ipsitasharan

[ipsitasharan]

When You Think You ‘Cannot’

When you have come to a conclusion, that you cannot, you have actually thought over the issue so much, that if you just try a little more, may be ‘You Can’.

Thus a ‘cannot estimation’, calls for a lot of endeavour, and just a little more push, can turn it to success.

Well, cannot has a ‘CAN’ in it, for sure.

And when we look at ‘Can-not’, easily, with a little twist of letters, just exchange of two letters – ‘n’ and ‘t’, can interpret it as ‘can ton’ or read ‘can’ forward and ‘not’ backwards thus ‘Cannot’ can become ‘can ton’ i.e. ‘Can, tons of times’.

[ipsitasharan]

The Potter

God creates humans. He is the potter. His pots are not machine-made, therefore, are unique, some pots are just fine, some extremely nice, others have flaws. He then packs the pots with sand. In some pots, the sand is smooth, and in some it’s of small-dusty texture, in others the sand is rough, while the sand is of quite granular consistency in a few pots.

Sand is like our fate, smooth and happening for some, slightly rough for others and tricky (granular) for the rest. Sometimes the sand has small stones in it, some stones are larger. The stones denote problems in life, small or large, rock-tough and crushing, at times.

Looking back at life, I realize, the sand God filled in the pot that I am, was undoubtedly smooth but the stones in it were tough and took a lot of time to disintegrate, A few remained as they were, some broke into small pebbles while, a few stones crushed completely to a powdery form, unidentifiable.

Everyone has sand in himself /herself. Sand represents the amount of good luck and convenience in life. The problems are in various sizes- micro-mini, pebble- sized or larger. Some make their presence felt most slightly, a few ease out, but leave back indelible marks, yet some, remain all through life, never to go away.

When I was younger, the focus was on the stones, the rocks, the pebbles. But with age, the importance of sand has increased. Sand is the essence of life. The amount of sand determines life itself.

God, The Potter, The Architect, The Creator, The Planner and The Executor, has the true picture of everyone’s fate.  

Accepting whatever comes one’s way, is the best way.

[ipsitasharan]

My Revered Shrine

The toughest part of a teacher’s job is the three and a half hours long invigilation duty, especially during board exams when students from other schools come to write the CBSE exams and every room in the school premises is opened up to accommodate the examinees. During one such March morning, I reached this unused room near the Physics Lab for invigilation.

The first quarter is the busiest time with filling up of details, taking attendance and signatures. When the students are not academically sound, the invigilator has a tough time restraining them from cunningly seeking the answers from friends. It is a cat-and-mouse game.  But if the examinees are well-prepared and keep writing seriously, the invigilator doesn’t know what to do and boredom sets in.

On this day, I was just preparing myself to kill time. I glanced out of the large grey windows .The soothing hues of the verdant football field and the thick foliage around it, caught my attention. I unconsciously started counting the number of shades of fresh green. Then there were those with a tinge of yellow and others slightly brown. Why some were dark in the shadow, almost black, and not to forget the new born leaves which looked transparent in the bright sunlight, fluorescent green.

My mind thus occupied, I found myself sitting with my back against the chair. The teacher’s chair was extremely comfortable. But I realized it was not a typical teacher’s chair of today. It was an old one, the typical ‘Grandfather’s Chair’, with arm rests and a high back.  I left the chair and looked at it with growing interest. The back had a beautiful carved design. The varnish still had a shimmer. The wood must have been of excellent quality and almost maintenance-free. It was a real beauty.

Thoughts came flooding in. Ours is a school with a history of 160 years. How old was this chair, then? I could visualize an Irish brother in his Cossack. Was he a wise Mathematical wizard, a creative Art instructor, a friendly Language teacher or a strict Sports trainer? This chair would certainly add to the personality of the teacher.

As students, the alumni of this glorious institution must have saluted their revered teachers and in the process bowed to the chair itself.

I was pulled of my reverie by the warning bell. My co-invigilator chided me for being lost in thought so deep and not responding to her. How time had flown!

This chair had a grip on me and whenever possible, I would go into the room, usually unused but regularly cleaned. This became the venue for practice for students put under my care. The room had such a positive aura that even the students loved staying there.

I was by now a regular visitor to this room. One day, I was caught in a big dilemma. I had been put in charge of an Inter School Debate Competition. Rohit and Anu had been selected for the same. Both were working very hard. Unfortunately, just two days before the competition, Rohit came down with chicken- pox. What could be done? Om a boy of the same class volunteered to fill in the gap. But Abhinav was my next choice. We had won some prizes, but Om was an ordinary speaker.  Time was running out. Such a delicate situation. In the recess I felt an urge to go up to my little shrine. I quietly sat on the hoary chair and implored my predecessors, the wise men who had used the chair to guide me.

Gradually my thoughts found clarity. Om having volunteered, would put in his heart and soul while Abhinav would work in obedience. He might feel like a second fiddle for not being selected before.  Om would certainly feel privileged for this chance to prove himself.

Om performed excellently. Anu was a great orator and our team won. I got the credit for managing the crisis so well though I wholeheartedly thanked the chair for leading me onto the path of wisdom.

The chair became a shrine for me. Whenever in doubt, I sought its help and gratefully bowed in gratitude for all my triumphs.

On the day of my retirement, among all the other things about school I thought I would miss, the ebony black grandfather’s chair was not on the list for this was my revered shrine and I had embossed it in my heart.

[ipsitasharan]

Hope never dies

Years roll by

Scenes change

Yet the heart remains the same.

 You aim, you try, you achieve

Sometimes as per your expectations

Sometimes beyond it, sometimes below it,

Yet the heart remains the same.

 The heart is full of hope,

Desires, wishes create dreams.

These aims and goals may

Vary as per age.

Starts with toys, then good grades,

A respectable job, an understanding spouse,

An attractive child, steady increment,

A remarkable holiday, an award or two,

Ultimately,  a painless, peaceful death.

 Yet the heart remains the same

Hopeful, forever.

 A set -back, in due course of time, heals,

Creating numerous, novel thoughts and ideas.

Success presents a heady mix of victory and respect:

A one-year old when he starts toddling,

A schoolboy who wins a medal,

A youth who gets his appointment letter,

Or when his love is requited,

A grandparent when he holds the newly born,

Or when on recovery, a patient leaves the hospital.

 A gesture, a smile, a nod, a bow

May bring back a ray of hope,

An adverse situation might vanish

With the flash of a silver lining

For the heart remains the same.

 And hope never dies.

Seeing an octogenarian parent on the ventilator

The child continues to expect a miracle recovery

Well-wishers still enquire, “Any improvement?”

This positive expectation is ‘Life’.

Life goes on, hope never ends

For the heart remains the same.

So, physically the heart may weaken

But emotions remain stout and true

As long as the heart is alive and agile,

Reign dreams of a successful and joyful life,

For the heart remains the same till the last breath.

[ipsitasharan]

Life is Good

Patna was a new town for me. My initial excitement at being appointed a Probationary Officer in a reputed bank had somewhat ebbed me with this posting. But once in Patna, Mr Banerjee, my senior and his wife made me feel quite comfortable. I found a flat close to his house. We had a good time together. The neighbours were too friendly, especially the Chatterjee family. Mrs Chatterjee had unofficially adopted me as her son and her daughters were images of beauty with brains.

I liked Rita, the eldest one, the best. She was a lively girl, open and friendly. She was pursuing Graduation. She filled the slot of my girl. She went for many picnics trips to movies and get togetherness. I was an of Mr Banerjee’s family and often invited as such to the Chatterjee home. 

Rita, I knew liked me. Her body language spoke, her eyes flashed the flame. Life was nice for three years and then I got a transfer. I never told her my feelings, neither did she.                                          

 Mr Banerjee stayed in Patna for another three years. One day inquiring about the Chatterjee’s family I learnt that Rita had just got married, married to a family friend, a marriage of choice – not me? I was stunned, broken, beaten.                 

Face book, Whats apps, modern gadgets... Useless, a waste of time... Yet a colleague made my ids. I never bothered to look into them, but sometimes as a bored middle-aged bachelor, I just indulged. One day a message popped – “Are you the same Shahid Bhaiya from Patna, from such and such Bank?” It was Rita’s sister Meeta, after so many years. Thus began the second phase of the interaction. 

It was a huge shock for Rita to know that I was still a bachelor. How could I adjust with anyone else when my mind and soul belonged to that lively, sweet girl? My dear mother, my relatives had been so annoyed as I could not appreciate any match they brought me.

Now it was my turn to gape in stupefaction. Rita had lost her husband to a heart attack. She was a single mother. Her son was now studying at an Engineering college.

Though I regret every moment of those 10 years when Rita was alone, unhappy, balancing her roles as a mother, a teacher and a young widow, I feel God is kind to me for he has brought me back to my love.

Now we are the best of friends. We talk every evening and whenever the need be. We have met a number of times along with her family and only son.

During the last meeting when I presented her with a diamond ring and slid it onto her delicate finger, that very moment I felt married to her.

This marriage is a bonding of our hearts. Though we stay miles apart, Rita, her son and I are a family, beyond the barriers of distance, religion and society. 

Life is good. 

(All the characters and events depicted are fictitious. Any resemblance to a person living or dead is purely coincidental.)

[ipsitasharan]

The Tenets for a Happy Life

Human beings, rich or poor, old or young, black or white, in warm overalls or cool shorts, all have one focal point, to be happy in life. A person is constantly in search of the correct equation to reach his/ her goal. Over the years, I have narrowed down to a few attributes of happiness. Let me share with you five tenets of a happy life.

SUSTAINABLE HAPPINESS:   The modern world is agog with the term ‘sustainable development’. This is in reference to the green world. Sustainable happiness is long-lasting. Happiness is sustained when an action brings joy to your heart whenever you think of it, it is not restricted to you alone, but transcends through the people around, and makes you, your friends, relatives , your society and also your country proud of your deeds. Sustainable happiness breaks all barriers of time and space. This is what everyone should aim for.

LIVE THE PRESENT: In the famous poem ‘Psalm of life’  H W Longfellow sagaciously says:

Trust no future however pleasant

Let the dead past bury its dead

Act, act in the living present

Heart within, and God overhead.

The focus of everyone should be the present, neither is it worthwhile to bask in the glory of yesterday or yesteryears, nor is it wise to fret over the future. The present is alive and ticking. Make the best use of the present with faith in God’s eternal support for good deeds.

‘Karmanyev adhikarasti maa faleshukadachana’ is the ideal guiding light for all. There is no need to run to astrologers and fortunetellers, focus more on the two ‘P’s –‘Practice’ and ‘Patience’. When one puts in the best, God definitely supports him/her.

HEALTH IS WEALTH:  A healthy mind resides in a healthy body. If the body is ailing, one cannot give his best and in the long run faces disappointment. The life of the great scientist Dr Stephen Hawkins (and others like him) can be considered exceptions. Despite very poor health, he achieved so much. Imagine what he might have contributed to the world had he been of sound health!

A healthy body is an invaluable gift of God and it is the primary duty of each one to take good care of his/her health. Let exercise be an integral part of your daily routine. An eye on a healthy diet is a must. Feasting, now and then, is a joy when juxtaposed with a regular meal of balanced diet.

CONFIDENCE AND STABILITY:  Take time to select your goals. Ponder over the pros and cons, judge wisely and set up your targets. Once decided, do not waver from your aim. Detractors are found everywhere. Do not indulge in casual suggestions. They might confuse you, ruin your focus and puncture your confidence. Be stable and march ahead on your chosen path. Do not oscillate like a pendulum from one option to another, wasting time.

LIVE AND LET LIVE:  Live your life the way you choose and respect the decisions made by others about theirs. Live joyfully and let others enjoy their lives in their own way. In other words- Do not interfere in the affairs of others. Advise only when help is sought. Don’t thrust your opinions on others. Revere people’s right to defend their individual decisions. Whatever one does should be inclusive of the happiness of people around. Raising the volume of the sound system may be pleasurable to a few, but the cause of irritation to others in the vicinity. Build a joyful world around you spreading laughter and mirth.

The target, off course, is happiness for one and all, glittering eyes and sweet smiles, here, there and everywhere.

(Originally published  in St. Michael’s Annual magazine ‘SCAN 2019’)

[ipsitasharan]

The Dear Dying Wrist-Watch

Watching over generations Guiding each hour, Planning every minute; For the world, entire.

Second by second Controlling Fate’s hand, How does the dear wrist-watch Fleetingly time catch?

A wrist-watch was once A rare, marvelous piece. The aristocrats possessed it, The poor in awe did submit.

As legacy, some watches Went down generations, Causing bitter matches; To inherit the rare creations.

The advent of the electric one Made wrist-watches great fun, Now rates and designs would vary; But a watch, every wrist did carry.

For a lady, a wrist-watch Does more than an hourly chime. Adorns, as a locket or bracelet, While sincerely reporting time; Exhibits bands of silver and gold And precious jewels, grand and bold.

Yet, today, the little watch, Has lost its charm and shimmer; For many consider it unnecessary Mobile phones have ruined its glamour.

Now why calculate the time? When even a child of four Checks... Hour, minute and second Flash clearly and try options galore?

With wrist-watches becoming optional The wrists look bare and cold, Creating a sad vacant patch Remembering the days of yore!

When watches every person wore. Yet, some loyalists are of the view, That their darling wrist-watch Will keep time forever, as good as new.

The wrist-watch is just one of many Gadgets and tools, assistants in daily chores, Which today have changed greatly Almost losing their original glow.

But transformation and modification Are inevitable and in they will flow. Gracefully accept evolution, With all its vagaries and blows. Yet, revere the original version For old is (always) GOLD.

[ipsitasharan]

True Education

From its very inception, Tatanagar  (Jamshedpur) has been a hub of engineers, officers and managers. Every factory has its own colony for employees. There was prosperity, growth, peace and in the 1950s, a sense of well being among the residents.

There lived a family of nine members in the disciplined town of Jamshedpur. Mr M had two sons and five younger daughters. The eldest daughter Ananya had just completed her schooling and had been admitted to the Girls’ College for the Intermediate course.

The huge extended family of Mr M also resided in Jamshedpur as two brothers of the paterfamilias and a couple of cousins also worked in the same town and they all had great fun together. During the winter, Nirmala, Mr M's only sister visited the town and needless to say had a gala time meeting her relatives.

Among other things, she enquired of her brother his wedding plans for her dearest niece. She had broached the topic, she said because  Ananya was now sixteen. She nagged her brother trying to convince him that if he did not start groom-hunting immediately, it would be impossible for him to marry off his 5 daughters during his tenure in office. But, Mr M did not pay any heed to her suggestion.

Soon the doting aunt Nirmala sent the details of Aditya, a suitable match for Ananya. Aditya was a professor like his father. The name of Aditya’s father brought back old memories in Mr M, Aditya’s father was none other than his favourite guide and mentor in college who was not only his Mathematics teacher but also his coach while playing football. There were no questions to be asked about the suitor, Mr M’s reverence for his teacher had stitched up his lips.

Mrs G, a neighbour of  Mr M, now came forth to reveal that her nephew was deeply interested in marrying Ananya whom he had seen during a visit to his aunt. He hailed from a reputed family of businessmen. An attractive proposal it was especially for Mrs M who did not want her ‘ sister-in-law’ to brag about the wonderful match she had suggested, all her life.

 This was a catch 20 situation. Her wise father sorted out the issue by putting the ball in Ananya’s court, indirectly. He called Ananya and in front of his wife and brothers asked her quite casually, “Which Goddess do you pray to more often Maa Lakshmi or Maa Saraswati?” Unaware that Maa Saraswati was used as a symbol for Aditya, a professor and the successful businessman was coded as Maa Lakshmi, Ananya promptly proclaimed, “ Maa Saraswati”. Her IA first year exams were fast approaching and she needed the blessings of the Goddess of knowledge more than anything else.

Mrs M lost her case. Ananya was happy to marry a professor of English with the expectation that her problem of getting notes for her English Syllabus was now over. Yet, she was apprehensive, what if he spoke to her in English, all the time?

The wedding was full of joy and festivity for she was the first granddaughter getting married, both from her maternal and paternal side. During the most charming ritual of ‘ Shubho Drishti’, the exchange of glances between the bride and the groom for the first time, the sixteen-year-old Ananya, felt she was looking at Lord Narayan standing before her. A bond of respect and love was struck immediately.

As the festivities ended, it slowly dawned to Ananya that all was not well with her mother-in-law. But those days were buzzing with activities. The newly-weds had to visit many friends and relatives for Aditya had to soon leave for another town to attend to his duties at the college where he was posted.

The day of Aditya’s departure was a nightmare for Ananya. She had already developed a great affection for her husband who was not only handsome but equally caring. His wisdom impressed her. He sang beautifully. He was a good cricketer and also played tennis. She was a coy, happy teen-wife. But staying away from her husband until he returned to her on Saturdays was not her only sorrow. Bidding farewell to her husband, as she entered the house she heard her mother-in-law howling, exclaiming that Aditya, her husband, was dead. Horrified, she ran to the little shrine at the north-east corner of the house to pray.

She noticed that her father-in-law and all the servants who consoled her were quite used to the statements her mother-in-law made. She was initially confused, then the truth started unveiling itself, shedding the layers gradually, sadly. Her mother-in-law was certainly insane.

She could not believe that her father had done this to her. She was equally angry with this much-revered Mathematician, an author of books on Astronomy, Statics and Dynamics, her father’s honourable professor, now her father-in-law. Her wrath for her husband knew no end. She felt no qualms in calling him a cheat, a traitor who had betrayed her. She wept her heart out and did not know when slumber had lulled her to deep sleep.

In the morning her father-in-law called her to his room. Her mother-in-law was quite normal now, though quite restless. Mr C told her how upset he had been the previous night when he saw his only daughter-in-law in such trauma.

What he said next was a huge shock for Ananya. He saluted her for her courage to agree to marry into a household like his. He also promised to help her in every possible way, always.

Ananya quietly went back to her room. She felt dazed. When had she agreed to marry a man whose mother was mad? Who would ever do that? Was she a mad-cap? How did this person get this crazy belief that she was aware of Aditya’s mother’s condition at the time of marriage?  Living with a mad woman, he was also losing his senses.

Those were not the days of quick communication, no land phones except in offices, official residences and rich men’s homes. Mobile phones were half a century away. She could not clarify the facts with her father immediately. She would have to write to him, tell him what had happened and wait for his response. She was severely depressed and could not get herself to even write a line.

The days of the week rolled on sadly and very slowly. When Aditya came home, the pent-up emotions, the hurt and pain, poured out like a volcano. Between angry outbursts and tears, she well conveyed the accusations that Aditya’s family had cheated her and her father for she was sure that her father would not have pushed her into this hell, knowingly.

Now it was Aditya who was taken aback. On hearing of the proposal from Nirmala, the wife of his younger brother, Mr C had asked her to convey to Mr M clearly, about the state in which Mrs C had been since she had lost her elder son in a road accident when Anand was just sixteen and Aditya only ten. It was her fear of losing her  (now) only son that often prompted her to behave in an erratic manner. Ananya did not realize that tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. She understood the trauma of the ten-year-old Aditya, who had not only lost a loving brother but a caring mother too. She vividly visualized Aditya’s painful childhood and contrasted it with her joyful days at Jamshedpur.

She now knew that the culprit was none other than Nirmala, her only aunt. She knew equally well what a shock it would be to her father to read all the sad details of her life in her in-laws home. She decided she would not tell her father anything about her mother-in-law in her future correspondence.

Soon Ananya realized that she was pregnant. When she regained stability after the initial complications, her doctor advised her not to go to Jamshedpur for the delivery as it involved changing trains and waiting for several hours at the railway station to board the next train.

Her desire to appear for the Intermediate exams was shattered. Within a span of three and a half years, she became the mother of three lovely daughters. Aditya and she decided to give the best of education and exemplary upbringing to them. In the meantime, Aditya had started teaching in a local college and the sole purpose of his family was to groom the daughters into three sensible and independent ladies.

The next twenty years passed almost in a wink. Education, music lessons, sports training, the parents and the grandpa put in their best. The results were undoubtedly joyous as the girls not only excelled in academics but were all-rounders, smart and disciplined. Yet, off and on, Ananya felt annoyed that she was not supported by her husband in pursuing her degrees.

Now that the girls were grown up, married and busy with their families and jobs, Ananya would in a pensive mood recall her early days in marriage and keep contemplating that her decision to choose Maa Saraswati was in vain, her learned husband and father-in-law did not care about her education.

After retirement, Mr and Mrs C shifted to Kolkata. In their new neighbourhood, the couple was well respected for their simple living and high thinking. Both spent their time together visiting flower exhibitions, going to theatres and enjoying tourist spots. Their daughters and their families made short trips to Kolkata to check on them. Life was good and smooth except for those pangs in  Ananya’s heart for not studying to her heart’s desire and she bore a grudge deep within, against her husband. She did not want to take up a job, ever. It would also not be practical with her in-laws and three daughters to take care of. To be a graduate would be nice, a postgraduate, even better. But, alas….

Life has its own plan. And Ananya lost her partner for 56 years. Recovering from the initial despondence, Ananya took a grip on her duties. She felt it was her responsibility now to maintain all that her husband had created so lovingly and painstakingly.

She now paid her bills all by herself, went to the municipal office to clear the taxes and visited banks to manage her accounts. She planned her tasks meticulously and completed them independently.

On one such trip to the bank, she was seated in the manager’s cabin to sign some papers, a woman almost of the same age, came into the cubicle much distressed. Once she had calmed down, she narrated her plight. On the death of her husband, her nephew took care of the financial matters and the crook had slyly pilfered a lot of money. “What is the use of being a graduate? My husband never explained money matters to me. He pampered me and gave me whatever amount I asked for. See my state today. I am like a lost lamb,” she lamented.

Suddenly Ananya realized what her husband had done for her. He had given her practical knowledge, guided her with information and trained her to lead a life of confidence.

As Ananya went back home, she felt blessed. Entering her flat, she felt overwhelmed with emotions and sitting down before her husband’s photograph, thanked him for the tips to lead an independent life. Now, she learnt the meaning of true education. Degrees are mere sheets of paper, practical knowledge leads to wisdom, which develops confidence within and helps a person to be truly educated.

(All the characters and events depicted are fictitious. Any resemblance to a person living or dead is purely coincidental.)