Long Time, No See....

It's been two months since I last ventured here. A hectic, tiring two months that left me with no energy and inclination to write or engage on any social media platforms. That is, except for two occasions, when I was forced to submit my story in the short story writing challenge for which I signed up in February of this year. Now, things have started slowing down, and there's a much awaited vacation looming on the horizon; so, hopefully, I will be writing more often 😅

About seven people reached out to me during this hiatus, asking if all was well, because they noticed I was off the radar. Thank you, guys and gals for your loving concern, for I suspect it acted as a positive reinforcer in hastening my return here. 

This post is a 500-word short story I wrote for this month on the prompt "Going Home." I've taken a little liberty with what is essentially a real-life story. 

Title: Home Is Where the Heart Is


After stumbling for two hours through the dense undergrowth, Captain Kiran finally accepted that he was well and truly lost on his first day in the beautiful mountains of Arunachal Pradesh. He rued his impulsive decision to trek to the army camp instead of waiting for the jeep that was to transport him.

“Veerta aur Vivek,” he chanted aloud, trying to draw strength from the motto of his alma mater, the Indian Military Academy. He knew he had shown no ‘vivek’ or wisdom and was in dire need of ‘veerta’ or courage, to go on.

A low, bloodcurdling growl came from somewhere to his right and Kiran ran blindly, mindless of the low-hanging branches that scratched his face and arms. Which is why he didn’t notice the hand that thrust into his solar plexus, pushing him to the ground. The same hand steadied him into a crouching position and a voice barked, “Take a few deep breaths and you’ll be okay.”

Looking up, Kiran noticed an elderly but fit man in front of him, dressed in old army fatigues, with a rifle slung across his shoulder. Answering Kiran’s unasked question, the guy separated the branches of the trees right in front and beckoned Kiran to take a look.

“Sorry for hurting you, but I had to stop you before you went there, you know.”

Kiran looked out gingerly to see a bottomless ravine that plunged a few thousand feet.

“I don’t know how to thank you, sir. If not for you, I’d be dead by now.”

“Indeed. Now that we’re not at war with China, this is the only service I can render my country,” he grinned. “Come, let me show you the way back to your camp.”

“How do you know where I’m going?”

“I heard you pleading for ‘Valour and Wisdom,’ young man, and knew you’re an alumnus of the IMA at Dehradun.”

Kiran struggled to keep up with the rifleman’s scorching pace and within the next hour, he found himself in the army camp. But his guide was nowhere to be seen. Kiran asked the guard at the gate if he’d seen a man with a rifle passing by. The guard looked closely at him and mouthed a cryptic reply, “He’s gone back to his home.”

Later that evening, as he walked on the Sela Pass, Kiran came to a stop outside a structure that bore the name of “Jaswant Garh.” 

Entering, he found a cabinet display of the personal belongings of Rifleman Jaswant Singh Rawat who was killed on 17th November, 1962, while fighting a large Chinese force with a mere three hand grenades in his pocket. A war citation gave a brief description of the encounter and explained that for his valiant act, the rifleman had been posthumously awarded the gallantry award called Maha Vir Chakra.

As he gaped at the photograph that took centre stage in the hallowed room, Kiran could have sworn his guide of the morning actually smiled and winked at him.

My intent is to inspire you readers to look up the details of the incident it mentions and so, I've provided a link to another blog that does justice to the legend. Read this.

Short Story: Cheats Don't Win

This is a short story I wrote as part of an exercise being conducted by a South-Africa based writer's group. The prompt for this was "New Life" and word count was 1000 words. 

Let me know what you think of my effort and if you'd like to read more of my stories 😊

“Group hug!” shouted Dev, grabbing Atul and Jai before walking into the examination hall. Just two more papers to answer, and then, a new life, thought Atul. Already selected by a top firm during the campus recruitment drive, he didn’t need to worry about looking for a job. He had beaten Dev to it, but his best friend hadn’t seemed to mind because he’d also been placed with another good company, albeit with a smaller pay package.

Two hours after the question papers were distributed, Atul’s pen continued to move furiously, filling up the pages of the answer booklet. 

Which is why he didn’t immediately stand when ordered to. A hand pulled him up, then slid into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper with some formulae scribbled on it. A voice barked, “What’s this?” and before he could realize what was happening, Atul was being dragged downstairs to Principal Nadkarni’s office. The dreaded flying squad from the University, monitoring examination centres, had struck.

“We caught this boy with copying material. Book a malpractice case.”

Nadkarni slowly asked, “Did you catch him copying?”

“No, but the slip is evidence enough that he intended to cheat.”

Atul finally found his voice. “Sir, I don’t know how this paper came into my pocket. I ..I ..went through a check before entering the hall, they…they didn’t find anything then…Sir, please believe me. Ask the staff; they’ll tell you I’m speaking the truth….please, Sir, I haven’t done any cheating…please, Sir… don’t book a malpractice case against me, Sir!”

Nadkarni asked Atul to wait outside the office for a while. Turning to the men from the University, he explained that Atul was the college’s star pupil who had excelled year after year in both academics and extra-curricular activities. Besides, his ailing father couldn’t work and the family ran on the meager income from Atul’s part-time job.

“We can understand that, Nadkarni Sir, but rules are rules and we have to set an example so that no one else dares repeat this offense.”

They argued back and forth until finally, a compromise was reached. Atul was called in. In front of his very eyes, one of the men drew a line through each and every one of his answers. The men warned Atul, “It’s only due to the immense respect we have for Nadkarni Sir’s words, that we’re letting you off the hook, but you better never try this trick ever again.”

People on the pavement saw a boy run blindly out of the college gates. They yelled at him to stop, but it was too late. An ominous screeching of brakes and then, there he lay, sprawled on the road, his leg twisted, blood all around…..

A few minutes later, Raghu the lab technician ran into the Principal’s office. “Sir, I’m sure Atul couldn’t have had a slip in his pocket.”

“How do you know, Raghu?”

“Because I’m the one who checked him at the entrance to the corridor and there was nothing in his pocket!”

The light in Principal Nadkarni’s office burned long into the night and when he finally left, he thought he knew what had happened.

Three months later, when Atul came to the college office to pay the fees for the supplementary examination, Nadkarni spoke to him.

“How are you feeling now, Atul?”

“I’m okay, Sir. The first two months after the accident were bad, but now I’m busy studying for the supplementary exam. I can’t afford to mess up this time,” he grimaced.

“How’s your dad?”

“He’s ok, although a bit sad that I couldn’t complete my course on time to take up the job secured through the campus placement. But he accepted the accident as an act of fate and says God does all for the best. If only he knew --”

“Study well, Atul. I’m sure you’ll score well and once the results are out, you’ll quickly find another job.”

“Thank you, Sir. For everything. If not for you, I’d have been tainted with the “malpractice” tag. At least now, I can honestly blame the accident for finishing my course late.”

Six months later, the phone on Nadkarni’s table rang.

“I’ve cleared the exam and scored 80% marks, Sir.”

“Great news, Atul! Congratulations, my boy!”

“And Sir, I’ve also been selected as a trainee at BT Info Services. I start work tomorrow. Thank you for all your support, Sir.”

“Good, Atul. And don’t worry - a bright spark like you will soon rise to greater heights. I wish you the very best for the new life you’re going to begin!”

No sooner had he finished speaking to Atul than Nadkarni dialed another number. A call long overdue, he believed.

“Is this Dev? I’m Principal Nadkarni….yes, yes, good morning to you too. So, are you still working at BT Info Services?”

“Oh, that’s nice, that’s nice. Isn’t Mr. Krishnakanth your manager? I know him very well ….we studied together…. Dev, do you know that Atul is joining your company tomorrow? …Oh, you do…that’s good. I hope you will help him, Dev…yes, yes, he’s already lost almost a year….By the way, are you free this Saturday? … No, no…nothing urgent…I just wanted to show you the footage from a CCTV camera in the college corridor on the 1st floor. Remember that day when Atul had his accident? I can’t hear you clearly…speak up Dev…you’re sounding very faint….Right, as I was saying, I was watching that footage and it seemed to me like just outside the exam hall, when you and another guy were hugging Atul, your hand slipped into Atul’s pocket….what’s the matter, Dev? Is the signal weak? I can’t hear you very well…ok, I’ll wait for you on Saturday at 10.30 am, don’t be late!”

After two days, it was Mr. Krishnakanth who called Nadkarni to say, “Your student sure is a star….what do you mean, which one? Of course, I mean Atul….no, no…not Dev…I don’t know what came over him…he suddenly resigned two days ago.”

This I learned from the Ramayana

Today is Sri Rama Navami – the day we celebrate the birth of Lord Rama. This occasion means a lot of things to me and I’ve written about it previously here.

When I was a child and listened to the Geet Ramayan being sung, one of my most favourite songs was the one that went “Setu bandhaa re…” and depicted the spirit with which the vaanaraas worked enthusiastically to build the bridge to Lanka.

Later in life, I heard two stories that again revolved around this same Setu-bandhan activity. Time and again, these stories have served to inspire me.

The first one of these is the story of a tiny squirrel.

All the vaanaraas were rushing about uprooting trees and lifting huge boulders and carrying them to throw into the sea. A squirrel who saw all this also felt enthused to contribute to this task. Although it could not uproot trees or carry boulders like the vaanaraas, it did what little it could. It carried a few small pebbles in its mouth; it also rolled its body in the sand on the seashore and then shook off the sand grains and pebbles on the bridge that was taking shape.

Some monkeys laughed at the efforts of the tiny squirrel. Rama Himself reprimanded them by pointing to how the pebbles and sand crept into the crevices between the stones, helping to bind together the whole bridge structure and give it strength!

The story continues to say that Lord Rama lovingly stroked the squirrel’s back, giving it the famous stripes we see till today. The more relevant part of this story for me has always been that spirit of “seek to do whatever you can to help – no matter how small it may appear in the overall scheme of things.” 

The second story narrates how Lord Rama was watching the vaanaraas uprooting, carrying and throwing the boulders into the sea. Throughout the activity, and especially while dropping the rocks, they kept chanting “Jai Shree Rama” and each stone they threw into the water, unfailingly floated to the surface, to form a chain of rocks, giving shape to the bridge. 

Watching this, Lord Rama himself picked up a boulder and threw it into the sea but surprisingly, for all His divine prowess, it sank without a trace. The difference between His action and that of the monkeys – He didn’t echo their chant. 

This story is what gave rise to the famous tenet “Raam se badaa Raam kaa naam” that says the Name of the Lord is greater than His Form. Every time I recollect this anecdote, I’m reminded that when I do things to the accompaniment of chanting the Lord’s Name (whether loudly or mentally), they turn out far more successful than I ever imagined possible.


We must all aspire to abide by Dharma as conscientiously as Rama; but to be able to do that effectively, it is important to first cultivate the spirit of Hanumaan. With every single breath, like the Pavanaputraa, let us ask for His unstinting faith and devotion to the Lotus feet of Lord Rama!

Jai Shree Ram ! 

Timeline of a transformation

“But Ma’am, actually Lalu is also very smart, but people don’t realize it,” says my student – let’s call him XZY (and the Y is significant as you’ll realize by the end of this piece).

I teach a subject called Pharmacognosy that deals with plant-based medicines. I’ve been explaining about Ayurveda and how the world today is again waking up to its value. In passing, I mention about how Yoga too is gaining visibility thanks to the International Yoga Day that has been initiated by our PM Narendra Modi, who is smart enough to recognize its value.

It is to this statement that my student XZY has responded with his opinion about an earthy politician from Bihar. I acknowledge his opinion and move on with Ayurveda because politics is out-of-syllabus – after all, I’m not a prof at JNU! It is September 2015, a month before the Bihar elections that saw the Mahagatbandhan sweep to power. Busy with the academic schedule, neither I nor XZY have the time to discuss Lalu’s reversed fortunes.

***********

“Ma’am, my family is into politics in Uttar Pradesh. One of my relatives is a Samajwadi Party candidate and I’m going to campaign for him in the 2017 elections,” says XZY to me. We’re outside the classroom, in a hospital actually, where I’m visiting a student who developed sudden, severe, debilitating back pain. It is January 2016. XZY tells me he’s going to get into politics after a few years, and we talk about general aspects of how it’s going to be a challenge, but he is determined. I advice him that no matter which party he chooses, he must never lose sight of the fact that he should serve the people. It is February 2016.

***********

XZY completes his course and leaves the college in July 2016. He keeps in touch with me through an occasional message on Whatsapp.

***********

“Ma’am, UP mein bahut drama chal rahaa hai!” is XZY’s first statement after wishing me a Happy New Year on Jan 1st, 2017. It’s been a few days since the much-publicized spat and making-up between Akhilesh Yadav and Mulayam Singh Yadav. I ask him how his campaigning for SP is going on and he lobs the equivalent of a bomb at me, “Ma’am, we’re supporting Bharatiya Janata Party!” 

Flabbergasted, I ask what happened to cause this shifting of loyalties. He tells me about how although Akhilesh Yadav has good intentions, he hasn’t been able to act on them. There’s quite some concern about appeasement politics too. And the youth all over the state are firmly behind Modi ji. XZY’s family has received feelers from local BJP leaders for putting up a candidate under their flag and they’re in the middle of finalizing the issue. I wish him luck and say goodbye, but not before realizing he’s been singing the PM’s praises for quite a few minutes. 

***********

In the last week of February 2017, XZY texts me, “Ma’am, some people are saying that Akhilesh is coming back to power, I’m worried.” I think I detect a mild desperation and try to buoy him up saying, “It’s OK, let’s wait…there are two more phases of voting to go.”

***********

On March 11, 2017, I rush from the classroom to the staffroom to catch up with the election results pouring in. Within minutes, I have a text from XZY, exulting in the fact that the lotus has well-and-truly bloomed in UP.

***********

One week later, at around 7 pm, I’m alternating between news channels, WhatsApp and Twitter to make sense of who actually is the UP CM-designate. Predictably, I receive a message from XZY saying, “Ma’am, UP mein Yogi Yug start.” I say I’m glad to know that and ask how he is feeling about it. I needn’t have bothered with the caution, because XZY is throwing it to the winds, telling me he is very happy about the news and that he’s planning to join the RSS because he wants to serve the nation. I tell XZY that I’m going to be waiting eagerly for the day when he becomes an MLA or MP. Immediately, he recoils, “No, Ma’am….I don’t want to be MLA or MP…all I want is to serve the nation!!”

Remember, at the beginning of this article, I said the ‘Y’ in this guy’s name is important? It stands for ‘Yadav’ the community that political pundits opine, transferred its vote from its namesakes in the SP to the BJP. This watershed assembly election in the largest state of the country is bound to pave the way for change. To me, one of the best things it has done is make one young man (and perhaps, several others like him) aspire to move from being merely a Yadav towards becoming a yogi who wants to work for the betterment of Bharat. 

To see the magnitude of the mandate, check this out !

Thai Velli Poojai and Blessings

It's 8.10 am as I pick up Amma en route to the temple she's identified for the Thai Velli Naagar poojai. This is a particular form of worship offered to the Snake form of the Lord during the Tamizh month of Thai. In the midst of a concrete jungle like Bengaluru, you don't find live snakes living in anthills; so a temple that houses a tree under which snakes had traditionally lived, will generally have Naaga vigrahaas (idols) made of stone, placed under the tree in a separate area to allow people to offer worship.

I've brought nothing but flowers; the rest all she's taken care of herself because she doesn't want to burden me as I have to rush to college after the poojai.

We enter the temple and make our way to where the Naagar vigrahaas are installed. It’s a little dark in that area and so, I go to request that the lights be switched on. Amma performs the initial purification of the area around the idols by sprinkling water and drawing a tiny rangoli with the white powder taken out of a zip-lock cover. 

Reciting the Mahalakshmi Ashthakam, she anoints the vigrahaas with kumkum and asks me to follow suit. Next, we offer flowers and place a thamboolam (betel leaves, betel nuts, a packet of kumkum-manjal, 2 dried rhizomes of turmeric and 2 banana fruits). We pour the milk little by little over the hood of the Naagar that has been etched into the tree below which the vigrahaas are placed. 

Then, we offer an aarati, praying for the well-being of everyone. I know with certainty that Amma must be saying a few extra prayers asking that her grandson (my son) be blessed with good health.

A lady devotee passing by stands awhile to let us complete the ritual. Then, she offers to the deities the flowers she has brought and looks towards the aarati lamp we’ve placed aside where the camphor still burns bright. I assume she’s wondering if she can also do the aarati, and nod at her to go ahead – after all, aren’t we all bound by the same devotion? And when all belongs to Him, where is the bheda (difference) of “our” aarati and “her” aarati?

As she finishes her worship, I ask her to wait to receive a thamboolam. Amma makes me give it to her and the woman, who I’m sure is older to me, accepts it and suddenly dives to do namaskaar. I hastily step back, trying to tell the lady to do namaskaar to Amma because she’s older, but she persists. 

I look askance at Amma and she quietly nods, as if to say, “It’s ok. Don’t interrupt her.” I’m reminded of what Dr Balasubramaniam said during the Vivekananda Jayanthi a few days ago about how strongly rejecting something is also a manifestation of ego; the truly ego-less are those who are able to stay equanimous even when they receive recognition, calm with the realization that they are but a medium for that to pass to the Divine One who is their rightful recipient.

Having completed the poojai, we do a pradakshinaa and get ready to leave. Amma gives me a little of the left-over milk to be taken home consumed as prasaadam. “Kulanthaikki kudu” (give it to the child), she repeats so that I don’t forget to ensure the prasaadam reaches the no-longer-child-but-wannabe-grown-up-teenager.

As we move away, I feel like taking a picture as a reminder of the hallowed feeling that has enveloped me during these few minutes. 

I’m not given to too much of ritualistic worship, but don’t shy away from it when it has to be done, either. Perhaps the regular practice of chanting the Lord’s Name at all times has been purifying my mind, stripping away from it the need to question the need for rituals, choosing, instead, to see in them yet another way to experience the same spiritual emotion and exalted feeling that comes from the chanting.

Poojai completed, we move out of the temple. I hail a passing auto, we get into it, and manage to confuse the driver with our instructions. I say, “Please go to the left” because I want to drop her to the entrance of the apartment. She tells him, “No, stop here and let me get down, then you go right. I can walk home” because again, that concern about not delaying me for work. 

While I do benefit from the concern she has, born out of herself having pursued a successful career for close to 30-odd years, I have learned now to overrule her on such occasions, and get my way, because the busy roads of Bengaluru city are an equal-opportunity tormenter with no discrimination between old and young.

I reach home, get busy putting together breakfast and tiffin box for myself and the “Kulanthai.” No lunch to be prepared because – yet again – Amma has been the savior, suggesting she will prepare lunch for her kulanthai so that I – yet again – don’t have to overstress.

Like innumerable times before, I pause for a few seconds, saying a heartfelt thanks to God. I wonder if I’ve already done a lot of Thai Velli poojais in some past janmaa. After all, not every woman is fortunate enough to be blessed with such a caring Amma in the form of her husband’s mother !!

Food for the soul

Recently, I went to this place after a relatively long time and was amazed by how it appeared. Of course, I knew that changes were underway but the sheer magnitude and more importantly, the direction of the transformation was a shocker.

A broad, newly tarred road. Imposing buildings on the one side. On the other, commercial joints, cheek by jowl, vying with each other to draw in the most customers. The air in between heavy with the flavours claiming to represent local, national and international cuisine.

If this description makes you think of a food street, you’re not far off the mark. For indeed, it is how some of the inmates of those buildings described their new surroundings. There were some rueful jokes cracked about how, in the near future, this place is going to become famous as a cool hang-out space for gastronomic delights rather than cerebral endeavours. Which seems like quite the anti-thesis of what those in the lofty towers of those buildings say they intend to achieve.

Take a look at these images and then, I’ll explain why I say this.

I certainly understand the compulsions of the persons who conceived and authorized this move. Educational institutions today are behemoths, constantly demanding greater resources to retain their “world-class” tags. And when students come from outside the state and even outside the country, it is vital you strive to provide them with amenities that make them feel comfortable, ensuring word-of-mouth publicity gives you the edge over other institutions.

There’s no questioning of these motives. Just that in my opinion, the manner of executing what is perceived to be the solution, is not really constructive towards achieving the stated aim of an educational institution.

Knowing how extremely distractible students are, I do not really see any wisdom in creating such spaces in a way that the flavors of food for the body constantly assail their senses and mind. When we ourselves provide the diversions to students, aren’t we creating a greater demand on their already low powers of self-restraint? 

With the smell of some exotic dish wafting in through the window, what’s the likelihood that a youngster’s attention will not stray to the rumblings of his stomach and his brain rather than focusing on the Kreb’s cycle or reflex arc his teacher is trying to explain?

Or perhaps, could it be possible that indeed, the world has moved on so far ahead that today, there’s no longer any value left for what Plato said?

Disclaimer: About 10 years ago, I too was a resident of one of the imposing buildings mentioned in this post. Perhaps the memory of what WAS THEN is making what IS NOW more incongruous in my eyes......

Lessons from the Jallikattu saga

I once watched a Tamil movie at the insistence of my son. The story line was not really unique: a hooded and masked vigilante fighting to eradicate the evil powers-that-be responsible for trafficking of women, corruption and terror attacks. However, a scene in the climax of the movie stayed with me, because of the hero’s address to all the people assembled to witness a supposed miracle to be performed by him. Of course I don’t remember the words, so I looked it up online….           

For those who don’t get Tamil, a simple translation:

All of us eat to appease our own hunger, sleep when we’re drowsy and laugh to express our own joy. Yet, when we feel anger, we suppress it and keep waiting for someone else to come and express our outrage. Why????

As I listened to RJ Balaji’s speech at Marina Beach during the peaceful, dignified yet spirited protest against the Jallikattu ban, I felt a stirring of hope. That perhaps, here was the answer to that movie hero’s angst. Finally, it seemed like the people had woken up from the slumber of waiting for some vigilante and decided to act in their own interests.

Yesterday, I listened to 'Hip-Hop Tamizha', Adhi, a musician who was one of the well-known faces of the protest, explain why he had backed out of the Jallikattu agitation. As he spoke of the anti-national hue the protest was taking on, the strongest vibe I caught from his video was one of disbelief that this could actually be happening.

Today, we’ve been told that a #Jallikattu bill has been passed unanimously in the TN assembly. Yet, there was a mindless vandalism that surely could not be the handiwork of simply college-going youngsters who formed the majority of the protesters. It appears like a concerted move to hijack this people’s movement and at this moment of truth, it seems uncannily similar to the plotlines of many a potboiler.

As we take stock of things, it is vital we stay alert. More important is to not grow cynical or lose hope. Unfortunately, whether it is TN or any other state, there are multiple issues that continue to sap at our collective resources. 

Which is why, in a way, this peculiar turn of events in the Jallikattu saga may yet prove to be a blessing in disguise. 

Because, it can teach our youngsters one vital lesson – that in actual life, there is no ONE climax scene to put an end to problems. 

Let’s leave the chutzpah-fuelled dialogues for the movies and keep pressing on to raise a voice when confronted by issues. 

For, in the real world, true grit is what will ultimately decide who wins.