“A Man without a Religion ”

It was Aug 2, a Saturday. I was reluctant to go to office, but was bound to give the status of one clients’ work. The day was boring as I was alone and working. I finished my assigned job by 7 something in the evening and was heading for a BMTC bus. I thought would fill myself with some omlettes and some juice.

There he was. The man without a religion.

Since couple of weeks , I had observed that there were many South Korean trainees who flocked our campus. Deep white complexion, tiny eyes, shiny hair and were speaking “God-knows-what-words”. They were very happy and full of high spirits who always moved in groups and never cared for rest of the world.

But this guy was alone. Was eating sandwich and drinking lassi. He was lanky, hair was lengthy.He had worn red jacket, a low-waist jeans and a boot. It was fun to watch him drink lassi :)

I was done. And I kept myself busy, Big 10 bus, a window seat. Within few minutes bus was occupied. And this lanky dude entered the bus and sat next to me and threw a smile. I smiled back. Yeah, I can work on Saturdays and still smile :).


Within no time we became friends. He introduced himself to be Lee @#$@#$. Yeah I dint get his surname. He also told that he is from @!?@#$, a place near Seoul, South Korea. And I introduced myself in the same format.

Well, I started off. I asked him about India and whether he liked India and Blore. First thing he told me was that, he liked that people here had a religion and he dint have one. He also gave examples Hindus, Muslims, Catholics and religion with turban (he meant Sikhs). He it seems wasn’t aware about who god was before. When ever he said god, he pointed sky that seemed funny to me. I must appreciate Lee had done his homework about Bangalore very well. He had “Google-earthed” for Bangalore. Not just that he even remembered some of neighboring states of Karnataka. We discussed about politics, Farming, Education, English and our enemies.We had lot of things in common. I had to tell him that Pakistan was once our own part and we had partition followed. The similar thing also existed between South and North Koreans. Lee was surprised to know that Indians and they shared Independence Day on Aug. 15. Bus was moving and people were staring at us.

“Anjeng” was their hello, he said to me. And he liked me for pronouncing it right. He asked me to pronounce some more words/phrases which meant “I am cool”, “ I love you”, and “Bye”. In return I taught some filmy words, “ Maa..! main aaya “, “Hey Bhagwaan” and our own “Namastey”. Lee was impressive with pronunciation.

We changed the bus at Silk board to Marthalli. We were seated in last seats of a BMTC bus. He was all smiling and asked me to join for party at M.G.Road, from which point we started chatting about food. It seems he liked Indian food , Parothas with chicken kebabs , Indian Chicken Biriyani. He also asked me if ever I come to their place I should try “Mee-Chi”. It was his favorite Korean dish. I am sure no Indian would like it coz it’s made of dog’s inner organs… I was about to puke: D

“What you guys do on weekends?” I asked for which Lee answered, that they roamed M.G. and Brigade Roads, went for shopping, boozed and of course watched Indian girls. (No matters to what country they belong to, Boys are boys, Rock stars: P) Yeah he liked our girls for their “dressing sense”. “They have certain charm hidden in their eyes, which is lacking in Korean feminine eyes” he commented. He said he recently broke up with his gal and was pursuing his career instead.

“How it’s in India to get married?”.

“Well it’s a tedious one. First of all the couple should belong to same religion, same caste. Then they should be speaking same language. After that, their horoscope should match. And then, parents of the couple on either side should agree. Then extra caution is taken from bride’s side for bridegroom’s behavior, like the latter doesn’t booze or smoke. And bridegroom’s side demands dowry to which brides owe. You know it’s complicated”.



“I don’t understand one thing here”

“What’s that?”

“If such restrictions are there in India to get married, then how come you are leading country for population?”

I am still thinking about it….!

THE ENGLISH TEACHER....!

Raman and his family had just arrived to Poonuru. He was very much used to being new to places, befriending new classmates and playing in new grounds; for his dad was a village accountant which was a transferable job. Poonuru village was well embellished by mother earth. Pavani River streamed through the village; dense banyan trees covering the outskirts and many plain grounds promised him lots of fun. He was waiting for evening to cast its spell.

Being stranger, Raman always knew tactics to get to know people. He wore his favorite track pant, topping a t shirt and a pair of sports shoes .He set to School maidaan with his attractive cricket bat full of signatures of cricketers. The trick was to gel with schoolmates, allure them with his cricket bat .Most of the time he won their attention. Then he would get to know about each of them, their family, popular hang-outs, about the school, the teachers, to-do’s and not-to-do’s, the pretty girls, movies and almost everything.

Mujju, Salman, Velu thronged Raman when he showed off his bat. Apparently they were playing cricket with a jackfruit stick which they called a bat. Raman seized the chance and introduced himself to one and half dozen crowd. All were admiring Raman for his bat, flashy dress and his geared bicycle. Mujju even dare sitting on the cycle. Raman was quite happy. He promised he would get good-quality ball the next day. He scored charming 37 runs out of 10 balls and took even 4 wickets. He got to know more about the rest of the gang.He also observed that Mani the hefty guy was dominating, quarreled each time with players and was inconvincible. When Raman stroke Mani’s wickets, the latter gave a killer stare, not just that, he left the place uttering non-parliamentary words.

Match was done. Raman quizzed about Poonuru. Velu found swimming in Pavani was a joyful stuff, Slaman said smoking at Kaka’s shop was entertaining and Jannu said stealing jackfruits grown at Stella teacher’s garden was wonderful. All had opinions and Raman was enjoying their attention for him. A cute girl just passed them and Dinga whistled at her. All were laughing and giggling at this gesture. Even Raman couldn’t avoid smiling. Dinga was sort of joker in their group. Now Raman diverted the topic. He wanted to know about the school.

Dinga was on his toes imitating headmaster. They all laughed. Raman sensed that headmaster was manageable. He always feared math. So Mujju told Shijo sir was too sweet to get scared, never scolded anyone. Kids spilled beans about social science teacher and unusual behavior of him eating chalk pieces. Dinga again was showing off his talent, how teachers spoke, their accent, their mistakes and the way they sign notebooks. Then Raman asked about English teacher. Group fell silent. Velu asked him to witness the class next day .And the group disbursed.

Raman narrated entire episode to his mom word by word. His mom Laxmi too was curious about English teacher.

*****
“…..Raman, Our College boasts about scoring good marks in English, we have produced toppers in the subject since years, students are performing better year by year...Rehman Sir has been teaching our students very well” headmaster was speaking. Raman’s parents were just nodding, and Raman was counting number of times headmaster uttered the word “English”. It was close to 43.

First period was of Math sir. Mani was shouting and Mujju was flirting.Shijo sir was explaining about Tangents and Secants. A rocket ruffled Dinga’s head (was shot by Mani) .Dinga woke up to see all students laughing. Shijo sir explained that Dinga’s head was a circle and Rocket was tangent as it touched at one point. Dinga was okay as he was “exemplified”. Raman too was impressed with his new math teacher. Velu shouted saying had that been a sphere thrown at Dinga, it would have pierced Dinga’s head at two points thus it signified a Secant. Students including Shijo sir giggled. Dinga flopped. Class was funny. Salman now turned at Raman asking him to watch next class for the English teacher.

Mujju was briefing Raman about Rehman Sir. He was a mossi (local slang for a Muslim) who taught English very well. They said none ever could speak English as fluently as he could; none even in the district. Students feared him but he never had beaten any of his students. He never believed in punishing too. Students did their homework and assignments. He never spoke personal things, never commented about anyone. Never smiled, not even when he produced seven English toppers for the nation, just meant his business and that he commuted bicycling.

The only time he became angry was when headmaster refused bringing English newspaper magazines at school’s cost. He rose and his eyes were pitching red. He insisted about need for the language and promised to arrange the magazines out of his own pocket and had vacated. Since then school staff including headmaster feared him.

******

Rehman Sir entered. He was tall man, with broad shoulders. Had shaved off his moustache, had sported a thick beard which ran all over his cheeks. Face had many wrinkles. He was dressed with a pant which never touched his shoe, and a shirt. Dark mark on his forehead hinted that he offered Namaz often.

“Students let me teach you about Gerunds and Infinitives”

Mujju, Salman, Velu took their books out. Dinga was fully prepared and Mani too was attentive. Entire class was concentrating. Raman too took his book out. Students were corrected for their spelling mistakes, wrong pronunciations and class was done. Raman observed that everyone wanted to get appreciation from English teacher.

Rest of the periods were insignificant even Raman’s mom felt later in the evening.

******
Laxmi was shopping for groceries one Sunday evening. She was looking out for Spinach, which her son liked most. “Laxmi Didi….!” she couldn’t recognize the person. He came to her and addressed himself to be Gullu; her neighborhood. Laxmi recalled her days before marriage.

They were in Hyderabad .This Gullu was son of Abdul Chacha the taxi driver. Gullu used to come to their house everyday, was pampered by her mom.Evenings he used to attend a local Madrasa He was often helping her mom for errands, played with her brother. Both were very naughty those days. Abdul chacha and her dad always had tough time with people of lane because of this duo. They even had once dismantled a transformer and had blackout. Last what she heard was Abdul chacha had committed suicide and Gullu had ran away.

“Didi, I know, what you want to know from me” Gullu said.

Laxmi was not demanding. She did not know what really had happened. But she did not interrupt him saying.

“There was one foreign traveler who hired my dad. He wanted to go to Tirupati and my dad was driving. Somewhere the traveler stopped for refreshments leaving my dad alone in car. When he returned, he saw my dad unconscious and foreigner’s asset robbed.
Unfortunately, the traveler lodged a complaint against my dad. My dad got handcuffed and was treated very badly by cops. My father returned home, he was very sorry for the crime he never committed. He committed suicide. Till his last breath he was claiming his innocence”

Tears rolled on Laxmi’s cheeks.

“I headed towards the foreigner. I wanted to tell him that I had lost my dad for no mistake of his. I shouted, I cried in the language he never understood. All I saw was him leaving the place with a mocking smile on his face.I was helpless”

There was a long pause.

“I decided, one day I will let this know man what he had done to me and my father, in his own language. Not just that, I made up mind that none should be in a situation, I was in.”

Gullu was emotional. They were walking ,walking and walking.

“What are you doing in Poonuru?” .

“I am the English Teacher here…..”

A Pawn becomes powerful at the END..!

“……from my boyhood, the struggle that attracted me most was the Indian freedom struggle. The role of Netaji attracted me very much. I was brought up in an environment of strict discipline from childhood. I was not permitted to mingle freely with outsiders. I used to feel shy of girls. Great store was laid by personal rectitude and discipline. My father set an example through his own personal conduct: He would not even chew betel leaves. A very straightforward man. Even while criticizing me, they marvel at the fact that such a son was born to such a father! In my own case, he reasoned rather than regimented and his attitude was that of a friend.... As I said, I grew up as a shy boy.....especially in the matter or mingling with girls.

I used to read books on the rise of Napoleon and his exploits..... This kind of history held special appeal.....in the Mahabharata, the roles of Bhima and Karna were especially attractive to me..... The spirit of sacrifice appeared crucial. People respond to characters in the Mahabharata in various ways. I value the character and role of Karna the most, on account of his readiness to make the ultimate sacrifice ….. ”

These are not excerpts from a politician’s biography, its neither glimpse from life story of any social reformer. It’s an excerpt from interview with Velupillai Prabhakaran, infamous for founding L.T.T.E and introducing “suicide-bombers”.


It was early 1970s. It was the time Ceylon was just renamed Sri Lanka. The little beautiful island country was popular for tourism. The rich flora and fauna, a great sacred history and strong cultural background, it had everything.

And it happened.

Jaffna, the cultural capital of Sri Lanka was observing a discussion amongst local Tamilian clan. This particular discussion was aimed at claiming political freedom, financial status for local repressed Tamil speaking people, and suddenly a mob of Sinhalese (The majority in Sri Lanka) attacked and later which lead to death of prominent persons.

Thileepan, a Tamil activist who was traumatized by incident, succumbed to death by following fasting as a way to oppose the then Sri Lankan Govt.

This incident really moved Velupillai Prabhakaran.!

He joined TNT (Tamil New Tigers), and the rest what followed was total massacre. To start with, Mayor of Jaffna Alfred Duraiappah was shot dead. Several bombs explosion while attempting to kill then Prime Minister Bhandara Naike marred many.

But, Prabhakaran was not in terms to settle. He established his own outfit which went on to rule Northern Lanka for 30 years, LTTE..! This rebellion group had its own Army, Navy and air force, the group chanted just one mantra, Tamil Ealam (Tamil country).People who opposed were gunned down, by hook or crook he got his enemy strangled to death. Guerilla warfare, suicide bombing, AK 47s, Strategy warfare, whatever let it be, he and his team excelled. Indian Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi in 1991, Sri Lankan President Rajasinghe Premadasa in 1993, he cared for none. Media feared him, Tamil Diaspora worshipped him …

But the point is, he too had a family, he even had simhalese friends; a loving wife; two sons and a daughter. He never tied killer-belt to his daughter’s waist and let her kill a VIP. Everyday he prayed and did the normal stuff.

Where he went wrong?

Nobody had ever imagined in a country where political majority was with whites, that a non-white black would be President. But it has materialized as Obama becoming 44th President of US of A.

“I have a dream”

The public spoke the same language. Ate same food, enjoyed same drink. They got educated, got married but there was only one line of separation. The complexion. It was the time when blacks were tabooed to join whites, restaurants, educational institutions, or any theatres. But none dared oppose “White Monopoly”over them until one of the blacks came forward, boosted the oppressed blacks, retorted back at rulers in white. It was none other than Martin Luther King Jr.

Martin Luther received a B.A. degree from Morehouse College, which was a college for Negroes then. After 3 years of theological study at Crozer Theological Seminary in Pennsylvania he became the president where majority were whites, he received a B.D. in 1951. This boosted his spirits to fight for blacks and their rights.

MLK as he was called, never settled for the treatment he and his men received from the whites. He, in order to serve his purpose joined various committees, demonstrations as act of his protest against the unfairness for his men. He believed firmly on principles of Christianity and practicality of Gandhian way of passive resistance. He was elected president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference which aimed at restoring civil rights . He traveled for 11 years, conducted several thousands of speeches, and made people aware of their rights. He wrote many books and articles, led campaigns against injustice towards his men and strongly supported equality amongst citizens of USA.

His Birmingham, Alabama campaigns got attention from all over the world and this revolutionized US history. He was arrested at least twenty five times and was wounded various times. His house was bombed, he was mocked at. But he never let his spirits down. He was given five honorary degrees, was named man of the year by Time in 1963 and not just that he was then youngest one to receive to Nobel Prize.

He never believed in vehemence, civil disobedience and non violence were his weapons to fight. When Michael Jackson dances, Jordan scores a 3 pointer one can see what MLK had dreamt for his men.

How contradictory?


Political life I believe is like playing chess, where the repressed or rebellion is just a pawn. And he has to face the mighty troop of ministers, knights and bishops. You will move according to the rules of majority and you don’t have power. That’s why you are repressed. And remember when pawn reaches its final destination, it becomes powerful.

Only if Prabhakaran had realized this….!

Just KIDDING....!

Just kidding, I am sorry… :)


It has been part and parcel of our life. You do all the nasty things and have a readymade pretext. How funny? But none wants to be a kid infact.

I am now fed up being adult and doing mature things. And I am damn sure so are you. Get up early in the morning, do all the things and go to school wearing uniform. Seriously, I want to be a kid. Fight with neighbor, steal chocolates from Naveen anna’s shop, collect the pebbles, listen to mythic stories, by-heart the math table , make a paper boat and let it in rain water running in gutter, keeping a larva in matchbox and “bringing it up” till it becomes a big butterfly…

“Err execuse me , Juniper has issues, its ge-1/0/0 port has gone down; need to get it rebooted”

To hell with Juniper. I sometimes think to get that router emptied of all the ICs, cards sockets ports and fill it with blue water, grow some mosses and let some colorful fishes swim.. Will not the lab then look cute….?

I am of the opinion that every one has a kid hidden in them. Be it GM of the company or a paanwala. Little innocence, little naughtiness why can’t we possess? Even if we do why are we acting? Why, as we grow older stick to Economic times and not Tinkle? Why we stay away from tempting Ice creams and cakes once we were addicted to eat? These are some of the questions I usually avoid answering.


What we like actually in kids?

A colleague of mine chooses kids smile. She herself is mother, said she also liked her kid picking its first words ‘Mom, Papa’ (Not coz they are in alphabetic order ..!) .Some chose kids innocence; their face being bucket of question marks. A kid’s touch is charismatic. Isn’t it like a bird’s soft feather?

Why can’t we be kids?

Gotcha…! Scare for your image right? : P what if a passer by observes me dancing when I am listening to a rocking music? Or is it because you want to declare your maturity? You don’t want to have more toys as you are “grown” ? Come one..! Once in a while be a kid... You love it. I always liked being like that. It will “ F5” ( read it as refresh) your life.. Trash the files; stop the coding and go out and get wet in the rain.. Pick some rocking music and do a hip shake...and definitely read Tinkle.. ( Suppandi is just awesome , and he is still alive )

You will definitely LOVE your life again… Trust me 


Two kids were boasting ..….

Kid1 : I have got a big home.

Kid2 : I have got a bigger home .

Kid 1 : My bro is intelligent ,

Kid2 : My bro , sis both have scored better marks than your bro.

Kid1 : My mom is beautiful.

Kid2 ( frowns, feels he lost ) : Yeah I do agree with that, I lost , My dad too says so… 


Can you Kid ?

FOR ALL, I TRUST HER…!

Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to…
George Seaton

Angel
Noun
1. A spiritual being believed to be an attendant or messenger of God
2. A conventional representation of an angel as a human being with wings
3. Informal a person who is kind, pure, or beautiful

It was my Anganwaadi (Kindergarten) class, I remember Ratnavathi Teacher narrating a story on one Cinderella, the poor girl who was living a tragic life and later was fortunate enough to get wed locked with Prince of the state. “They lived happily ever after “story. What caught my attention was the ANGEL...! The Angel in the story poured her love on this poor chit of girl and bestowed her all the luxuries. So sweet of angel.

What if I had an Angel with me? Call her fairy or semi-human magician or genie, whatever. It’s just exciting to have an Angel in your life. I was thinking then... What if I really had an Angel? What should I say to mom?

I went to Ratnavathi teacher (I used to ask her so many doubts) asked “Do Angels really exist? Why don’t we get to see them? Can I have an Angel for me? ”. I must appreciate her; she never discouraged me asking doubts. She was pleasant and soft. She said “Yes, Angels do exist . They help people who are in trouble and only are visible to them.”
It was pleasant answer. And I was no Cinderella. I dint have any works to do at home as she did , except for home works and my teacher told Angels don’t help to do homeworks. A Kid’s thoughts, a kid’s desire to have an Angel….

There was one serial in DD, every Sunday was getting telecasted “Sabina – A story of an Angel”. I was ardent fan of her .It shaped my mind that Angels are feminine in looks and emotions. I asked my mom too about angels, I don’t remember what she answered. I guess she was busy cooking.

It was some place; I don’t remember. I had been to relatives’ home there. And in the evening we went for outing, me, my mom and that aunt. We boarded bus in the evening; my mom and aunt were seated in front seats. You know right? It’s me. I requested mom that I will be seated in backseats as I liked chatting with conductor ( I always wanted to be a conductor ). I occupied last seat (I was 7, you know what? My mom was confident about me). I was stupid; I saw a building identical to my aunt’s home. I got down there from back exit thinking mom and aunt had got down from front exit.

Guess what? bus left, and there was no mom and no aunt. It was evening and I was scared to death. How to contact my mom? My heart was throbbing loudly. It breezed. A fair lady was passing near by, saw me lonely and sobbing. She came to me and asked my whereabouts. I knew only Konkani, Urdu and little ungrammatical Kannada. I explained somehow what happened, some information about my parents. I also told her that I was missing mom and need soon to be with mom. She consoled me and caught my hand and we were walking towards the way where my bus had left. It was complete silence. I dint say anything she dint ask anything, she was just all smiling and consoling. Some quarter of an hour later, I saw my mom and aunt coming towards us walking, worried.

She smiled and went; I felt she was the Angel.

I was growing. Textbooks had much of science, matter and cosmos. Theory of evolution, Big bang theory. My heart broke. It all left my thoughts, ideals bogus. No Angels No Gods and No sinner shall perish and the goody shall nourish. It was a big blow.
It gradually made me think. Angels need not be having magical powers; need not be having wings. They help the people who are in trouble and are visible only to them. Some said Mother Teresa was an angel; some believed Divya Bharati was an angel; some loved their daughter as an angel. Angelic World, Angelic Life, Angelic Thoughts.

Since then I felt Angels are amongst us; my mom is an angel, my teachers are angels, my friends are angels and the beautiful people around you are angels. You are in trouble they will show up and they will help you. They will inspire your life. They will soothe your fist sized tender heart. Every person, creature in this world has feminine quality in traces which is Angelic.

But you have too see for HER, trust HER and wait for HER..!

Yes.. Angels do EXIST..!