Happiness and the Postman

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Yes, be happy. Absolutely

Happiness means different things at different stages in life.
I had just got engaged - it was the Neanderthal era - no phones, no internet, no social media. We just had the humble landline. There too, in that age, trunk calls would take ages to mature. So whenever the phone rang, everyone would make a beeline for it. Flying was too expensive as we just had the monopolistic government run apologies for airlines at that time. So it was the poor, laggardly letter - which again took its own sweet time to reach - written on beautiful art paper through which we could express our emotions. It was a frail, though tenuous lifeline to connect with your fiance. There was no tension because we knew nobody could beat the laid back speed of the postal services - again a government run monopoly that had never heard of courier services or even 'SpeedPost'.
I would wait most patiently.... the letters would come irregularly. Sometimes one would be delivered by the cycle mounted postman, sometimes four would be bunched together. on a lean week, nothing would come for over seven days.
I would walk to the post box in the gate of our house first thing in the morning. The postman of course would chuck the letter when it came in the most indifferent and haphazard manner. Sometimes the letter would fall in the box, sometimes it would have slipped out and fallen in the drive, or perhaps been blown about heartlessly by the strong summer 'loo'.
I would approach the letter box with hope, expectation and also a feeling of anticipatory despair. To paraphrase someone (forgive me for forgetting who it was), 'It's the hope I cannot handle. Despair I can.'
The happiness which the letter gave me over the ten months of our courtship was unparalleled. Unrivalled. No technological advancement - email, SMS, WhatsApp, you name it - nothing can ever come anywhere close to that gift of joy that the plain old letter gave me.
Again, after lunch, I would be ready and bathed and dressed and ready and at my station, sitting on a small stool, casually looking out through a chink in the curtains in my bedroom and look out for the afternoon post. What a sight it would be - the khaki clad postman with his peaked cap, riding his wonky bicycle and the dilapidated bell on the handlebar. It was the most priceless gift a loving heart could ever ask for.
So yes, happiness and joy that came to me at that time cannot be replicated by technological advancements. That happiness and the smile that the letters and of course the postman brought to my face still flood my memories with sunshine.
I remember Wordsworth: '...And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils'

A Memorable Tenth Anniversary

Housing and Shelter as Housing.com conveys to us, is so important in our lives. It gives us a livelihood and a roof. I had started "White Sands School" from my house and today was the tenth anniversary of the school.
All my 'original' students from the first batch had promised to come to wish me. Today I would be reuniting with them. I remembered them all:
'Smiley' a German boy who had started walking the moment he had stepped inside our 'studio' school; the twins 'Bobee' and 'Beebo' whose affection and love tugged at my heart for years after they had left the school; and 'Deepa' who would cry endlessly after she was dropped in the school by her mother, till one day, in a dramatic gesture she opened up her arms and told me, 'I love you so much mommy'; and of course the French girl 'Lara' who insisted on sitting in my lap throughout.
I was very excited and also nervous and apprehensive, as you might guess. It was Sunday, and promptly at ten, the bell rang. The twins were standing outside. I couldn't recognise them at first - how they had changed. Then I saw their mother and could place them. In a little while the others joined - Smiley, Lara, Deepa. These were the little ones who had filled my life up when my own children had grown up and developed their own friends and hobbies. These were the tiny tots who had been my companions, filling my morning hours with joy and fun. All the memories came back - how they would clutch my hand, how they would cling to my kurta, or sit primly in their tiny yellow and red wooden chairs.
Over chips and squash and pakoras and toffees they told me how they were doing. SMiley was shy and reserved, but he had grown so tall for his age. The twins kept hugging me and showed the same love and affection as they gurgled away merrily. Deepa wouldn't let go of my chunni and she kept telling me about her younger, baby sister. The girl who came from a lower middle class background now spoke fluent English, and her mother kept thanking me for the grounding I had given to Deepa. Oh it was such fun meeting my children!
It was one of the happiest days in my life. I reconnected, re-bonded and literally restarted my life after meeting them.
Later on it struck me that the hours I had given to my school had resulted in the children getting a good foundation in life. I felt the years I had spent in "White Sands" had been years spent well. I would continue with my school and I would have lived my life well.
And I can look at the coming years with optimism and hope. Thanks to the tenth anniversary - it rejuvenated me.

Optimism and Hope - Children!

I love small children. Between two and five years is the age that fascinates me - because then they have not been touched by the sophistication and the so called refinements of society. The world has not polluted their wide eyed wonder and they still retain the fresh and clean innocence that they have been blessed with by God. Their joy at being given a present exceeds the joy promised by visions of Nirvana shown by hundreds of gurus. The sorrow these children express when the mother goes away is heartrending. and when they shrivel up at being scolded, or when they fold up and withdraw on a harsh touch is something that I can't bear to witness. And on the other extreme is the abandon with which they run to you when you give them the tiniest morsel of love.
And so in my middle years, to enlarge my mental and emotional horizon - especially the emotional horizon - which had shrunk in size and capacity over the years of looking after work and money and house and husband, I invited a small group of children of this age group - two to five - from the neighboring slums and took them to the nearby municipality park. I thought they would be quiet and shy and subservient perhaps, diffident and may not open up. But I was in for a surprise to say the least. The youngest - Alok - was a two year old with a cold. He came snivelling and had brought a tiny handkerchief to wipe his tiny nose. He walked around with a sparkle in his eye. The three year old - Khuhi - bowled me over with her braided hair and well cut nails. She didn't know the meaning of Khushi - her name. But she immediately caught on when we dramatised what 'Khushi' meant by running in the park, playing a game of 'catch' and then telling stories and - most importantly - when she got a packet of biscuits from me as a prize for her story telling skills.
And so this meet up group of ours which originated from my need to expand my emotional self - and which has generated so much positive feelings in me - has become my pillar of strength. It gives me so many happy thoughts when I sit alone in my balcony or when I am in the kitchen finishing my cooking.When - inspite of getting so much from God - I feel down and out, this group of children become my reservoir of optimism and draw me out and help me cope with my problems.
The imponderables are rent apart by the young ones clutching my hand as they insist on making me play one more game, run one more race, sing one more song, tell one more story. And I sit down laughing away all grave thoughts. Physically they may live in slums but I am sure one day they will get the best of the houses we see in Housing.com where hopefully they will live in an atmosphere of joy, sunshine and pure unalloyed fun

Start A New Life

I was at the peak of my career and in a most comfortable position in life - children just about settling into the orbits of their choice; and hubby and me with a comfortable bank balance to maintain a decent if not luxurious lifestyle. We were at a point in life where after a lot of struggle to settle the children and ourselves, we had the opportunity to fill our coffers to our hearts' content for the first time. I was in a high paying job and at the top of the organisation i.e with practically no boss above me. I had carved a niche in the company where no one could touch me. After so much experience, the job ran itself. My spouse was also happy, content and supportive.
But I longed for one thing - freedom to do what I had been wanting to do for years, but never dared to do. I wanted to drink from the lake of creativity which I was sure lay inside me. But throwing away a secure, well paid job was blasphemy. I did not dare to even to talk to my spouse lest the slightest resistance crumble my very precarious and fragile desire to break out. Finally I summoned all my reserves and all my courage and put in my papers - after taking into confidence all my family members.
It was the boldest step I had taken in my entire life. For what? An unknown future. For an opportunity to explore the world outside as well as inside - to hitch my wagon to the star which had been tantalising me for such a long time.
We shifted cities after giving up my company given accomodation. That's where support from sites like Housing.com support makes a big difference to people. See the video embedded above.
So we moved from the financial capital to the political capital. From a fancy luxurious apartment to a functional though comfortable flat. It was a big change and that needed tremendous adjustment from both of us. but more importantly I moved away from the barriers of time, space, office deadlines, target driven performance, Powerpoint presentations, worksheets etc. to a life of writing, music, travel, family and culture. Oh good it was to sing the songs I liked to sing. And I realised that there would be no shore to drift towards - that the sea of mental enlightenment was endless. I now realize that our potential is limitless and it depends entirely on what opportunities we create for ourselves, what risks we can dare to take and what self belief we can generate in ourselves.
I have never taken a more sanguine decision.
As I read somewhere that the more I practiced, the richer I felt. The meaning of life dawned on me - as the Dalai Lama says - 'Man lives as though he he is never going to die; then dies having never really lived.'
Fortunately I think I have lived as I would like to live - thanks to that new start.

The Dew Film: Rise Above Fear!

Do the Dew. That's the advertisement of Mountain Dew.

Fears of the material world – fear of the doctor, a surgery, a dreaded disease, a policeman with search warrants, a new start up, climactic exams deciding destinies of children – are humungous, scary and very relevant.

But my mind transcends these. By genes or environs, I have always been haunted since childhood by the fear of Death. Kaala and Krishna should never be forgotten!!!Ignorance of the unknown is the root of this fear, I know that. Even Brian Weiss’s ‘soulmates’ never return to their near and dear ones to relate what happened to them once they had exited their respective mortal frames.

Fortunately our scriptures address this fear and through Parikshit (grandson of the famed warrior Arjuna) lead us out of this inscrutable maze of Maya.Everybody (i.e. all those who are aware of it) tries to overcome this fear in accordance with their intrinsic nature. Having blessed with the DNA of Action and Love, I have taken refuge in Karma Yoga and Bhakti.

Karma Yoga provides relief from diverse angles. It mandates that I perform the work – everything I do – with full dedication and as an offering to God. Action is necessary and must be performed. The outcome of the action will happen – maybe as I wanted or maybe not as I desired. Whatever happens, the outcome I surrender to the Almighty. This ensures that all activities - from the household chores of cleaning and dusting to cooking and working in the office or running my business - are done impeccably and to the best of my ability. The other great advantage which accrues automatically is once the action is done with the mental attitude of making an offering to God, the result of the action, the outcome, becomes ‘prasad’ received from God.

Karma yoga has delivered me from the fear of medical tests, doctor’s verdicts, exam results, illnesses, job interviews...This gives me equanimity. This is not easy, but developing this attitude has saved me in many harrowing situations. 
Bhakti becomes easier by listening to the Gita discourses and reading the Srimad Bhagwat as well as by listening to Krishna bhajans. Saguna Bhakti is definitely more helpful for me. When asked for a choice between the two, Yashoda anytime preferred to exult in Krishna than the knowledge which would have delivered her from her fears. The gopis spurned the message of Gnyana by Uddhav for the same reasons. Udhav the mighty scholar who could answer the deepest of all queries relating to religious ethics and philosophy was rendered speechless by the depth of emotion of the gopis who had overcome all their fears through the love of Krishna.
Thus, by incorporating the philosophy of Karma Yoga, and by soaking it in love of Bhakti, I am able to rise above my fears and many a times I face my fears bravely. Complete success eludes, but it is victory enough when I feel I have moved from the initial cowering and crawling stage to the present level.

The Power of Voice to Clean India

The well known dhaba market stands behind a now defunct cinema in this upscale South Delhi area. The market is well known for its eateries. It is supposed to be a posh area in the vicinity of a premier hospital, a flourishing club, well known travel consultants, banks and the like.  Outlets of national, leading coffee chains see brisk business here throughout the day. It hosts the young and the well heeled, the educated and the supposedly discriminative segment that is aware of the civic responsibilities. They all come from clean, hygienic homes one believes.

But as to the hygiene and cleanliness of this bustling dhaba market they don’t seem to give any importance. The regulars come to eat tandoori chicken and kababs and tikkas – the speciality items of this eatery filled market. The SUVs and the luxury cars spill out of the parking lot like the entrails of a chicken. The drivers honk and curse each other but cannot see the sense in parking nd taking their cars in and out in an orderly fashion.

The evening crowd and smell can entice – or scare anyone. It reflects the emerging economic upliftment of 21^st century India.

But when we go there for the morning walk, the veil is lifted and we see the stark reality. The poor florist in a pained voice relates to us the daily agony of cleaning the area awash with bones strewn all over by the educated, young crowd. Inspite of dustbins being placed all over. Even the hygiene of the eateries leaves much to be desired. The way the chicken is cleaned during the daytime, s it is got ready for the tandoor; the onions that are sliced by the hundreds but without being washed, the dirty water that goes in the making of the chutney, the dirty chopping boards; the atta kneaded with dirty hands... it is not a surprise that ecoli and food poisoning is a permanent feature of those who partake of this feast every evening.

This is what we need to raise our voice against. I am sure there are food inspectors and hygiene inspectors that are supposed to keep a check on the quality of food and cleanliness in eateries. But where are they? Have they done any inspection? Can we see the inspection reports – why can’t they be put on the net? On what basis do these eateries get a license?

So it is great that Strepsils has started the #AbMontuBolega  campaign. Get to know more about it at the Strepsils site. http://www.abmontubolega.com/ Or go to the Strepsils site on Facebook or Twitter. 

Yes, as the campaign says, let us raise our voices. Let us not be silent spectators. Let’s exercise the power of our voice, our blogs, our community. Then only can India change. Then only India will be a cleaner country. Yes, Have Strepsils and Speak Up.

A Healthy Child Makes A Happy Home

Health and happiness are synonymous – not absolutely but quite!!

My sister’s son was perpetually sick because of bad eating habits. He would gorge on burgers, pastas, pizzas fries and chips. Never eat vegetables and fruit – that seemed to be the motto. Colas were a must with every meal – almost like a bribe to make them eat. 

The result was constipation, low immunity, proneness to cold, cough and the inevitable viral attack with the slightest change of weather. The parents – both working - didn’t have time to sit, bond, entertain or educate their son, and inspite of my pleading with my sister, she would do nothing to change the habits. Just to assuage her guilt at not being around with her son, she would dole out the largest portions of pizzas to him – making the fast food companies richer, and her own child poorer in health.

The frequent falling ill led to her having to take leave from her office, and regular visits to the doctors. Inspite of the family being well off, it was not a Happy Home – mainly because it didn’t have a Healthy Child.

And then the transformation.

Our aunt came down heavily on my sister, and insisted that even though she could not change the habits of the kid, she should insist on giving him his daily dose of Chyawanprash. From her personal experience our aunt knew how Chyawanprash from Dabur increases immunity and makes children less prone to falling sick.

So now the sister of mine started giving one spoon of Chyawanprash to her son with his morning glass of milk. And slowly over a period of time, we could see him falling ill less frequently. Yes he seemed to be getting stronger. No cough, cold sore throat, viral attacks. And the mood in the house underwent a parallel change. A Healthy child is a happier child, less whining, less complaining, less crying. And where you have a happy child what else does a mother need? That indeed is a happy home.

Now the child also saw the correlation between diet and health and slowly he got weaned away from the junk food he was addicted to. From a daily dose, now he is happy with a once a week or once in ten days kind of indulgence at a fast food joint or home delivery. Certainly he is more active, more energetic and more lively.

Thanks to my aunt. Truly if you educate a woman (in this case my sister) you educate the entire family. The future generation too has imbibed the values of healthy nutrition – hopefully!!

Thanks to the daily spoon of Chyawanprash. In such a healthy atmosphere of love and friendship, physical, mental and emotional diseases rarely enter the house. So yes, we should give a little thought and care to the immunity of our young ones – the returns are incalculable. 

How can you measure Health after all? Or Happiness in a family?