Sunday, September 30, 2012


Well, I may, most religiously, try not to put another person down… belittle him by proving him wrong. But, I can’t stop him from doing it to me.

The need to prove another person wrong can be a chronic sickness. Mostly, it stems from our own insecurity… Yes, our low self-esteem.

When the other person says something, what is my mind doing? When the other person achieves something, when he is praised or awarded for his achievements, what is my heart doing?

Do I have to disagree with each and everything the other person says? Do I need to register my point every time the other person drops his hat? What do I get by scoring a point over the other man… by proving him wrong?

Once, a scholar wanted to prove before everyone, that Birbal, who was Emperor Akbar’s favorite minister, was a hoax. So, he threw a challenge before Birbal. 

“Birbal, you claim yourself to be a wise-man,” taunted the scholar, “can you tell me how many crows live in Agra?”

A grim silence fell over the packed courtroom. Even Emperor’s face suddenly wore a worried look. “How would Birbal know the answer?” … “In fact, how would any one?”

“You will have your answer by tomorrow morning, sir,” Birbal announced, absolutely unnerved by the challenge.

The court was adjourned for the day.

After everyone had left, the worried Akbar called his darling minister aside and said, “Birbal, how will you answer him, tomorrow?”

“Don’t you worry, Badshah," Birbal calmed his Emperor down, "he will have his answer, as I promised.”

The next morning, when the court assembled, everyone seemed anxious, but not Birbal.

“So, Birbal, do have the answer?” the scholar asked with concealed arrogance. He was just waiting to ‘expose’ Birbal before the court.

“Seventy-thousand-eight-hundred-and-ninety-nine!” declared the confident Birbal without even blinking!

The courtroom was shocked! Akbar raised his eyebrows!

“How can you be so sure?” the scholar was taken aback!

“I have personally counted,” was Birbal’s blunt answer, “You can check yourself.”

“What if the actual number is more than what you have just stated?” argued the scholar.

“Oh, that would simply mean that some crows from other cities have come to Agra to visit their relatives,” Birbal put forward his brilliant logic!

“And, what if the actual count is less?” the scholar tried to hook Birbal with that.

“Very clear, sir,” concluded our Birbal, “it would mean that some crows from our city have gone out of station to visit their dear ones!”

“Only fools and fanatics are so sure of themselves!”… Yes, it is, often, said. But, Birbal was a ‘wise fool’. The arrogant scholar was a real one; a fanatic, too!

Just this morning, while I was with a group of people, a middle-aged man narrated this Akbar-Birbal story. Almost all of us knew it by-heart. Barely the man had started, “We know that story; even our little children know it!” one of the group members snapped. Others laughed. The man with the story sulked…

“What do we get by putting some one down?”

 I wondered, 

“Why are we robbing someone 

of his simple joy?”

The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes to me: We need to possess a healthy self-esteem not to do such things!


Pics.: Supriya Chavan

Saturday, September 29, 2012


Hooo… teri bhakti ka vardaan hai
Jo kamaye vo dhanvaan hai
Bin kinare ki kashti hai vo..
Deva tujhse jo anjaan hai…

it's the boon of devotion for you,
who earns (this devotion) is rich..
(while) he is a boat with no shore,
who does not know you…

It was a packed batch, late evening, yesterday… I still had one more batch to go. I was in my best flow and everything was going well, except these three boys… the perennial trouble makers!

After almost thirty-six years of teaching college kids (including teaching while still in college), I was no stranger to the restlessness, mischief, nuisance – whatever you call it – of some students. Yes, you can not expect all students to be equally nice… the basket does contain one or two bad apples.

But, as they say, those one or two are enough to spoil the entire basket!

It was happening in my class, last evening. In fact, it was happening for quite some time. I have been gently, tactfully and firmly dealing with these three young ones all this time. They hailed from affluent families… two of them were repeating their year… One of them had done his schooling in one of the best boarding schools… and, here were they, now, with me… Their parents, hoping to see some miracle under my tutelage!

Yes, as I told you, I have dealt with even the worst, the most hopeless cases over all these years. I do not distinguish, brand or condemn my students… even though they come about as spoilt brats or the so-called perennial trouble-makers. Yes, I believe, the bad apples may have something good about them… I try to save them. Yes, I do.

But then, the way you go about dealing with these kids can not be the conventional one. You need to get down to their level, at times, use their very-own  lingo to stir them, touch them, provoke them… use crude words, even!

Last evening, I did. I had, already, spent almost three-fourth of my lecture, and I had exhausted all my conventional weapons… Then, as a last resort, I deployed the ‘brahmastra: my anger… the fire!

The impact of the anger could be deadly! Sometimes, it can backfire, badly. In a packed classroom, if you target young ones like these, they may not take it lying down… they may go on the offensive… even though you, the teacher, have the best of the reasons to say and do what you like. Yes, your brahmastra can boomerang!

Luckily, mine did not! I was lucky to get away with it. Perhaps, the goodness of my heart must have overshadowed the crudeness of my words. The young ones must have felt it…

The class went on even better, after that…

But, I had charged the atmosphere with an eerie silence… and, I knew, like Hiroshima, I had won the war… but, probably – I do not know – probably, might have lost the battle, last evening!

I had one more batch after that. The fire was still burning…

At nine, when I wound up, I was left drained…

Had I lost the battle?

Was the path of fire – the agni-path – 

the right path? 

Could I have avoided it? 

Why am I so restless, now? 

What about those young kids… 

Did I save them or lose them? 

Did I help them or cause more harm?

I very, very rarely use so much fire in my class… My heart was still burning!

In the darkness, as I was walking my way back home, mind clouded with such unrest, I heard the familiar beats of ‘Deva Shree Ganesha ‘song from ‘Agneepath’ movie. It was coming from a nearby Ganesh pandal… I found myself overpowered by the beats and the rhythm… the tempo, the movement, the power… so much so, I saw myself moved completely… my heart was experiencing a new silence midst that deafening, frantic and  overpowering ambiance  I just stood there, in one corner, all by myself… and allowed the rhythm of this amazing song to sink deep in. Even after the song got over, I did not move from that place, for some time1

I am a die-hard fan of Amitabh Bachchan. (and his great poet-father Shri. Harivansh Rai Bachchan). But, I had decided not to watch his ‘Agneepath’. I did not like that kind of fire, which calls you to ‘avenge your past’… I am, also, very fond of Hritik Roshan. So, reluctantly, I had watched this second take on ‘Agneepath’ along with my wife. It was the late night show… I still remember how we both were left disturbed that night!

Even though, my soul has loads and loads of anger within, and even though, like a volcano, it erupts, sometimes… I just cannot bring myself to take that oath: walk the path of fire… Kar shapath, kar shapath, kar shapath… Agneepath, agneepath, agneepat!

So, here I was, on another night… standing there all alone, left all disturbed… but, mysteriously, being calmed down by a song from the very movie, which, just some months ago, had left me so disturbed!


And, now, as I write this Post, this afternoon, I hear, from all around me - near and far, all over -  the beats of the song, all over again… It is the eleventh day, the day of the final visarjan…There is a profound silence within… the fire is doused… the Elephant God, the darling of millions, is being taken on his final journey… How ironical, how mysterious all these things can be: Ganpati Bappa morya… Pudchya varshi loukar yaa!

Yes, why we need fire to worship our Gods… this shall always remain a mystery to me!
And, why I need to go through this path of fire… this test of fire… in order to experience His grace, His touch, in my soul… yes, this, too.

Lord, have mercy!!!


Pics.: Prakash Nayak

Friday, September 28, 2012


A very qualified young man , who had been well-employed for many years, lost his job a year ago. I met him yesterday, and I was surprised: he hasn’t still found another!

This young man is in his late thirties… Not married yet. Though lives in his parental house, he needs a job to run the house… I wondered as to how he could manage!

As I was talking to him, the young man gave me at least half-a-dozen reasons as to why he was not getting a job, now: the job market was bad; the Companies were down-sizing; they were not ready to pay what he was demanding; the previous Company bosses and colleagues were conspiring against him; the prospective employers were asking him to take up assignment at a place not of his choice; he wasn’t getting the job of his taste… timings; salary; people… etc., etc.

Fair enough. Still, for almost a year, a young, qualified man not getting a decent job under the Sun was not something that I was able to digest easily. Something was wrong the way this young, qualified and experienced man looked at himself, others and Life.

I was neither a professional adviser, nor was any advice solicited from me. On the contrary, for those fifteen minutes or so, I was given strong justifications as to why there were no jobs in the market… why there was something wrong, ‘there – outside’!

After the young man left, I began to think.  I was not convinced by his justifications – which, any way, would never ever help change the reality for him. I knew, there was something wrong, ‘here – inside his mind’! … Yes, the way he looked at himself, at others… and Life.

I wish to end this Post without getting into any ‘postmortem’ of this case… For now, I just want to leave you with the thought, which I have just presented. I will do it, once again:

“There was something wrong, 

‘here – inside his mind’! … 

Yes, the way he looked at himself, 

at others… and Life!”

And, to what I said thrice in this Post, may this ancient wisdom be added, too:

"All things in Life manifest twice:
Once, inside... and, once, outside!"


Pics.: Hariprasad

Thursday, September 27, 2012


When did you last hear the old saying, “Familiarity breeds contempt”?

Well, I just used it in my reply to Yojana in her FB message box.

When I was just a young-and-raw teacher and had joined a Junior college to teach, I was very self-conscious. No doubt, the young teachers get a massive fanfare… but, in my case, it would make me very scared. Oh that shyness cocoon! I haven’t still come out of it! You know, though we love the kick of limelight and adoration of our fans, at the end of the day, it is only the closeness with our own hearts… yes, that alone we all, seriously, take to bed! 

I am very happy to have found, in my early days of teaching, such fabulous colleagues and students. The warmth, support and guidance which I received in those days – my struggling days – were very, very important… I still cherish those memories in my heart… I shall, always, look back on this, with a deep sense of gratitude. 

Yojana was a twelfth-standard Science student. A bubbly, never-say-bored young girl. Though I was a Commerce teacher, I always had this big gang of Science students endlessly making a huge buzz around me. Yojana was one of them.

I taught in this College just for a year or so, where I had joined as an ‘ad-hoc’ teacher. When my term got over, I quietly made my exit. 

That was some thirty-two/thirty-three years ago!

What this Commerce teacher did after that… and, what this Science student did after that… well, neither of the two knew. 

Now, after all these years, (I was just some twenty-something when I joined that college) FB has brought us together. Many of those wonderful students have become my FB friends, once again… and, yes, it is a real ‘boon’ for a person like me, who yearns so passionately, every day, to say what his heart wants to say…

How else could I have ever reached out to these amazing old-students of mine, my classmates, my relatives back home, all my near and dear ones who live thousands of miles afar, all over the world? It is just mind-blowing. Only that eccentric-genius (sorry sir!) kid, Mark Zuckerber, alone could solve - and can explain - this mystery!

Well, let me go back to the subject of this Post:

“Does familiarity still breed contempt?”

With all due respect and love to all my dear and near ones – my students, teachers, friends, relatives, well-wishers and yes, even my sweet-and-bitter enemies – I want to tell this, today:

“Let’s not connect too much, talk too much, share too much, ask too much, inform too much, poke too much, comment too much…. Preach and teach too much… write too much… Yes, all in the name of ‘being connected’… all in the name of having a few thousand friends…. just to experience that strange ‘kick’ called ‘Likes’!…

By now, some of you must have already become either tired, or fed-up… or sick of it!

Have I said too much?

Hope, not.

Yojana had asked me in her message to me, this morning, if I was in touch with a particular teacher, who was my colleague in those days. I quickly replied:

“No Yojana... sad to say I am not in touch with any teacher. Now, thanks to FB, we, at least, are connected…I will get in touch with them, slowly and steadily...”

Then, something prompted me to add this:

“You know, sometimes, too much of closeness also robs the magic and mystery of 'longing'. You know, Yojana, what I want to say: ‘Familiarity does breed contempt', even now! I just got a spark, as I say this to you, to write on this subject, today. Please read it by late afternoon. This Post is for u, dear. Love.”

This is late afternoon now. I have almost finished telling what I wanted to tell. 

I love all my students, teachers, friends, relatives, friends and well-wishers… I really do. It feels really great when I hear about them after many, many years through this magnificent medium called Facebook. But, I do not think that it has made me a better friend, a better well-wisher, a better relative, a better student or teacher – just because I keep saying “I like… I like… I like” all twenty-four- by-seven-by-fifty-two-by-my-life!

We need to jealously guard that precious ingredient of human relationship: the magic and mystery of distance in closeness… Yes, yes I hear you saying – ‘Space’! We need that distance to appreciate, respect and long for each other more… we need that silence, we need that awe, the wonder… that elusive something. Believe me, we need it. Else, take it from me, we will only end up ruining our innocent friendship.

“Even the pillars of a temple stand apart…” 

Kahlil Gibran had said so beautifully 

in his book - ‘The Prophet’…

Yes, Yojana, I have kept my word. The Post is done… You are Dr. Yojana, now… a scientist. You love to do research… Here is a humble request from this simple soul: Please do some research – and on a war-footing – to find whether too much of ‘liking’ on FB has actually distanced us or not…

And, yes, this Post is for you.


Pics.: Raj Dhage Wai

Wednesday, September 26, 2012


Just a while ago, Seema Iyer, a dear old-student of mine, who now lives with her wonderful family in North India, posted this comment on my yesterday’s Post:

“You put to words what most of us think, feel, experience...
You have talent Gerry sir... keep it flowing!”

So, when my dear student wrote on my Time-line, from miles afar, that I have talent, how did I feel?

No matter how simple and humble I try to project myself to be before this world, the truth – which I can not hide from me, at least – is this: I felt like a mighty eagle!

Didn’t I know my own talent?

There was a time, I didn’t. 

It was only when some wonderful people, like now Seema, came around me to remind me of it, that I actually began to believe in my own hidden talent…my special God-given gift, my endowment.

Yes, yes, we need people like Seema around us – all along our way – to keep reminding us about our hidden strengths and talents… We need these cheerleaders… to scream from the wayside, “Come on, keep flowing… keep going!”

I am sure, 

even the most gifted souls on this planet – 

the brightest of the brightest stars – 

also need this reminder, 

this re-assurance. 

All of us are endowed with our own special strengths and talents. Some of us recognize them and go about expressing them to the fullest… while, some of us simply fail to notice them till the end. Unmistakably, this is one of the greatest tragedies of human life... To spend a life-time on ‘acres of diamonds’ and yet unable to notice the treasure right beneath our own feet! 

Yes, I still remember, how inspired I had felt when I first read that famous essay - ‘Acres of Diamonds’ by Russell H. Conwell. He wrote it, more than a century ago, when there was no Internet - which you and I use now - to transmit it across the globe. He spent his life-time going around the places to deliver his famous message: “Friend, dig right below your own feet; you walk on  acres of diamonds!” 

That was   Mr. Conwell’s special gift… and, he unwrapped it, so gloriously, before he died!

Somebody has to come and remind us sometimes, “Look, my friend, you are special; you are an eagle!”

I am not tired of telling this story, even if I tell it a life-time!

“One day, a farmer, in a far away village, found an eagle’s egg on the mountainside. He brought it home and placed it among the chicken eggs. When the eggs hatched, along with little chicks was also born this little baby of an eagle. As time passed by, the eagle began to grow up and behave exactly the way the chickens did. He scratched, pecked and clucked like everyone around him did… He did not know who he really was. He was born with the chickens who scratched, pecked and clucked… so what he did… so what he thought himself to be: a chicken!

Then, one bright day, he saw a majestic sight in the sky. Fascinated by what he was beheld of, he asked the ones around him, “Who is that?”

“An eagle,” the chickens around him said, “the king of the birds!”

A familiar feeling began to gush through his heart. “Why can’t we fly as gloriously as he can?” he asked the chickens around him.

“Because, we are just chickens,” justified the ones around, “we are not born to fly like him!”

This story is told and retold by every motivational teacher, down the ages. And, this has the same open-end.

Some teachers tell, that the eagle believed in what the chickens around him had said: “We are not born to fly!”… therefore, he went on to live, for the rest of his life, like a chicken… and, one day, he died!

And yes, some teachers tell, that when he saw the eagle among the chicken, the mighty eagle in the sky had shouted, “What on earth are you doing, there, my young friend; you are an eagle!”and, the young eagle, all inspired by what he had just heard, shot up into the glorious skies, to which, he truly belonged!”

Yes, my dear Seema, in Life, all of us have these two open-end choices:
Either to listen to the pecking-and-clucking chickens around us; or, to the roaring-and -soaring eagle, the King of the birds!”

Thank you.


Pics.: Manoj Nair

Tuesday, September 25, 2012


If you yell at me, saying, “You are a donkey,” will I become one? 

Similarly, if you scream in front of a thousand people, “You are ‘dumb’, an ‘idiot’,” will that make me one?

Most of the times, it does. 

Yes, some one angrily calls me a ‘donkey’… and, I take it to my heart. I become angry too… I become mad, sad and then conspire to get back at my tormentor… get even. My mind and heart both are consumed by this ‘donkey consciousness’… Before long, I become the donkey I did not want to be!

In the same way, I become a ‘dumb’… an ‘idiot’!

Well, if you call me a ‘donkey’, a ‘dumb’ or an ‘idiot’, my heart is expected to sulk. Don’t expect those degrading words to pass off my heart the way milk passes off the Mahabali’s idol on a Maha-abhishekam!

It hurts... I sulk, I react. For, I am as sensitive as you are… I am not a dumb statue!

Oh yes, I just said, “as you are”!

This means, we both accept the fact that we both are sensitive… When harsh words are used against us, we get hurt, sad, angry… and we sulk or react.

Having said this, may this be said, too.

I do have within me what it takes not to become that ‘donkey’ or ‘dumb’ or ‘idiot’!

True, I can decide whether to allow the milk to seep into my system or just let it pass off…


Last morning, someone spoke to me very bluntly… The words were not derogatory though, they absolutely lacked sensitivity. He was brash and aggressive, as an army tank, trampling all over my fragile feelings…

On another day, I would have ended up either sulking or reacting; but, not last morning. I was allowing those blunt, insensitive words to simply pass off my system… Neither my mind nor my heart registered any of them… I was able to see this man with compassion (not with any indifference or arrogance)… I just did not want his words to affect me, at all. It was a conscious call I had taken right at the outset of his onslaught… and, once I had taken it, it was taken: come what may, the avalanche of this man’s sharp or blunt words would not take the better off me!


So, last morning, I did not become 

a ‘donkey’ or a ‘dumb’ or an ‘idiot’… 

even though 

the other fellow was tearing his throat 

to tell me I was one. 

I was not…

I am not…

But, a beautiful thing was happening within me… I was able to see clearly as to how often I did such things to others: my helpless students, my floundering staff, my spouse or the kid who might do things the way I did not like…

I am not sure what saved me, last morning: whether the wisdom that I too behaved in such a blunt or insensitive manner with others… Or, the present reality that this person had behaved with me so!

Whatever it is: being blunt, brash and insensitive is not good. When others call me a ‘donkey’ or an ‘idiot’, I may exercise my option not to be one… But, most certainly, when I call someone so, I have no option left in me… except: to become one!


Pics.: Vivek D'Cunha

Monday, September 24, 2012



As part of the on-going Ganeshotsav in our housing complex, last night, the Youth had organized programs for the kids. We have seven-day activities in our complex. But, the day we have kids’ activities, the turnout is the maximum! 

It is a real treat to watch the excitement of those kids… Right from a small baby to twelve-year old, we have them all on stage! And, yes, to cheer them on, we have their lovely parents and grandparents… bothers and sisters, even aunts and uncles! Yes, just to see their little bundle of joy, all decked up like a Fairy or Princess, a Narad or a Michael Jackson… and just standing there on center-stage to move those tiny hips or mouth those three-or-four-words dialogues! The little one standing there and just jumping up and down… yes, it is enough to make the beholders happy. And, if the kid can dance or sing… believe me, it is a huge feeling for the entire family… A celebration!

Yes, it is. 

You are grown up, today. Do you sing on stage, today? Do you dance? Do you act? Do you speak? Do you host programs? 

If you do one or two of these, you are surely admired, adored, looked up to for inspiration… and, yes, even envied… by those around. 

Stage has always inspired either awe or fear in human heart… Yes, from Noah’s time, that is!

If you are not able to sing, dance, act, speak or host a program on stage, today, it means you are shy of stage… You fear stage. You will always, avoid it… run way from it!

Something abnormal?

Take heart, my friend. It is perfectly normal!

I can tell you this from my experience. Let’s us see, if I am ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal’!

I grew up in my village in Mangalore… went to a local school till fifth standard… thereafter, joined a big-famous school, continued there with the college. I and four brothers lived with our parents and our dad’s parents. 

My grandma, a very good-looking and gracious lady, was an out-and-out extrovert. Singing came to her as swimming to a fish… and, she would get into it, anytime, anywhere… 

My grandpa was exactly opposite. He was dark and not good-looking… worked in the fields with his bare-minimum attire… and was as shy as a touch-me-not! When, grandma would get into her elements - I mean signing those folk songs in Konkani – our grandpa would hide into his room, close the door and would never come out!

Grandma loved to socialize, attend each and every function in the village or church… Our grandpa avoided them like plague… When Priest came to bless the house, the grandpa would disappear… He was a very God-fearing man… Yet, for his confessions, he would walk or travel all the way to some remote, unknown parish, where the priest or people would not recognize him… quietly confess and come home! So chronically shy he was!

Now comes my father. He was as fair and good-looking as my grandma… as outgoing, as gregarious… and, yes, he sang with equal passion all those folk-songs of Konkani. He was there, right at the heart of every local wedding or feast… regaling his beholders! 

And, there, on the other side of the world, stood my simple mom. She was too shy… Preferred to be behind the scene - in the kitchen or in the flower gardens! 

I remember my grandpa – even with his minimum schooling – contentiously immersed in  books such as ‘Imitation of Christ’ (translated into Konkani) and many other philosophical books. He would recite phrase before us – his grandchildren who would never understand them… and take him like some weird fellow – some of the finest quotes of wisdom (I resized much later, that those quotes were precious pearls and not some charcoals!)

Grandma was never interested in any philosophical things, leave alone reading!

My shy mom, again with her bare minimum schooling, preferred to read lots and lots of stuff… mostly the stories and news from Konkani or Kannada weeklies, monthlies or dailies. She would read after her daily chores, after everyone went off to sleep. She does that even now!

My dad had seven siblings. My mom had six siblings... I have four brothers.

I say this, here, just to convey to my readers that we may be born to the same parents… but, we need not be – and we are not – alike. Each one of us is created special… and, this beautiful truth, the early we grasp, the better for us…

Yes, today, I cannot sing. I cannot dance. 

I cannot do a hundred other things 

which others do, my brothers do, 

my wife does, my own son does…

And, I have neither the inclination nor the motivation do to most of the things these wonderful people do in their lives… even though I adore them for doing those things. But, frankly, I know, that I cannot do those things as brilliantly as they do… 

So, rather than trying desperately, and with futility, what others do in their life, I have chosen, early in life, to do what I love to do: teaching, writing, motivating, mentoring and such… And, you will have to believe this: I have been doing these things, for so long and with such passion and joy… only because, I am not good on stage! Rather, I am shy of stage… I fear stage. I avoid it… try to runaway from it! 

Yes, that’s why I have started ‘THE DAWN CLUB’… and, I have been spending years on helping and motivating others to be on stage…

I do not think, I would continue to do this, trust me I am sincere, if God frees me, today, of my shyness and stage-fear!

You may ask me as to what has prompted me to write on this subject, today.

Today is my younger brother Rony’s birthday. He lives in Kuwait with his wife and their lovely son. Rony has gone on our vivacious grandma and our buoyant dad. He is handsome, a thorough-breed extrovert… and, yes, he is a gifted and a very popular singer in Konkani.

Hello, he is my parents’ son…!

Still, I can’t do what he does – amazing singing!

And, believe me my friends, because I love others sing like they do, because silently I adore them... want to become like them – but, because I have realized that I am designed by the Creator not to do singing but something else in this world – yes, for these simple reasons, today, I have decided to write about it…

Perhaps, many may not be able to do what I do… 

It is okay… They need not…

Rony, my brother, will tell you, how desperately I wanted him to be a great singer. He has become one… Yes, the cheering of an elder brother, most certainly, must have mattered… the motivation and mentoring must have played a crucial role… But, he sings the way he does, because, that’s what he was created to do… and, he realized it early in his life.

Last night, when I saw all those parents and grandparents so excited about their little ones’ stage-performance, I remembered my own: I had never been on stage all my school and college life… I was, and still am, afraid of it!

Yes, I have gone on my grandpa… 

I read, I write, I quote…and, I hide!

And, I believe, that is something amazing about me…

As amazing as my adorable-brother Rony’s scintillating singing!

“A very, very happy b’day, dear Rony…

Proud to be your brother. Your dattu!”



Pics.: Nilesh