Happy is the man (in this case, woman) who has acquired the love of walking for its own sake! - W.J. Holland

I did it! I walked all the way from Indiranagar to Jayanagar shopping complex, which is about 14 Kms. I did this on September 12th, my birthday, reached there with sore feet and thoroughly exhausted and I loved every minute of it.

Regular walkers may pooh-pooh the effort and say it isn’t much, but for someone whose only exercise for years involved just pushing my luck, this felt quite liberating. I must say that the walk lasted for about four hours and I can’t really explain what happened in between, but I felt like a different person at the end of the day. Here is my top five lessons learnt that day:

5) To let go of my regular purse. Now, I am used to carrying a mini home in my bag which has everything from common stuff (money) to the not-so-common (like magnets and no, don’t ask me why). It usually weighs a couple of kilos. Walking that far meant carrying a little excuse of a bag slung across my shoulder. Boy! Did I feel like a part of me has been amputated.

4) To not give in to temptation to stop, come what may and especially when auto drivers were falling over themselves every 10 minutes or so, willing to take me wherever I want. WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY WHEN THEY ARE NEEDED THE MOST?

3) To finally understand what it means when people say the last lap is the toughest in a race. I was sooo tempted to take an auto from 3rd block to 4th block which is like, a blink away. Looking back, its quite a strange feeling that I made it so far, yet found it a struggle to walk about five more minutes.

2) To find out that food tastes so much nicer after a long, long, long, long, walk. I have been eating chaat in Jayanagar complex for years, that day it tasted so much more dee-li-cious.

1) To put your finger on what is the one thing that makes the walk really good…. Some may say good company to walk with, some may say good shoes, some may say to have something to munch along, some may say the path that you take, some may say wear comfortable clothing but in my opinion, its great weather that keeps you going. If the weather had played spoilsport, too hot or if it was raining, I probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it all that much

That day, the weather was gloriously perfect. I mean it when I say, I couldn’t have asked for a better birthday gift!!:)

Radha- Complete the Story.

I was given this assignment when I was doing a course in creative writing. After reading it, you may want to end it differently. Think about it.

Write the opening lines of a story on a topic of your choice. Then write broadly the story line in a few sentences. Thereafter, suggest two possible endings to the story.


Opening lines:

The shrill sound seems to pierce and shatter through the peace and quiet of the morning. Radha woke up with a start. It was her bedside alarm clock giving out a piercing sound. It was still dawn and the sun streamed into her bedroom. Radha shut off the alarm and looked around her room with pleasure. Mama had done it exactly they way she wanted it, her favorite color pink with Barbie doll posters. It looked bright and sunny and cheerful as she felt. She threw off the blanket, went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. She could hear noises downstairs. Her parents were up already and seemed to be having a conversation. Radha who was never an early riser, decided to join them for breakfast. As she goes down the stairs, her bare feet hardly making any noise. She catches her name, Radha mentioned in the conversation. “Maybe they are planning on a surprise” Radha thought. It was her birthday and she was going to be 10 years that day. Curious, Radha eavesdrops on the conversation. Her parents unaware that they are being listened to, continue their conversation. Radha listens in and freezes, shell shocked about what she heard. In a daze… Radha slowly retraces her steps back to her room as quietly as she had come down the stairs…

Broad outline of the story:

Eavesdropping on the conversation, Radha learns from her parents that she is adopted. They had decided to tell her very soon, on her 10th birthday which was the following week. Shell shocked by what she overheard, Radha rushes back to her room, packs whatever she can in a bag and manages to get out of the house. She wanders aimlessly and finds herself at the railway station, her thoughts in a jumble and her feelings and emotional roller coaster. Starved and tired, she befriends some curious urchins on the railway platform who are curious about her. Their leader sathish all of 14 years of age and too wise for his age, takes her with him and the other urchins to a makeshift shack a little off the railway track. She joins the children and soon learns their ways of life. Most do not have parents and once who did abandoned them when they were little. She hears horror stories of alcoholic parents who beat the kids and one boy whose parents even tried to sell him. Radha misses the luxuries of home and her parents, but the feelings of anger and betrayal of having hid the fact that she was adopted was too much for her to bear. She does bitterly wonder what her adoptive parents had wanted to do with her ultimately. She used to watch sathish and others operating from a distance though and this was a routine until one day….

ENDING # 1: Until one day..Radha accompanies the children to the railway platform. Her eyes taking in everyone and everything around her. She sees an old man with a little boy presumably his grandson and a lump forms in her throat. She sees another woman feeding her child. Then she spots a lady, her gait slow, her back turned to Radha. She seemed to be showing something to passers by. Many just shrugged and moved away from her. The man beside her was also stopping people and asking them something. He too seemed to meet with shrugs and shaking of heads. Radha goes closer and realizes with a start that it is her mother. She stood rooted to the spot. Around the same time, her mother turns and catches a glimpse of her. She is equally transfixed, her face looks lined with worry before letting out a wail of recognition and rushes towards Radha. No words were needed. Just mother and daughter embraced. The days of separation seemed to disappear and it seemed like Radha was never away. Radha goes home with her parents, does learn that she was adopted when she was only five months old. Her parents speak to her at length all about adoption and how much they love her more than life itself. Radha is home.

ENDING # 2: Until one day, she spots a lady, her gait slow, her back turned to Radha. She seemed to be showing something to passers by. Many just shrugged and moved away from her. The man beside her was also stopping people and asking them something. He too seemed to meet with shrugs and shaking of heads. Radha goes closer and realizes with a start that it is her parents. She stands rooted to the spot. Around the same time, her mother turns and catches a glimpse of her. She is equally transfixed, her face looks lined with worry before letting out a wail of recognition and rushes towards Radha. Her words are drowned out by the shrill whistle of an approaching train.

Radha wakes up with a start. It was her bedside alarm clock shrilling away like that of a whistle of a train and shattering the morning peace. For Radha however, it was a sound that was most welcome for but slowly realized that she had dreamt it all.

Readers: Give it a shot and try a different ending!

Daddy Long Legs - Book Review

When was the last time you ever sat down and wrote a letter to someone? I meant the paper and pen kind, not the widely used electronic media.

Read Daddy long legs - the title is misleading and has nothing to do with the particular species of spider found worldwide. It’s a lively story about Judy Abbott and her letters, a quaint love story with a lovely surprise ending.

Meet Jerusha “Judy” Abbott, 17 year old living in the John Grier Home for Orphans. She has done well at the local high school and one of the trustees of the orphanage offers to pay for her to go to college. For Judy, it is her first contact with anyone other than the orphanage and she is thrilled but her benefactor who sponsors her education insists on remaining anonymous. His only payment for funding her education is that she write a letter to him regularly to let him know of her progress. The letters are to be addressed as John Smith and will be sent care of the secretary. She is to expect absolutely no reply from him and the correspondence would be one-sided.

Rather tough, one would think, to write personal letters to someone you have absolutely no knowledge about.


An extract:

Dear Daddy-Long-Legs,

You only wanted to hear from me once a month, didn't you? And I've been peppering you with letters every few days! But I've been so excited about all these new adventures that I MUST talk to somebody; and you're the only one I know. Please excuse my exuberance; I’ll settle pretty soon. If my letters bore you, you can always toss them in the wastebasket. I promise not to write till the middle of November.

Yours most loquaciously,
Judy Abbott.

Thus begins a series of correspondence from young Judy who is rarely at a loss for words. Her letters are a delight to read, right from the way she addresses Mr. John Smith to the way she signs off in each letter. Over the years, the letters continue while Judy deals with her lessons and exams, college life and trips, and makes new friends. She meets a lot of exciting people one Mr. Jervis Pendleton and Jimmy Mcbride, both relatives of her roommates who find Judy’s company thoroughly enjoyable.

In an age where letter writing is a long forgotten art, one could get swept away with the language and style of writing but more so by Judy’s personality which reminds me of a rainbow – a colorful set of emotions. She can be funny, strange, sweet, charming all at once.


Then Judy falls in love.

I’ll leave it up to you to read the book to find out with whom. The build up right up to the end of the book, however, can hardly stop you from reading the last page first to find out who she falls in love with. The book is a reader’s delight and an inspiration for all would be writers.

My Bangalore (Sigh!)

This poem was written during one of the numerous power cuts, by torch light. I am no poetess but this poem has less to do with sense of rhyming and more to do with a need to vent (THE LAST PARA SUMS IT ALL!!) and I am sure a lot of people from Bangalore will wish for all that is written below !!

I wish for a Bangalore
That is bright and green
With its air condition-like weather
As it had once been.

I wish for a Bangalore
Where is mind is without fear and the head held high
Free from pollution and traffic woes
Instead of road rages, howls and sighs.
(With due apologies to Tagore for borrowing a line here)

I wish for a Bangalore
Where water freely flows
And never have to pay through my nose for the tankers
And made easily available in every house.

I wish for a Bangalore
With zero power cuts and 24/7 light
And should there ever be a power outage
The authorities will permanently set it right.

I wish for a Bangalore
Where the government is dependable and solid as rock
Instead of one that is designed
To give us the frequent jolts and rude shocks.

I wish for a Bangalore
Where we never have to play the waiting game
For promises to be fulfilled
Instead, only to abuse and to blame.

But most of all, I wish for a Bangalore
That doesn’t inspire poems like these
At 4.a.m. during a power cut
When I would rather be asleep!!!

Who is she?

This write up won the first prize at the Gitanjali “Special Woman in your life contest” organized by Gitanjali Jewelers this year beating more than 50,000 entries.


Who is she?

Once, when I was researching various professions that exist, I got huge list of them all, but not one listed “mom” as a profession. Then I realized, it was probably because she was all those professions rolled into one some time or the other and more which makes it so hard to define how special she is in a few words or lines. In my life she has played the role of:

Father who I lost a child,
A friend, a philosopher, a guide,
A light bulb changer,
A bottle opener (for those really tough bottles that wouldn’t budge),
A band aid for bruised knees and hurt egos,
Fought court cases alone far better than any lawyer,
A tower of strength against injustice meted out against her as a widow in the society,
A value system builder,
Took crucial decisions like a CEO despite not having an solid educational background,
a counselor, a problem solver from getting rid to imaginary monsters of her kids to getting civil work executed at home,
A HR manager for managing to keep good human relations despite all odds,
A sales and marketing manager when she had to persuade her kids to follow the right path,
Administration manager to run the house,
Technical and operations manager when there were glitches that comes with maintenance of a house,
A finance and accounts manager and
A home maker and chef, rolled into one,
Logistics and procurement manager from buying to using resources to make ends meet,
A teacher, a psychologist, an advisor, an actor and story teller to help forget the bad times and to eat the veggies,
A hope builder,
An auditor who looked at our mistakes and corrected them till we almost got ISO certificated for it,
A barber (for cutting my hair as a kid),
An analyst,
Home health aide,
Pest control worker (for driving away the cockroaches and lizards that used to make me scream in fright),
Probational officer for the times we overstepped the limits,
A detective who had eyes at the back of her head and knew exactly what the kids were up to,
To an all round nurse and doctor who stayed up, healed, nourished and held our hands through illnesses and more!! In short – SHE IS MOM!

Despite the generation gap, the fights and the complexities that go into every relationship, my mom is not just special in my life. She is my life.

“You know you've read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.”~Paul Sweeney

That’s what I felt like when I finished Pollyanna by Eleanor Porter. This book should come with the warning: “This could change your life.”

I, then, gifted a copy to a friend of mine who was complaining about all the bad things happened in her life. She looked at it and said, “It looks like a kid’s book to me.” “It is, I said, but looks like we adults could need it. After she read it , she couldn’t thank me enough.

That’s Pollyanna for you. A medicine sweetened for us all to swallow in one gulp and leaves an everlasting taste long after you finished reading it.

The overview

Pollyanna has had a hard life. Her mother died when she was young, and she has been impoverished all her life. Then her father dies too. Orphaned at the age of eleven, she is sent to live with her aunt, an uptight, humorless woman who looks upon taking Pollyanna under her care as her duty -- and nothing more and hopes that the child won't disrupt her quiet, bland routine too much.
But disrupt she will to her life and to the lives of all the others who are lucky enough to come in touch with her, for Pollyanna’s father has taught her to play a game, a game that can be played by anyone, anytime, anywhere and in any situation, a game that could well become a revolution in this world. It's called the Glad Game, and with it Pollyanna proceeds to turn the entire town upside down.


From the Böök:” You see I'd wanted a doll, and father had written to them so. But when the missionary barrel came the lady wrote that there hadn't any dolls come in, but the little crutches had. So she sent 'em along as they might come in handy for some child, sometime. And that's when we began it. ... the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about -- no matter what 'twas," rejoined Pollyanna earnestly. "And we began right then -- on the crutches."
Her father told her that she could be 'glad' that she didn't 'need' them, and that's when the game of finding a silver lining in every cloud began.

The book, classic in its language, is joyful and refreshing and the message in it is universal. You are left, with the feeling of wanting to find something good in everything in life and can almost feel like you know Pollyanna personally and like the quote says, at the end of the book, you feel a little like you lost a good friend though her message would stay with the reader. A must read for young and old alike.

Vidya.S

Thoughts in (BRACKETS).

After hearing about the recent bomb blast at Pune, I was transported back in time when Bangalore the city I live in experienced a series of bomb blasts, the first ever and hopefully the last. I dug out an article which I had written then to express my feelings and the interesting reactions of people I interacted with.

Today, I woke up and got dressed with great enthusiasm. My friend and I were having lunch together and post lunch, we decided to explore a popular mall. Half an hour into blissful shopping, we saw people shutting shops and packing up. The coffee shop we were having coffee, served us the coffee and asked us to leave. “Some service this!” I thought to myself and asked for the reason. It was then we got to know there was a series of bomb blasts that rocked the city. I looked at my mobile phone and with calls of concern pouring in, we managed to get in to an auto and reach home safely – a good three hours later than usual because of the chaos around us. Sitting on my bed tonight, a day after the blast I tried to pen my thoughts on all that happened during the last day and half. What really stood out were the mixed reactions of people I interacted with as soon as they heard the news. Friends, by standers, a little kid from the class where I teach, auto drivers and I felt I had to put these down. My thoughts are in (BRAC KETS).

“Must be a joke. It is real amusing (The first reaction to any bad news – Denial).

“Bangalore? Not possible. It is such a peaceful, safe city (More denial. It took a long time for people to register, but the camera didn’t lie, the blood, the damages and the deaths all confirmed it).

“Bangalore now. What next?” (A sheer feeling of helplessness. You know all is not right and what to do about it?).

“Where the hell were you? My heart was racing and I am so glad you reached safely.” (Mom – at her worried best. No one can measure the anguish that loved ones went through that day).

“I was so shaken yesterday. I couldn’t sleep.” (Grief for all that is lost and the beginnings of insecurity from being jarred out a peaceful living).

“Miss, there won’t be any more bomb blasts. God has seen everything and he will punish those who did it.” (The five year old in my class where I teach kids. Ah! The innocence of kids who symbolize hope).

THIS IS NOT AN ATTEMPT AT A NEW STYLE OF WRITING. JUST A WISH THAT PEOPLE WHO COMMIT SUCH INHUMAN ACTS WOULD REMOVE THEIR MENTAL BRACKETS AND (THINK BEYOND THE BRACKETS. THEN MAYBE WE CAN CREATE THAT PERFECT SENTENCE WHICH NEEDS NO EXPLANATIONS….