Dil to baccha hai ji...

From external bruises to internal inflammations

From knee infections to kid-knee infections.

Life has come a long way. Well not so long but yeah some what mid-way!!

And it has, like everyone else given me lot of sweet-bitter experiences;though I have this feeling, more than any nearing-30 middle/ upper middle-class female. Point is I have grown up but I guess the kid-in-'ney' sorry 'me' has refused to grow up.

Life also is a great teacher. It teaches in its own ways; with all these late night rushes, first intra-veinous incision, first saline, long hours of first CT scan and first-time admission to the hospital, one thing is damn clear, I better be careful if I want my chi… er grand-children getting mar… er having kids. What's wrong in dreaming big!!

Well life and that directly/ indirectly means our body has to be taken seriously. I guess no more waking up late, sleeping late and no more reasons to lead a frivolous life. No more pride in being called the "night-queen" or "nisha-chari". All of these will now be packed in the box of the past. People who called me these would be happier seeing me healthy and that I can bet on.

An old adage heard first time when I was 4 or 5 years old left it's impression on me only 24 years later, that is now.

"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy , wealthy and wise."

Guess everything is not to be questioned. I have been questioning it ever since.

Guess I got my answers right.

Life Savers, Money Makers or “Heart” Breakers

Since 1999 I have been staying away from my parents, first due to my studies, then jobs and finally marriage. Under the protection of my parents I had a comfortable life as most of us do and we aren’t exposed to the evils of the world. Let me not sound pessimistic but I want to frankly highlight the evil realities of a world which I wish and pray none of us have to face; though deep inside I think its a wishful thinking. Instead of beating around the bush, the “heart”less world of doctors is what I am referring to. I don’t know about other cities but in Bhubaneswar, last one month of dealing with doctors have opened my eyes to a set of people who are absolutely heartless. Ironically, I am talking mostly about Cardiologists.

What is our general perception of a doctor especially about the ones who are famous. That you go to them and they will know what they have to do and understand immediately why a patient is in a condition which she is in! They will be humble, reassuring, loving to the patient and also to the relatives. They will be demi Gods to us. They will ensure that they and people under them will be perfectionists. They in all their might would make the patient feel better by involving as many specialist as possible. They will not make money making their sole aim. They will not try to get rid of a patient if the patients problem is not their specialization. They will not try to get rid of the patient and her family. Most importantly they will not have bloated ego of the size of a planet. Also they are not part of dirty politics which our country is suffering from. They will treat all humans alike and with utmost care and respect.

But unfortunately, its not the case. Doctors which I encountered in last one month had none of these qualities. They needed first to understand that we have strong hold in Bhubaneswar and make all important people call from all directions to make them work. Until then they were ready to give up. Until then they were ready to take drastic steps of discharging the patient in a condition where she is not well even in my layman eyes. They could not solve a simple problem of loose motions in 12 days time and let the patient suffer because they had some bloated ego massaging to be done before they could realize that they were doctors.

Finally when the panel of doctors did receive calls from all the direction, courtesy my fathers contacts, they started working. They were ready to give up otherwise. Our frustration level was going to high levels. We couldn’t say them anything and we couldn’t keep quite as well. Saying them would mean leaving our patient completely at the doctor’s ego. Keeping mum would have meant doing absolutely nothing and waiting was life to take its own turn. We couldn’t let that happen. I wonder what these people have studied in so many years. Have they just learnt how to make money. The best of the best cardiologists and gastroenterologist were not able to make the patient comfortable. They were not able to cure the patient and asked us to just wait and watch, advised us to pray and kept there fingers crossed. How MD, DMs, gastro-surgeons, couldn’t figure out what the real problem was. And one fine day the patient herself started recovering and they still couldn’t pin-point what the problem ever was!

The doctors know that the moment they have made a visit to the patient and come out of ICCU, they would be stopped by attendants of patient to know about the condition of the patient. These were the doctors who never bothered to stop to tell the details. We had to run behind them, literally stop him from walking further and ask what is the patient’s situation today and the maximum sentence framing they could do was one sentence consisting of 5-7 words. Is that all that we would like to know after you have asked us to pray to God? Shouldn’t there be professional way of handling patients attendants too! Shouldn’t you be briefing us every 2-3 days when we have stayed there for a month. Don’t we deserve this much in the name of humanity. Any Tom, Dick and Harry becomes a doctor these days without any sense of service, respect for humanity or respect for anyone’s age. My father at 70 with a limp in his leg used to run after these egoistic set of people, half his age, to know how our patient was and I couldn’t do much but just sigh and feel sad; I saw a bigger need of the moment and kept quite.

The most astonishing and pleasing revelation was that the attendants/ sisters/ brothers inside the ICCU were more human and affectionate set of people who really took awesome care of our patient. They literally stood on a leg to be at patient’s service and helped the patient throughout. At-least they tried to bring a smile on patient’s face with their service, talks, care, love and affection. Doctors were just too mechanical. Any patient patient is just a patient and loosing a patient means nothing to them; on the contrary it meant the world to us.

There are many more heart-breaking facts and incidents that happened in the past one month but I would prefer to stop at this.

If at-least one doctor reads this, takes the content positively, works towards improvement of his/ her behavior in general, leaves the craze to be treated as God, and gives only his/ her best shot at work, I would consider myself lucky; as one doctor in his lifetime treats innumerable patients. At-least those set of patients will not be treated the way our patient and we were treated by a panel of well-known doctors.

A few words from me to all the doctors who wanted to become doctors because there was money in this profession and not because you wanted to serve the society; you guys have turned this into a cheap profession. All you guys want to do is earn lot of money, marry another doctor, together mint money, open a nursing home and lead a lavish life style. You guys are meant to serve the society, please do that. If you didn't have the sense of humanity ever in you, you might as well leave this service and open a shop and do business, convert those nursing homes into lodges/ five-star hotels. That would at-least do some good to the society. Otherwise you are doing more harm than benefit. The only benefit you are doing is to your pockets. Please stop it and turn this profession into a noble profession which it originally is meant to be.

On the verge of making a BREAKING NEWS

Two girls, employee of Cognizant fell into a manhole. Cognizant is a well known company in Z-city. It’s a pleasant evening of 1^st June 2009. It’s around 10:00 PM. The girls had fallen around 8:00 PM.The two girls are identified as Lakshmi Seth and Swapnil Arora, a resident of Q-locality. It has been told by sources that Lakshmi Seth is married and Swapnil Arora is unmarried and they stay together.They came to Café Coffee Day in Swapnil’s car to charge their cell phones as there was no electricity at their home. How they fell into the manhole is yet to be known. The rescue team arrived in 1 hour after they fell and the team members are trying hard to pull them up.

Both their parents have been informed and we are trying to establish connection with them. Lakshmi’s husband has been notified too.

Both the girls have shown a lot of courage by not screaming and maintaining their calm. This is the fourth incident in India where someone is trapped inside a manhole.

Experts and the employees of Café Coffee Day say this manhole was covered by a very thin sheet of tin and probably they both stepped on it.

Isn’t this a callous behavior shown on the part of Z-city Municipal Corporation (ZMC)? They open the manholes for their work and forget to close it properly. A representative from ZMC is still to arrive. Meanwhile let’s talk to an employee of CCD, Mr. Avinish Khanna.

TV Correspondent (TV-C): Mr. Khanna, did you see the girls falling?

Avinish Khanna (AK): No, but we heard them falling.

TV-C: So, what did you do?

AK: We rushed immediately to the spot and saw them inside.

TV-C: What did you do next?

AK: I asked one of my colleagues to go and inform our boss as we didn’t have any number where we could contact.

TV-C: So who informed the rescue team?

AK: My boss did.

TV-C: Is he here?

AK: Not yet.

TV-C: Since when has this manhole been like this?

AK: Since almost a year.

TV-C: And no one complained about it?

AK (guilty face): Not that I know of.

TV-C: Well one last question; why didn’t you ever complained about it?

AK (even more guilty now): I never stepped on it and hence didn’t know it was dangerous.

TV-C: Thank you Mr. Khanna.

AK: My pleasure.

So, after exchanging a few questions, with Mr. Avinish Khanna, we found out that even the citizens around have not paid any attention to this.

So who is to be blamed; ZMC, the citizens of Z-city or the two girls who are stuck in a stinky manhole waiting to be rescued.

With cameraman Sunil Joshi, Anjali Kumar, Star News.

BREAKING NEWS: The manhole is in bad condition since 1 year.

BREAKING NEWS: ZMC is responsible.

BREAKING NEWS: Citizens turn a blind eye.

BREAKING NEWS: Rescue team has arrived.

BREAKING NEWS: Two girls in manhole since 2 hours; not rescued yet.

BREAKING NEWS: Rescue team has thrown a thick rope.

BREAKING NEWS: Swapnil will be removed first from the manhole.

BREAKING NEWS: Should Swapnil be removed first or Lakshmi. SMS your views by typing RESCUE [Lakshmi]  or [Swapnil]  to 57876.

Sansanikhej Vardat

BREAKING NEWS: 2 ladkiyan manhole me mili gayee.

BREAKING NEWS: Lakshmi aur Swapnil phone charge karne aaye the.

BREAKING NEWS: Cell phone charge karna mehenga pada.

BREAKING NEWS: Lakshmi ki shaadi ho chuki hai to apne pati se alag kyon hain? (hahahaha)

SMS your views on this by typing Lakshmi [your views] to 57576.

BREAKING NEWS: Lakshmi ke pati Nokia Siemens Network, G-city mein karyarat hain.

BREAKING NEWS: Apke saamne sabse pehle; 2 ladkiyan manhole mein gir gayee hai.

BREAKING NEWS: Do ladkiyon ke muh par kalik put gayee.

BREAKING NEWS: Manhole mein gir kar muh kaala hua.

BREAKING NEWS: Ye vardaat Z-city mein hui hai. Z-city Municipal Corporation ke adyaksh abhi tak vardaat par pahunche nahi hain.

BREAKING NEWS: Dono ladkiyon to jyada chot nahi aaye hai.

BREAKING NEWS: Phone charge karne CCD aaye the. Dono ke phone discharged the. 

BREAKING NEWS: Nokia aur Motorola ke phones hain.

BREAKING NEWS: Battery kis phone ki jyaya reliable hai? SMS BATTERY [NOKIA] or [MOTOROLA]  to 57576.

BREAKING NEWS: Maruti Zen mein aayee thi dono ladkiyan.

BREAKING NEWS: Ladiyon ne manhole se dosti kar li.

BREAKING NEWS: 2 ladkiyan hain. Z-city se seedhe.

BREAKING NEWS: Dono ke gharwaalon ko bata diya gaya hai. Gharwaale aane ke koshish mein.

BREAKING NEWS: Ticket nahi mil pa rahi hai.

BREAKING NEWS: Lakshmi ke Pati ke reactions pata nahi chal paaye hain.

Lakshmi ke pati dukhi honge ya khush. SMS Lakshmi [dukhi] or [khush] to 57476 to send your opinion.

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Sigh! A near miss to fame. We would have made a BREAKING NEWS and would have basked in its glory for I-don’t-know-till-when. But as I stepped on the tin sheet my alert brain (pat-on-the-back) responded and I jumped off and so did Swapnil; she was also on the edge of the manhole.

Had we fallen into the manhole, sigh!

 

 

 

A morning filled with 'Nostalgia"…

I received an unexpected call from Vikram yesterday. I was expecting a movie plan or an expected surprise from Kinshu when Vikram called. When Vikram asked me as what was my plan for tomorrow from 0630 hrs to 0830 hrs, I was still sure that this was something to do with Kinshu. As the conversation concluded I had an invitation to accompany him to NDA to witness his brother’s POP – Passing-Out-Parade and I had agreed without a second thought. Although I was thinking that I would have to get up in the morning unlike other days.

I slept quite late; by 0200 hrs the next morning to wake up at 0500 hrs and I was conniving how should I deny for the plan made. But still I slept to wake up early.Nimisha came at around 0600 hrs and we set for the road to NDA on my newly acquired Maruti 800. With skeptical thought about running this twelve year old car on a highway, I headed toward NDA by one of the best made road on Pune.

This twelve kilometer travel was a bit different. It was a travel to my past, a nineteen year old past when I travelled the similar road for my brother’s POP. I was an 8 year old kid then and today I had very faint memory of what I had experienced then.

Nonetheless, as I was driving through the exclusive road to NDA, the canopy trees reminded me of the bus ride I had on the same road 19 years ago.

With a feeling on amaze, curiosity and a little nervousness, I reached the gates of NDA. Amaze as this was a different India, Curiosity as to what is NDA like after 19 years and Nervousness as to whether I will be able to contain my feelings.

We met Vikram and friends and the very well-mannered and well-toned security guards at the gate – unlike the security guards that we see in the civilian world. Very politely they checked our car and pass and asked us to proceed inside.

This was a different world altogether, clean, calm, picturesque and disciplined.

Clean: As your drive inside the gates of NDA, you have this feeling that why the whole India isn’t so clean. You end up wondering how much effort is required to keep it so clean.

Calm: You only see very few people on the complete landscape of NDA. It’s because less people stay in a large area. But, you again end up wondering why all the places in India aren’t so calm.

Picturesque: Lots of trees and beautifully carved landscapes make it so look so scenic and serene.

Disciplined: Well, discipline is synonymous to NDA. It’s because of discipline that it looked clean, calm and picturesque to an outsider like me.

We were perfectly guided to a place, once again well-planned and well-organized, to park the car. We had to take a walk to the parade ground. The walk was long but not tiring as there was so much to see; especially lot of monkeys. J

As we were approaching the ground, at various intervals, atleast 4 uniform-clad gentlemen directed us very politely to our seat. We found the group there and the parade has just begun.

The parade captain was the topper of the 116^th course and I couldn’t help remembering my brother at the same position 19 years back, commanding the parade. My memories were tainted and I couldn’t recall much but the feeling was nostalgic and emotional too.

Nevertheless, being a sister of a fighter pilot itself has given me the spirit of a fighter. In such situations, I always remember the words of my brother posthumously told by my sister-in-law to me; according to him, “I was the bravest in my family”. I was humbled but recalling these words, I always regain all my strength and courage.  

The parade went on for two hours; started on time and ended dot on time. It was flawless and whole event was the best arrangement I have witnessed in years.

The most rewarding moment of the two hours was when three Jaguars flew over us with deafening blare. It was a thrilling experience and to top it all, we had this experience twice. The timing of both the Jaguar fleet appearance was matched with starting of parade-retreat and end of parade-retreat. 

It's an amazing world of Services where so much importance is give to punctuality, discipline, character, chivalry, integrity, honour and respect for everyone. 

Its because life and death is a matter of seconds for them. Its because a fellow human-being is equally important to them as they are to themselves. Its because they have been re-taught all those values in NDA which we all are taught in our primary schools or building years. The difference is just that they religiously follow what they have been taught in day to day life and we civilians take all these qualities for granted. Its simply because they try their best to live up to NDA motto - Service before Self.

With the second thunder retreating, we rose from our seats. As requested, we gave our respect to the officers in uniform and marched out of the parade ground vicinity only after them.

On our walk back to the parking area, we did click a few snaps to preserve this beautiful, nostalgic, short-lived but fulfilling experience.

As they say a picture is worth a thousand words –so here are some clicks of how wonderful the parade was.

 

 

Faith

As a kid I was always taught that “Faith can move mountains” and I believed in it and lived by it. I had faith in everyone I knew and to such an extent that my father who preached me this became skeptical when I was in my teens; skeptical because he saw me trusting everyone around me so much and he got worried that I would probably get hurt one day.

Well, like any other teenager, I also stepped into adulthood and as everyone else I also finished college and came out to face the world. Strangely, after staying away from my home for almost 10 years now, I have a different expansion for WWW – it's Wild-Wild World.

Nevertheless, I grew older and started facing the world almost alone; facing all the issues, fighting the general convention of almost everyone in the society about females, and the list goes on and on and on. In the process of growing, I started learning my lessons of life. Everyday opened a new chapter, every city that I lived in opened my eyes to a new culture and hence years started passing by and so did my experience with life started growing. Eventually, all these learning became a part of life and I started getting used to it and being an Indian it comes as a heritage too; to adjust to anything and everything.

But one very normal evening, I went for some grocery shopping with not much cash with me. I depended on the plastic money that I had. As I was struggling to park my two-wheeler in not-so-organized parking in front of the departmental store, a boy seemingly aged between 10-12 years came towards me with a paper in front of him. With my experience from the past, I thought him to be a hoax and I asked him to go away. He insisted that I listen to him and informed that he was studying and wanted to submit the school fee which is Rs. 800 – including tuition fees, books, uniforms etc. This little information moved me and I was convinced that this child is not a con. Although I knew I had absolutely no cash, I opened my bag to check once again. But I had just Rs. 25. I showed him this. I was hesitant that I should not give him just Rs. 25 when his need was Rs. 800. He also informed me that he has collected Rs. 300 when I asked him so.

Well, I told him that I will have to go to the ATM to get the money. Although I was saying him so, I still had that hint of mistrust that he is a hoax and probably he is just fooling me. I tried to assure him but I knew I didn’t sound very assuring. Even he asked me repeatedly, “Will you come back?” before I left for the ATM.

On my way towards the ATM, my thoughts were occupied by this incident.

Whether this boy was genuine!

Whether I should return back!

Whether I should give him Rs. 50, Rs. 100, Rs. 200 or the complete amount - Rs. 500!

What if he is a fraud! My money will be wasted.

But it’s ok! It’s my good deed and it’s his bad deed – my religious preaching came into the support of argument.

We tend to spend Rs. 500 without even having a track where we have spent it – I being a spendthrift, so why shouldn’t I give him the whole amount.

OK fine, I will ask him again whether he actually needs the money and if convinced, I will give him the money he needs.

After making up my mind, I reached the place where I had last seen him. As I was parking my vehicle, I was expecting him to approach me from somewhere. But there was no one to be seen. I searched all around the place for next 5-7 minutes but I didn’t find him around. So, I decided to return back home obviously a bit disappointed.

On my way back a different set of thoughts engrossed me.

Why did the child leave!

Obviously, as I didn’t completely trust him, similarly, even he didn’t trust that I would return.

How many people who had promised him to return must have returned!

It’s the absence of faith that’s causing such situations.

What about those childhood teachings given to us that we should always keep our word!

How many of us do that! We all are just living our lives; we have forgotten what is black or white.

And, what about those childhood teachings given to us that “Faith can move mountains”;

Where is the faith!

Thus, I rode silently towards my home.

Slumdog Millionaire .....

I generally do not review any movie but this particular movie did attract me.

Before I had watched this movie, I heard lot of feedback about it; “A must watch”, “Sensational”, “You haven’t seen it yet!!” blah blah… I finally got it in my friend’s laptop and decided to see it.

I had mixed feelings after watching this piece of art. Well, the only praise I think I will give to this “over-hyped” movie is that it’s definitely a directional (only the concept of direction) piece of art. Besides that, they haven’t shown anything different. Especially, what I strongly did not like about it is that they have portrayed India in an obnoxious way; India is not about poverty, slums, cheating, dons and Mumbai is not about all these too. Numerous movies have been made in the recent past on this subject and now this subject seems monotonous. I am strongly against it being showcased internationally. It’s sending wrong image of our country.

When I say directional piece of art, I liked the way two parallel stories have been shown; the “Who wants to be a millionaire concept?” and how Jamal’s story is running in parallel. What was interesting and thought provoking was the realization that many times in our lives - we need not be just well-read to have knowledge of something. Our experiences make us very knowledgeable. Most of our Granny's are not literates but when they speak they enlighten us. They have knowledge of many things in life.

When it comes to “Who wants to be a millionaire?” (Popularly known in real India as “Kaun banega Crorepati?”), I don’t remember either Amitabh Bacchan or Shahrukh Khan ever mocking any contestant who hailed from humble or poor background unlike the host in the movie mocking Jamaal as “Chaiwala” or “Call Center Assistant”.

In real India even the literates and well-educated people prefer speaking in Hindi or their regional language other than obviously formal/ office environments. And we saw slum dwellers speaking in fluent, accented English!! When China and other countries can enter International Film Forum with their national language or any preferred language (with subtitles) why can’t India? Why is India still a slave of the British subconsciously? Why is Indian cinema trying to appease the jury by speaking in their language when we Indians can easily feel that what is being shown is not reality?

At one point in the movie an urchin (Jamal) is thrashed by the driver of American tourist, and Jamal asks the tourist “You wanted to see the real India, this is real India!!”. To that the American tourists give the urchin some good amount of dollars adding that now you’ll see some real America. What was the assistant director (an Indian) doing when such a nasty script was being directed? Is that the real India? That is India but not the real India. Atrocities towards the weak and poor are in all the countries. Is real India the largest “Dhobighaat” in Asia? Aren’t there better things to show in India? There definitely is. I get reminded of a shot in the movie “Munna Bhai MBBS” when “Circuit” scolds a Chinese tourist by saying that “Can you see only poverty in India?” when he says that he wants the picture of poor and famished Indians?”

AR Rehman got Golden Globe award for “Jai Ho…” I am sure even AR Rehman knows that he has composed better and more sensible music in the past. He got an award for this because this movie was produced by an International Production House and had a better international visibility. This number is definitely catchy but it’s not one of those that you can listen again and again unlike AR Rehman’s other creative wonders.

The song was so misplaced; this movie did not require a song. The choreography was utter piece of shit. How can slum guys pull off salsa/ jive steps? A realistic movie does not have a song after the last scene with a crowd dancing with the lead characters. And above all the crowd comprised of local train travelers. Who in Mumbai does this? Who has the time to dance on VT (CST) platform?

All in all, it can be watched once and you like the movie because direction is good, actors especially the kids have done wonderful job, and because there is lot of pathos and revelations about a section of society which is different than ours. It can be watched because it’s a story of hope, a story of realizing that it’s not just by proper education or literacy we can become rich or change our destiny by 180 degrees; we can do by just being aware, by being at the right place at the right time, by having focus, by working hard, by keeping your head at the right place even through adversities and by not going astray. We have many examples of such people in our country and elsewhere who were not educated (in term of having n number of degrees) but made it big in their lives.

Nonetheless, it’s not a movie which should be sent to international platform, appreciated or for that matter even awarded. I do not take pride in the fact that this movie has brought us awards or can bring us more. If we are getting international awards for such movies, we better not. We have seen better movies in the recent past like Wednesday, Mumbai Meri Jaan, Munna Bhai MBBS, Rang De Basanti to name a few.

Well I’ll end my review in “Kaun Banega Crorepati” style. :)
How did Slumdog Millionaire become an international hit?
A. Good Script/ Direction
B. Good Cast
C. Good Song/ Choreography/ Background score
D. Sheer Dumb Luck
I would say D. – Sheer Dumb Luck.

A smile for the unexpected ....

I was waiting nervously for the cameraman, aware that there were eyes scanning me head to toe; for they were curious to know who is the new "Bahu" of Sinha family. In this state of mind I was getting various instructions from behind. To wait or to move towards the podium where we were to have our "Jaimal" ceremony. Someone came and gave me a "Jaimal" in my hand and someone instructed me to walk and I started walking. Today when I look at the photos during this walk, I am amazed why I held the "Jaimal" like that; as if I was ready to bell my cat :). It's just our subconscious mind. I saw so many brides holding it that way so I did the same.

Well, this post is not a detailed description of my wedding; it's about few incidents - good ones - which I can never forget. Once such fond memory is of a moment when I started walking towards the podium. While I nervously started, instructed to walk slowly, I remotely heard a song starting to play too... "Jab se tere Naina .... Mere Naino Se... Laage Re..." I started concentrating on it.. and only on it. I was elated from inside.. The song created the perfect mood for the situation and made those few moments of my walk towards my destiny very memorable until my focus shifted from the song to Sudhanshu....

Later I was told by Sudhanshu that he had instructed the orchestra specially to play this song when I arrive. This small information made those few moments of walk even more special.

Another such exhilarating incident is very recent and I can visualize it every day since I am here in Pune; the last evening in Gurgaon before I came to Pune. Sudhanshu and I had a small scuffle and after that I went to market to finish off a few last moment tasks. Besides completing my work, I bought a Barbeque stand for Sudhanshu since he wanted to buy it for a very long time. I reached home and asked Sudhanshu to guess; he guessed it immediately and I still wonder how he did it. Anyways he was so happy and touched (it showed on his face) and got so excited that he immediately planned to go and get the marinated stuff... and do the barbeque tonight itself. I was happy to see the thrill and excited to execute it. We bought the marinated chicken.

On Jan 2nd 2009, it was extremely cold and we sat in the balcony of our apartment for the Barbeque. Although initially we struggled to light the coal but eventually sat in the comfort of the heat coming from coal and barbequed with lot of fun. We all had one of the loveliest chicken / kabab barbequed. It tasted so nice probably because of so many emotions around it.

Well, I wonder sometimes, why some incidents leave an impact on your conscious and subconscious mind!! It could be probably because of its "unexpected" or "unplanned" nature at a given situation or probably because of the mixture of emotions surrounding it. Nevertheless, they are special and always bring a smile.

When (Sports) Men Cry

It’s painful to see a man cry. As a child, I never saw my father or brother crying; brother obviously had cried in his teenage but hadn’t seen him crying after that. I grew up with the well-spread and well-known notion that men don’t cry, and then one day I saw my father shedding tears over a situation very close to his heart and I couldn’t believe my eyes for a very long time. I saw my pillar losing its strength. Some incidents in our lives made my brother cry uncontrollably one night. I still couldn’t generalize it to Men. Later, I left my home for good and met friends (that includes my husband as well) who were family away from family. We shared and cared for each other and it was then that I found that these male friends of mine were equally sentimental about many a things in their lives and shed tears. It thus sunk in: it’s a myth - Men Don’t Cry although it’s still always painful to see men cry.

Our society has shaped our minds so strongly that anything against it is kind of unbelievable.

Yet again, after loosing to Rafael Nadal in a long four and half hours match yesterday, Roger Federer gave-in to his emotions. I would not say it was unbelievable that he lost. He has lost many a titles this year and every time he played and lost, I could feel the amount of efforts he was putting to win against his opponent. It was like he was trying to gain back his undefeated position, but something was working in his psyche and he wasn’t living up to being Roger Federer. It pained me whenever I saw him loose. It showed in his body language that he knew that if he kept loosing like this, eventually he won’t be able to retain his No. 1 position. And his strive to preserve it failed this year; although this was also the year when he closed to Pete Sampras’ record of 14 Grand Slams. But, yesterday, his dream of winning 14th Grand Slam shattered.

With his amazing performances and records and after being named the best Tennis Player in history, it’s not that he will not have chances in future…

Well, thought provoking point is that sportsmen are the strongest breed of men; they are ones with lot of attitude, style and charisma. But what I have come to realize - that’s their exterior. We tend to forget that internally, they are also humans with emotions and sentiments close to their passion – their sports. We common folks, kind of idolize them because sportsmen of Roger Federer’s caliber seem so perfect in what they are doing and what they are known for.

It was sad to see him fall every time and it was a disheartening to see him dethroned this year. And at moments like yesterday even sportsmen lose their “Sportsman Spirit” and cry like a baby, as if their toy - their trophy is being given away to someone else.

My tryst with the other part of our world

We have been blessed by so many good gifts but still we fail to realize how lucky we are …

How many times in our lives do we realize that we are lucky and we should be happy with whatever little that we have? Not many a times, eh! Why? That’s because we are always taught to look upon at some one who is better than us. We always idolize people in our society who are successful and celebrities in their own area of work. Nothing’s wrong in that, obviously.

Just stop for a moment and think, in the habit of idolizing someone famous and big, aren’t we always wanting more? Aren’t we always dissatisfied with whatever we have?
Again, nothing’s wrong in that.

The job is not good, the salary isn’t taking good care of me, the house is pathetic where I am living, my relatives are bad, my friends bitch behind my back, I don’t have time for exercise, I don’t have time to pursue my dreams, blah, blah, blah. Sounds familiar! Don’t we all complain or hear our friends complaining on all such topics.

But what about a woman, who doesn’t have proper clothes to hide her skin! What will she complain about?

Well, when I was in Hyderabad, some 2 years back in 2005, I used to take the public bus to my office. One day, as usual I was standing at a bus stop, waiting for my bus to arrive. As per my habit, I was casually looking at the people around me. Something really got my notice.

Sitting next to the pole which held the shade of the bus stop, was a middle-aged woman who looked very frail. She was wearing under skirt and a faded blue “kurta” over it. Her hair was cut-short and disheveled. Her cheek-bones were showing and her eyes were popping-out. She had something like a shawl draped around her. Her legs folded with the knees close to her chin and her hands held the legs together. I thought it’s just another beggar and I was true. She was just another beggar.

Buses came and buses went and the crowd around me was thinning.

It was considerably a cold morning and I observed that her clothes were in shreds. She was somehow trying to cover herself, pulling her skirt sometime to cover her legs completely at the same time she was trying to pull the shawl tighter around herself so that she feels warmer. The shawl was not able to cover her completely and I wondered why? I had a closer look and realized that it wasn’t a shawl at all but a political banner made of coarse cotton brought into use as a shawl by this poor woman.

Whenever she saw someone coming to the bus-stop she would somehow drag herself to them and beg. I thought probably she is handicapped. She would drag herself back to her place next to the pole and again try and cover herself to avoid the cold.

I saw around her a bit more and saw a bundle, kept very close to her, which probably was her only asset. All her assets wrapped in a dirty cloth!

Once again, there was a new addition to the passengers waiting at the bus stop. This time she was trying hard to stand. She wasn’t handicapped then! Mustering all her strength and taking the support of the pillar, she finally was able to stand. Somehow, she lamed to her new expected sponsor. And again she walked back to the same place.

She wasn’t handicapped. She was too frail, too weak, too unfed, and her only dream was to get enough money to get some food, to get some clothes, to get some secured place to stay.

She got back to her place and kept the little change in a side pocket hanging in her skirt. As she was again trying to cover her from the chill in the air, I really couldn’t avoid tears trickling down my cheek, in public. Unknowingly I put my hand in my purse and whatever cash that I could grab in my hand, I gave it to her.

What happened to her family! Where are her kids? Have they driven her out! Where is her husband? Is he dead or abandoned her! Or didn’t she ever marry? Then where are her parents, her siblings? Why is she here, fighting to survive? Is she suffering from some disease? Being a woman, she might have been physically abused as well. I hope not!

What’s wrong? Why is she being punished? Why does she have to live such a life? Why can't she have two full meals in a day, when we the so-called better placed people throw food without giving a second thought! What did her bundle of assets contain? Some of the memories of her past, some clothes probably! That was all with her to protect and call her own. Just a small bundle!

From that day on, whenever I was at bus stand, I used to look for her and I had promised myself, everyday, I would put my hand in my purse and whatever money would come into my hand would be hers’. I started believing, let it be her luck and if someday, I felt that the money was too less to offer to her, I would deliberately add some more to it.

One day while lying on my bed I was contemplating …

Why I didn’t find this woman before few weeks! Where was she before she came to this bus stop! Oh! This bus stop was very close to a temple which served free food to the poor people. That is why she was here.

A few months passed by. Now she had started recognizing me very well. The moment I would reach the bus-stop, she would see me (Did I see a glint in her eye, when she saw me?) and try to get up and come to me. I would walk to her directly and do what I was to do.

As days passed by, I got used to her presence at the bus-stop. The first thing I looked for at the bus-stop was her until one day when I didn’t find her there. I waited for her until my bus came. Probably she has gone somewhere. But I was worried. Next day as well, she wasn’t there. Is she alright! Where is she?

Days passed by and then months… I never saw her after that. I really dont know what happened to her. And I didn't want to think and believe the worst. I even considered going to the temple to find out about her. But what would I have told those temple boarders! I didnt even knew her name. Just knew her... I still can envision her, her sad face, her sullen look. She looked so pitiable. I wish I could make a difference to at least her life. But...

I am not trying to convey that we at our social stature should not think big or dream big or for that matter even crave for things which we want. But nonetheless, we should spare some thoughts to the underprivileged who aren’t as lucky as we are; whose only aspiration in life is to have two full meals in a day.

[Friends, I haven’t told this story to anyone except my mom and Bhavya, my roomie then. As far as I remember, even they are not aware that I gave money to this woman. I have just included this detail here so that it gives some inspiration to everyone and especially to me once again. I really don’t want this to look like a self-praise write-up. These are just series of events that happened during those few months when the woman was a part of my wait at the bus-stand]

An Ordeal towards Home - I

The journey back home can sometimes be so painful and yet so adventurous. I realized this when I was going home, Bhubaneswar, in October 2006. This time my perseverance was being tried to its level best.

16th October 2006
It all started three days before my date of journey. I had somehow managed to get my reservations done on 20th October 2006 on East Coast Express from Hyderabad to Bhubaneswar. This required that I start from Bangalore towards Hyderabad on 19th October 2006. I was very comfortable traveling by a Volvo, overnight. Moreover I was very confident of getting the tickets of 19th October even if I buy it on 18th. It had happened so many times in the past. Incidentally, I was just crossing the outlet of my travel agent so I decided let me get the tickets done today itself. But to my utter surprise, the agent informed me that no tickets were available from Bangalore to Hyderabad through any private or government travel agency from 18th October till 20th October. I was zapped. How will I catch my train from Hyderabad!

I rushed back home and started checking out for options. After spending 2 hours over the internet with sites of flights and trains, I got a "Tatkal" ticket done for 18th October from Hyderabad to Bhubaneswar. After getting this ticket done, I went and got the bus ticket for 17th October, 9:00 PM; scared that I might loose even this. I then called up my lead explaining him the situation and why I have to leave two days prior to my start of vacation. Now, almost after three hours everything looked absolutely in place.

17th October 2006
My bus was at 9:00 PM and I was to board it just 200mts away from my home in Bangalore. When I reached office in the morning, I saw a meeting request in my mailbox from our US counterparts from 6:30 - 7:30 pm.

If I leave office at 7:30 PM I would be just in time to catch the bus.

I discussed this with my lead and he agreed that I should leave in middle of the meeting at 7:00 PM and catch our scheduled office shuttle at 7:15 PM. This seemed pretty fine.

4:00 PM: My mom called me to inform that Airport Road, where I stay in Bangalore was in National news. A local Volvo had rummaged into foot-path walkers and had killed two. So, mom asked me to be careful as there were riots going on Airport Road.

6:00 PM: By this time, I had found out from various sources that the situation at Airport Road had worsened. I was in a dilemma and had almost decided that I wouldn't attend the meeting and leave immediately. Just then we received the cancelled meeting request. Pleased, I left my cubicle without further ado wishing everyone “Happy Deepawali”; not knowing what was awaiting me.

6:05 PM: I was standing in front of my office, waiting for a Volvo to arrive. I stopped a few autos in the meantime to ask if they would take me to Airport Road. Those who have stayed in Bangalore will know about the "goodwill" of the "autowalas" here. Well, avoiding further sarcasm, none of them agreed to take me by "meter". And I am very stubborn about this. I have never hired an auto without putting its meter to use. I let all of them go one by one. Tension was building fast in me…

If I don't reach home in time, if I miss my bus, how fast can I finish the remaining packing, which other items needed to be stuffed in my bag!

While I was lost in my thoughts, I missed noticing that a lady from my office had walked to stand next to me. My contemplation was broken when I heard her talking to an "autowala" in "Kannada". She eventually boarded and I stopped this auto just in time to ask where they were going and if I can join them. They were going to Indiranagar, a place close to Airport Road. In split of a second, I made up my mind that if I join "The Lady", I can take another auto from Indiranagar.

I embarked into the auto.

"Uff! Finally!"

The auto was moving at a slow pace so left with no choice I started conversing with "The Lady". For an hour, we moved at a snail's pace. I did a quick thinking and with some calculations came to the conclusion that in no way I will be able reach home by 9:00 PM. I immediately dialed my fiancé and asked him to check for any flights from Bangalore to Hyderabad. He checked and declared that no flights were available. Shit! I questioned will I be able to go home!

To affirm with my thoughts, the situation had turned such that we reached at a point where the traffic got sluggish completely. It seemed as if the world has come to an end; all engines had stopped, nothing seemed to be moving.

7:30 PM: Next I made a call to the travel agent from whom I had booked bus tickets from Bangalore to Hyderabad.

Me: Hello Sir, what time will my Bus to Hyderabad leave?
Travel Agent (TA): 9:00 PM ma'am.
Me: Is there no chance of it getting delayed?
TA: No ma'am.
Me: Have buses started plying through Airport Road now?
TA: No ma'am. You will have to go to Indiranagar bus stop and board the bus from there.

Oh shit!! Another blow! Now I will have to get down of this auto at Indiranagar, take another auto to Airport Road, pack my bags and come back to Indiranagar and the time now was somewhere around 7:40 PM. All this has to be done in 1 hour and 20 minutes. Merlin Beard!! I am surely going to miss the bus. But what-ever happens I will try till I make it.

TA: Hello, hello!!
Me: Oh Sorry!! Can you ask the bus to wait for half an hour? I am stuck in traffic near KR Puram, and you know the situation today!!
TA: Yes ma'am, I will inform, but please try to there by 9:30 PM.
Me: (Making a mental note of time and grinning) Thanks a lot, sir.

The condition of traffic was still the same which I tolerated for another fifteen minutes patiently… And then I saw people getting down their vehicles to walk. “The Lady” and I looked at each other and decided, let’s walk. We got down, paid the "autowala", and moved on. It looked like an adventure to me now. I love walking and although I was in such a pressing situation, I started enjoying. I really didn't know from where I was getting a lot of sanguinity. I decided, let me take pleasure in this; even if I miss the bus, now let me enjoy the struggle. I was walking swiftly but having fun.

Thank the moment in the morning when I decided to wear jeans and shoes.

"The Lady" with me was struggling to walk as she was wearing high heels and the side road was full of pebbles.

I kept holding her hand every now and then, supporting her whenever she was about to fall. It may sound odd but it seemed like a pleasure walk rather than a rush to catch a bus.
We must have walked for around 30-35 minutes now and had reached a place, where I had never been. Here the traffic was moving. So we stopped for a while to look around if there were any "autos". "Oh yes there is one", I exclaimed!!

We walked towards it and swoosh. Before I could start talking to "autowala", a "lady with a kid" got into the auto and sat down. How rude!! How ill-mannered!! When will people have some regards for others!! As the "lady with a kid" was speaking to "autowala" and hired it for her ride, I figured out from her conversations that she was going to Indiranagar. I spoke to "autowala" and requested the "lady with a kid" can "The Lady" and I join her, and share her fare. She readily agreed.

Who would not until I look like a terrorist which is a faint possibility!! Well, well!! It's done.

8:30 PM: We got into the auto. I was still enjoying myself. The anxiety of missing my bus in half-an-hour (no one hour, considering the grace I was given by the travel agent) had vanished.

8:42 PM: The "lady with a kid" got down from the auto, settling her part of fare. I asked the "autowala" if he was ready to go further ahead to Airport Road with me after dropping "The Lady" at Indiranagar. He surprisingly agreed. I put across to him, that I have a bus to catch in twenty minutes and in these twenty minutes I have to go to Airport Road and come back to Indiranagar Bus Stop (the location of which I wasn't aware of). He agreed to this also.

Bless him!!

I again told him that we had only twenty minutes time for all this. He said, "Don't worry ma'am, you'll not miss your bus."

Wow!! I was delighted!! Was he God-sent? Again a conflict in my mind!! Well, that's just a figure of speech. There is no God, Gudia!!

So after dropping "The Lady", at some location in Indiranagar, we sped off. I was very light-headed and I was surprised at this.

I am supposed to be nervous and panicky. But why!! Things are moving well till now, well not so well! (Grin) But it's ok!! What is the max that's going to happen! I'll loose five fun-filled days at home and some money. No problem, I will start my journey for home on Saturday instead of today. It's ok! It happens sometimes, that's how we know that life isn't always a cake-walk.

Ma'am, should I take a right?
Ya, take a U-turn and then a left.

8:55 PM: I was running late.
But the travel agent had assured that the bus would start at 9:30 PM.
I still had some time. I made a quick call to the travel agent to re-confirm and he confirmed.

8:57 PM: I reached home, asked the "autowala" to wait, mentally blessing him once again. Then rushed four floors upstairs, panting hard and opened the door. I did a quick packing of the remaining stuff, collected all the perishable items from fridge and kitchen and rang the bell of my neighbor. I was still wheezing hard. But I had to be fast. My glib neighbor came out and was about to start which I guessed would be start of a lengthy conversation and I cut her short. While bringing my luggage out and locking my doors, I told her that I am going home and these things she can use.

"I will explain the whole story when I come back" when she asked why I was in such a hurry. "Happy Deepawali", I screamed while rushing down the steps with my two bags.

Hell!! When will I learn to travel light!!

9:06 PM: I was loading my bags into the auto with the help of the "autowala". This was surprising. I have never received a helping hand from "autowalas" in Bangalore.

Bless him with all happiness!!

"Let's go, Indiranagar."

We need to stop at the travel agent, which is close-by to ask him the exact directions to the bus-stop.

200mts and I asked the "autowala" to stop. Since I couldn't leave my luggage in the auto under the surveillance of "autowala", I requested him to go to the travel agent with my ticket and understand the directions. He agreed easily. Another surprise!!

I waited for two minutes and he was back. He said don't worry ma'am, I know the place. I said, “thank you”.

We invaded through the notorious Airport Road traffic and finally after fifteen minutes we reached a place full of travel agents and buses. "Autowala" said, "ma'am this is the place."

If this is not the place, then hiring another auto would be difficult. It is almost 9:30 PM. I can't afford to be left at a wrong place. I should ask him to go and confirm with the travel agent outlets.

"Can you can take my ticket once again and find out where exactly should I be waiting?"

I guess I was asking too much of him now, as he looked a bit hesitant this time. Nevertheless, he said, ok!

"I am sorry! I am asking you to do so much. But I cannot leave my luggage here and go! ", I spoke my mind.

"No problem, ma'am. I know you are in trouble and it is my duty to help a woman in trouble", he replied.

What!! Did I hear the right words; an "autowala" from Bangalore uttering such words. Un-believable!!

"Thank-you, you are the first "autowala", who has behaved in this way. Bless you and your family", I conveyed my sincere gratitude.

He went and found out, that we are at the right place and I should be waiting across the road. I was about to get down from the auto with my luggage when he asked me to remain seated; he would take me across the road on auto. I was so thankful that I got such a conscientious person today.

I handed over a note of hundred rupees to my savior, and asked him to keep it without returning any change back to me. Finally, I got down and breathed a sigh of relief.

[Reader's of this write-up: Like me please do not breathe a sigh of relief. I know it was a lengthy write-up on my experience and of-course my friends out there must be relieved that finally my ordeal had come to an end. But dear pals, please realize, I haven't reached Bhubaneswar yet, I have just reached a point where I have to start my journey. :)
More to come, very soon]

A hand from no where....

"I believe that if life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. And try to find somebody whose life gives them vodka, and have a party."

Who would believe that one day I saw a dark path, and saw no light at the end of it. But unexpected can happen anytime when it comes to a journey called life.

I was struck by a thunderbolt a few months back. I stood at the center of a dark globe where a step in any direction would drop me into the unknown vastness. I knew no way to trod. I was so confused. I was so shattered.

It was then that a hand rested on my shoulder to comfort me, to show me direction in life, to show me light at the other side of path, to show me stars around the globe. All the concern shown was unasked for. It was the vodka which was trying to mix with lemons to make a controlled and leveled party.

All the above lines talks about an incident that shattered me completely, which made me loose all confidence in me, life and everyone around. And then came an angel in my life. He knew how to get me out of my trauma and did his best, sometimes even going out of his way to make me comfortable.

What do I say about such an angel. That I knew him as one of my dearest friends. That he stood by me when I was falling down. That he helped me back on my feet when I was crippled. And in return he didn’t expect anything at all!

What do I say about such a soul. That it cried with me when I cried. That it would do anything just to make me smile. That it was in agony because I had forgotten to smile.

I am grateful to you Tutu for what you have done to remove the thorns from my path; when most of them had left me in distress, left me alone. I adore you for everything. You are the vodka to the lemons in my life. Cheers!!

I miss you Bhaiya

Time flies away and you don’t even realize. And then one day when we sit and think about an incident that completely shattered us at one point of time, we again hear that clink and clank of broken heart. Its been six years now; to be precise, six years two months and fourteen days. I have just received a mail from a colleague about yet another very talented Fighter Pilot of Indian Air force being buried in the flying coffin. And I lived all those moments of pain once again. Chills ran through me when I read a brother writing how the news of his brave, patriot brother’s killing (pun intended) was broken to him and how his cynicism to move on with life evolved.

Life does go on. It doesn’t stop when someone so close as a BigB dies. I would not bother to use subtle, soft words for death. We just miss them in every phase of our life. Since the day my dear brother has left us for a place which suits him more than lesser mortals like us, I miss him a lot in all my achievements, all my failures, all my happy moments and all my sad ones too. Infact I imagine how proud he must have been of his baby sister. I miss his reactions to everything that I do.

I remember I had cried uncontrollably when after he was gone for ten days, and I realized that I wanted to gift him a CD of NFS2. He was very fond of car-racing games and I had got hold of this CD from a friend. But I could never give it to him as he left us before my semester ended.

I missed him when Babu was born. I wanted him to play with Babu, start of our next generation. He would have brought toy aeroplanes for him, toy cars for him and beautiful story books as well. I miss to see him in a role of Tauji.

I remember when I graduated and told my family that I have my degree in my hand, I wanted to make a call to Barmer as well. But I knew I won’t hear a familiar voice on that number ever in my life.

When I got through Satyam’s interview process, I fooled my whole family by saying that I failed. I wanted to do the same with Bade Bhaiya.

When mom was undergoing operation in Dec 2003, I wanted him to be beside papa for support because Raju Bhaiya had a job which restricted him to be in India at any time and Bade Bhaiya always substituted him.

When I had to take important decisions in life, I wanted encouraging words; I missed his encouraging words a lot.

When new mobiles were launched I missed his craze to buy these mobiles. When laptop prices went down, I missed gifting him with one. When IPOD came to India, I missed talking to him what IPODS were. When PS1 – PS3 were launched, when XBOX was launched, I felt like buying it and gifting it to Bhaiya. He would have been so thrilled observing the technology advancement.

I missed him when Binda was born. He would have played with her endlessly. He would have brought gifts/ Barbie dolls for her. He would have made clothes for her Barbie doll in a similar way he made embroidered clothes for my Barbie dolls.

I miss him when I buy gifts for everyone in my family. I miss him when I call Raju Bhaiya. I would have made a second call to Manish Bhaiya as well.

When I left Satyam and joined SAP, I missed calling him up and telling the hike that I got. I heard Raju bhaiya's reaction but I wanted to hear the thrill in Manish bhaiya's voice too.

I missed him when we went for Assam trip; it was always Manish bhaiya who accompanied us to such trips. And this was the first time when Manish Bhaiya was not with us.

I miss him when my marriage is being discussed at home. He would have been so happy. He would have spoken to Sudhanshu and would have been so excited.

I can recall the way he greeted me when he called up… “Hi Gudia” with freshness in voice and lots of excitement behind it.

I remember the way we fought over small things like chocolates, pens, mangoes. I miss every bit of him and will miss him for my entire life.

I just wish that he had not taken a decision to save the plane. I wish he had ejected out of the plane, not worrying about the cost behind a bloody Mig-21 air-craft. I respect his last decision but what do I do. I just miss him a lot.

I have no answers when Babu asks about his Tauji. Babu wouldn’t have asked us again and again, where did his “Tauji” go!!! And Babu would not have scolded Papa for allowing Bhaiya to join Air-Force. Babu would not have scolded mummy for being so strong. Babu would not have blamed them for not loving their eldest son enough to send him to Indian Air-force.

And how will we answer when Binda grows up too and asks about the whereabouts of her “Tauji”.

But yes, until the 31 years of his life came to an abrupt end, he enjoyed every moment. He enjoyed the best luxuries of his times and he did all that he ever wanted. Just that I wish that he would have enjoyed more… much more ….

One last poem which I found in his folder in our computer, long after he had left us …. I guess this is what inspired him to “LIVE LIFE KING SIZE”.

SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids

On a merry-go-round?

Or listened to the rain

Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?

Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?

You'd better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

Do you run through each day

On the fly?

When you ask "How are you?"

Do you hear the reply?

When the day is done

Do you lie in your bed

With the next hundred chores

Running through your head?

You'd better slow down

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

Ever told your child,

We'll do it tomorrow?

And in your haste,

Not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch,

Let a good friendship die

Cause you never had time

To call and say "Hi"?

You'd better slow down.

Don't dance so fast.

Time is short.

The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere

You miss half the fun of getting there.

When you worry and hurry through your day,

It is like an unopened gift....

Thrown away.

Life is not a race.

Do take it slower

Hear the music

Before the song is over.

A Love Story

She came to our house as tiny whiny scared little white bundle. She was beautiful and adorable. My family immediately got fond of her. My papa christened her as Mini. Mini the sweet little baby became a part of our family.

Mini started growing in our family and became a darling. She started making friends around the colony. All uncles and aunties around the place loved to take her on a walk in the evenings. Kids loved to play with her. And she made a great friend with Sheru who visited our house very regularly.

Sheru was very cute looking and handsome. And there didn't seem to be any harm to allow the friendship between Sheru and Mini.

As adolosence dawned on Mini, so did the friendship between Mini and Sheru deepened. They never drove each other ever unlike the way Mini drove any dog, cattle that passed our abode.

Then one fine day when Mini was one and half years old and the love season was on, Sheru was wooing Mini and in their own language Sheru proposed Mini and she accepted him. But something else was destined for them.

My family didn't approve of their love affair. And they drove Sheru away one day. Mini must be disheartened but she respected her family's decision.

And how did I come to know!!! Well last time when I had been home, I was told about her and Sheru's affair by Mom. And one pleasant evening, when I was strolling Mini around, and controlling her against shouting at passing dogs and cattle, I was surprised to notice something. Mini didn’t shout at a particular dog who was humbly looking at her and she indifferently crossed him. He was none other than her love Sheru.

I walked back home lost and sad thinking about their unfinished "love story".