magic train. No words, no tears, only I could feel my heart breaking and my head twisting; not because of my broken wrist, but because of my broken dream of riding on that magic train with my friends. But I was silent about everything and no one knew how much my body and heart ached.

We were back at the boarding school and it was after two months that someone noticed that my wrist was twisted a bit. My parents came and took me to the hospital and the X-ray showed that a bone was broken and got stuck to the other. I had to undergo a surgery and bear the irritation of the plaster of Paris and weight of the sling on my neck and the incapacity to use that hand for anything. Still I was silent. After two months, we went back to the hospital to remove the plaster. One guy took a big scissor and inserted it through the plaster. I felt the scissors which pricked me and I told that man apparently drunk, that it will cut my flesh. He laughed at me and told me that he can’t cut it without the scissors touching me; but knew that the scissors have wounded me. Somehow the thick plaster had to be removed and we saw a bleeding one inch wound and the wrinkled skin. The doctor put a few sutures and I bore everything quietly.

As an adult, I did many of the things which I missed doing my childhood; but I didn’t have a way to become a child and the toy train ride would never come true. I used to tell about my biggest loss in all my ages and stages of my life. I hated the merry-go-round and thought of the toy train as a dream that’s never going to happen.

My husband was the person who listened to this story whenever I narrated to others. The narration would bring tears whenever I say ‘the train moved on the rails without taking me and I was watching and when my friends waved me bye!’ Nothing and no one could take me back to my childhood or put me on the toy train!

One day as I was sobbing at the end of the story, my husband asked me; ‘You missed the ride, right?’ Yes’, I said hopelessly. Then he said; ‘you can still take a ride in the toy train at the lakeside?’ So, my husband took two tickets from the counter and I got into the train with my little son and went on the toy train at Lausanne, Switzerland, where we lived those days. I took my seat and I felt like a little girl and both of us waved bye to my husband who didn't want to take a ride, but wanted to see our happiness. The train took us in the streets of Lausanne I was the happiest kid on the train! After the long ride, we got out of the toy train and my heart was healed. Never again I cried when I narrated the story; but I end it with a smile of gratitude to God and my husband.

I understood that day that life is a continuous story and any missed pages can be written again or write something else to make the story going. And if nothing is possible, something else will be written by God through someone, which will complete the story and make it more beautiful than we could ever imagine!

Mile stones of Parathode: To my Grandma Dearest

Who could she be & what would she be?
She comes to the screen of my past
Old were the days and stupid were the rules
Where someone had to sacrifice for someone else to live!

And always the Gen Next got the best
Yet they have not a thing that’s worth to reciprocate
Gone are the days and times where people looked at her moves
Now people come to see her as she can hardly move.

In the past, right or wrong, they had no say in things
They did what was asked, lived as they were supposed to be
Eat or not eat, they served others
Tiredness or laziness weren't heard those days.

Now, as she curls up like a babe in the womb
And fights and shouts as a kid would do
When she can't even understand that she is pretty old
I wonder what her thoughts are and what she desires!

When frustration defeats and loneliness scares her
When she has to listen to the Next Gens' words
Humiliation and helplessness hopelessly hurt her
When none can convince her that she's loved no matter what

A woman of grit, a source of will power
A woman who slept the last and woke up the first
A woman who survived the worst sides of pain
A miracle who revived to life after said dead!

It's not about what she is or what she does now
It's all about what she was and what she has done for us
The tears that flow from her loved ones’ eyes
Are the impressions of love that she has created in us.

Let's pray that she smiles and trusts our love
Though not her body or mind, but her soul be purified
Let the love of Christ touch her soul and make her trust in Him
And let God's will be done as her soul surrenders.

Children and Grand and Great grand children are far
God is near and enough to meet her needs  in the desert
Let no one but Him be her refuge and fortress
As He knows what hurts her and will bring comfort to her!

I’ve heard her stories and seen her work like a busy bee
I’ve tasted not only her food, but more than that, her love
Hers were the fastest feet on the roads
As in her thoughts were nothing but her home and family

‘Industrious’ would be the best adjective I’d choose for her
Multitasking would be the verb that’s apt for her
She’ll be rewarded in Heaven, that’s my best hope
‘Minikutta’ is and will be the fondest word I miss!!

Memoirs of a family reunion - A tribute to our parents

Our most beloved Papa and Mummy, their children and their spouses, who became children of this family, and their grand children, my loving greetings!

We have gathered today to celebrate the meaning of the word 'Family'. Family is a gift and ancestry is a fortune that we have inherited from our parents and grandparents. 

The path which Papa and Mummy chose is unusual and unique. Choosing two paths which are different from each other, never relenting from it, never being afraid of anyone or anything, ignoring the failures and impediments that you encounter, doing what you think is right, with responsibility, without expecting anything in return, are the fundamental values of your life history.  Today’s gathering proves how much it has influenced your two generations.

Assessing love and success cannot be done by keeping them on the two pans of a balance. As gold is separated from its ore undergoing purification processes through water and fire at the goldsmith's crucible, when its colour changes to black, or when its shape becomes unattractive, when changes happen making everyone doubt it, your unrelenting, untiring, trust in your conscience and conviction, makes you move ahead. On the way, God has changed mere mud into pure gold and we have only His Grace to be proud of.

When many people advice, judge, comment, and criticize you, apart from feeling sad and angry for a while, you continue your journey by holding firm to your conviction. Though we cannot imitate you, all of us do acknowledge it completely. You are the revolutionists, who, instead of being a halogen light at home preferred to be a light on the wayside post, insisted that home is not a place where four people stay under one roof and our life is not to be confined to the four walls of the house, emphasised that even after marriage and after having children, we must do our duty and all the good we can towards our parents, siblings, relatives, friends, the poor, to the best of our ability, underlined the fact that education and job are the only tools that can make a man or a woman stand independent on one's own feet and convinced and supported the older generation to educate the girls and boys without differentiation.

As you both are the first-born in your families, you considered your siblings as your own children and even if they fail to remember it now, neither my brother nor I can ever forget it. Besides your parents, you took care of the parents of your son-in-law and daughter-in-law and called them 'Papa' and 'Amma' and you extended your help through your presence and prayers till their death, which we count it as world's greatest wonder. 

Though you could always shine like the blazing sun, you chose to be a burning candle, unnoticed by humans. Instead of a bungalow and a big car, your choice of living in an ordinary house open to everyone, and owning nothing but a Hero bicycle, may seem too weird to many, but to all of us, your children, their spouses and your grandchildren, your way of life has turned out to be an exemplary one, which all of us are inspired to follow. It is your simple way of life which we consider as the biggest gift that we have received from you.

You started your life with nothing when you had the chance to make everything. Though you lived without making anything and preferred to give to the needy, what you possess at the end are not just a few coins, but a few crores.  As you have kept even that to gift to your children and grand children, we don't find anything more precious to give you in return. But we will keep, for our grandchildren to see, the house and land near the stream, the trees that their great grandfather planted, the ornaments that their great grandmother made.  A lot of inspiring stories about you will be treasured, for them to enjoy. Today, what we and our spouses and our children can gift you is, a promise that we will strive to sustain love and will try to follow your path and never will lose our love and life, fighting over wealth or gold.

It is better to love when we all are alive than to cry after anyone’s death. It is better to forgive and be united than falling apart and feeling guilty. The question is not how many times we have fought each other, but how many times we have forgiven each other. By God's Grace we could, we still can and we will always be able to, and that is the biggest blessing that God has given us.

We lived 25 years together because you lived 50 years together. You proved that anyone can be forgiven and be loved. In our problems, instead of pouring oil and destroy whatever remained, you poured water to save us from being destroyed by fire. The patience and calm that you showed in crises surely was the strength that held us together.

Papa who is a lover of fruit trees and vegetables, and Mummy who loves flowering plants and ornamental trees  and two children who love all kinds of plants and trees. What a combo! We have inherited your extreme calmness and extreme anger and we are fortunate to have Xavy and Jaya, the two living and loving saints, who could bear us and hats off to both of them.

Our four children, who grew up in the midst of our scolding and punishments, love us a lot and look up to their Appacha and Ammachi as their hero and heroine. We pray that God will grant all the four of you the spirit of brotherhood and unity.

The sun rises every day, the moon and stars brighten the sky every night. A human life remains as an up-and-down journey from one’s birth to death. God has appointed some chosen ones to hold the ladder and help the people to climb up and to console those who fall down. They neither go up, nor come down. God's blessings protect them. My brother and I are fortunate to be born to such people of God and to have such people as our spouses. I pray to God that our children and all our generations to come must be blessed with the same fortune.

As the Bible says, even if a person has everything, but love, he is nothing. But for us, even if we don't possess anything but love, we have everything. May God help us to be united in love, to fulfil His will, to live experiencing His power! We don’t know who will inherit Heaven or Hell. But our Lord Jesus who told us that ‘The kingdom of Heaven is among you’ and that I am present wherever two or three are gathered in my name’. So we are sure that He is surely present here in our midst.  

Understanding the truth that God is love and love is the only way to Heaven, may we live, sharing the love of God. May God’s love enable us and bless us to tread the path of love together in God’s presence and leave for all our generations to come, an exemplary path which we trod with God.

On the eve of my Birthday, with thanks, Sindhu

My dear readers,

Tomorrow, 7th January is my birthday. I have passed more than half of my total birthdays of my life time. Yet nothing so remarkable happened on my birthdays or the New Year that followed each time. Looking back, I see the route of my journey and all I feel is Gratitude to God and to the people who were appointed by God who have any role in my life. The length of the journey can be calculated easily with numbers, and this is the mathematical answer.

48 years + 12 extra days of 12 leap years 57 months

13140 + 4392 = 17532 Days

17532 x 24 = 420768 hours

420768 x 60 = 25246080 minutes

25246080 x 60 =1514764800 seconds

I was born on a full moon day on 7^th January 1966 and since then the full moon appeared 593 times till now. At this point I am truly confused if I have lived all these years or was waiting for a time to start life.  

I don’t want to dig the past nor plan my future. I just try to understand my part on this planet Earth and find my path. When I stand at the middle of the ladder called life, I wonder if I was climbing upwards from Earth to Heaven or downwards from Heaven to Earth. To grow up is to be humble and to be mature is to be grounded. I feel that my life is settling down finally on some ground than hanging on a scary step of a ladder.

One thing is sure. I thank everyone and everything God sent to make me humble and grounded. And there are people and experiences that I met in my life were the books from which I learnt what life is.

The list is long and each and every one and each and everything in my life have taught me something or the other. Yet there are certain people who gave me an identity in this wide world, Dad, Mom, Brother, Aunt, Uncle, Cousin, Child, Friend….

I thank you all from the depth of my heart and may God bless you for being in my life. I failed to dream and to fulfill it. But wisdom still pushes me to fulfill God’s dreams about me.

Life is not the number of years we breathe. Life is something that even death cannot take away from us. Life never dies. I’m so happy to pass through each year as I believe that best is yet to be. I don’t regret the years that make me old; I am thankful for the wisdom’s call as I get older.

Thank God and thank you for helping me to lessen the burden of life off my shoulders and teach me to walk lighter and to enjoy peace. Taking so many years to realize the worth of life is a lesser crime than denying life. I take a new birth in each birthday and try to be better than the previous one.  

Thanks a lot, everybody, for everything!