Gerald D'Cunha

    I need not know, why there is such a deafening roar Near the sea shore; I need not know, why, sometimes, meteors fall; I need not know, why my brother laughs when I brood, Why the sun burns and I cry; I need not know, why someone loves a sword When I love a pen… I need to know this: Everything is important, everyone counts! I had scribbled this Note – call ‘Poem’ if you wish - in my diary some fifteen years ago. Then, after five years or so, when I was putting together some of my Notes to publish, this Note, this poem, popped up like a Genie in the bottle… and stood before be! So, it became the title of the book: ‘Why The Sun Burns!” I began my Introduction with this poem…  It still haunts me! Why some things, in Life, happen the way they do?   Why some people come in our lives the way they do? Why sometimes dreams… and why sometimes nightmares? Why this uproar in my soul, why this silence… som

Alexander-the-Great, after his fathers’ untimely assassination, was destined to become the Emperor of Macedonia. He was only twenty! And, before he died at the young age of thirty-three, he had almost conquered the whole world! Alexander-the-Great did not die fighting in the fierce battle-field… He did not fall by the sword of another mighty emperor. The conqueror-of-the-whole-world died in his tent… He died of Malaria… Yes, a mosquito brought this invincible conqueror’s end, his relentless conquest! The legend goes, before he breathed his last, Alexander-the-Great had called his General by his death-bed and expressed his final wish. “May my both hands dangle out my coffin as I am carried,” the Emperor had wished. And, the legend also goes, that the wish was carried out…! “Let the whole world know, that the Great conqueror-of- the-entire-world, also, had to leave behind everything that he had conquered… and go back with his empty han

  Some weeks ago, I happened to meet a close relative of mine in one of our family functions. About twenty years ago, after completing his graduation in Mangalore, he had just landed in this big city, Mumbai, to find his own place. Like we all migrants had been and are – this relative of mine was very unpolished and naive. I had helped him to find his first job. It was a very small office where he had to work under the ‘lone’ staff who had been happy working alone for years! My relative wanted an entry, something to start with and get the hands-on experience. So, he joined this office.    My relative could stick on to this office – rather his one-and-only Boss – barely for a month! Why… What happened? The one who owned this firm was too busy - rather, too helpless - to know what was happening in his small organization. The person employed by him had become an island and created a web-sort-of work-atmosphere around him. The owner would blindly trust th

I was reading Amitabh Bachchan’s blog last afternoon. Like me, he too is an avid Blogger… I must’ve committed a 'crime' by saying – “Like me!!!” It is like comparing a mouse with a Dinosaur… or, a molehill with the Mount Everest. So, before, I become a laughing stock, let me place myself where I belong: I too blog, the way the mighty Bachchan sir does! And, if I say Amitabh Bachchan is a busy man, I would be an even bigger laughing stock! Still, he blogs every day, for years on… He writes in the middle of the night… In the early hours of the day… in the middle of his busy afternoon schedule… whenever, wherever… But, he blogs, everyday, without fail.  In one of his latest posts, he – may be for the billionth time in his life – recites a poem of his dad, Shri. Harivanshrai Bachchan. Yes, from the classic – ‘Madushala’.  Amitabh Bachchan keeps saying – and over and over again – that he can not be even a shadow of h

This morning, I had left home at 7.45. As usual, like everyone else, I too was in a hurry. I got into the first waiting auto and off I was towards my workplace. Just some distance had gone by, there was a sudden commotion a few yards ahead… a motorcycle had fallen right in the middle of the busy street, its wheel still running in full speed, a few steps away lay, on the street, one of its occupants, maybe the one who was riding it, and next to him, in great pain, lay another young man, probably the one who was sitting behind. Their bags were tossed to the sides, the lunch boxes had spilled out their contents… There were a few currency notes scattered here and there... and their ID cards, as well.  My auto was just some distance behind… What was miraculous was: a BEST bus had come to a standstill just an inch away from the motorbike! The bus driver seemed to be in a daze… and, even from that distance, I could read what was going on in his min

  During the last twenty years, I must have met this man – a very intelligent man – at least twenty-scores times… And, every time I meet him, I am bound to hear from him about one thing: his book! “I am writing a book – an inspiring Novel… It is almost ready,” he had told me this when I had met him for the first time. Yes, that was twenty years ago. Today, just an hour ago, I met him, once again… and, this man told me exactly the same thing: “… My book is almost ready!” This man, now 70, is still writing his inspiring Novel. It is almost ready! I have told you, that this man is incredibly intelligent and capable. Writing a book, for this man, should not take such a long time. So, every time I hear this man’s famous confession – the latest up-date on his book – I smile in my heart. “Why is the Novel not coming out? Why, for twenty years, it is ‘almost ready’?” I ask myself. Honestly, I wonder, if this man has ever written even a line… let alone ‘i

In my last post, I had used a very old statement: “Wherever you go, you carry yourself.” “What did you mean by that?” A friend of mine asked me, last night.  For the last two weeks, this friend of mine, along with his wife, has been busy planning for the summer holidays. Just another week, the family will be off on a ten-day trip to Kashmir. A lot of preparation has been going on… right from surfing on the Net, calling tour agents, cross checking with friends and strangers who have already been to Kashmir... to arranging for funds, haggling on the package, the hotels and the food. Along the process, a lot of heat is generated at home – there are disagreements between husband and wife, the young daughter has different perspective altogether… there are loud arguments and sulking.  The holiday is just about to take off. My friend is going to Kashmir… with his family…  Last night, I asked him, “Why?” He had asked me

 “Sir, Relax! Easy.” My dentist would tell me, invariably, always. “Loosen up, sir… You are too tensed… Relax… Easy!” And, by the time I had loosened up, the drilling would be over! The pain just didn’t exist! “Easy does it!” And, Easy does it, always! Easy did it when I was a small baby… I just went about my world laughing, crying, messing and breaking… I went about singing and dancing… I went about falling and rising. I was loose as leaves and light as feathers… I spoke like Demosthenes… sang like Bryan Adams and danced like Michael Jackson!  Who said I was afraid of stage? Who said I had self-doubts? Who? Yes, when I was easy, I did it! Easy did it when I was a little older… I played with my friends… and, I fought with them, too many times. Still, before the Sun went down by the same evening, I was back with my friends in the playground! Who said we fought? Who said the world had enemies