Gerald D'Cunha

HOW TO TEACH A ROCKET SCIENCE!

2012-02-11T12:04:00.003+05:30

He is Peter. And, she is Repeater.

“Sir, tomorrow willbe our b’day,” the little lady, Vishaka, stretched before me the box of Éclairs.

“Wow! Come, come…” Ipulled the beautiful Vishaka close to me. “Happy B’day beta in advance… May Godbless you,” I placed my hand gently on the little lady’s head.

“Sir, bless me too,”Yomesh, Vishaka’s twin-brother – just older by a minute – bent down to touch myfeet.

“Bless you beta,” Ilifted little Yomesh up to my heart, “A very happy b’day to you, too, mydarling.”

“So, where is theparty?” I asked.

“Sir, you will come,no?” both cried together.

“Oh yes, darlings, Iwill… Pakka,” I promised.

Peter and Repeater,both, felt thrilled on my promise. “Thank you sir… See you tomorrow,” they saidand moved with their chocolate boxes.

I kept looking out ofmy glass door… till the little stars completely disappeared from my sky.

Tomorrow, Yomesh andVishaka will turn nine!

For the last three orfour years, every Diwali and summer vacations, they come to attend our‘Personality Development’ sessions! And, every time they come, they bring theirdozens of friends! The little ones… five, six, seven and eight… year-olds.

Imagine, what I do tothese still-in-cradle kids!

“PersonalityDevelopment’!

I laugh in my heart thinkingabout the whole idea!

Vivek and Meenu, theparents of Yomesh and Vishaka, are my dear friends. In fact, Vivek was mystudent about twenty-three years ago. Vivek has been one my ardent supportersever since I started THE DAWN CLUB… and, he has always looked up to me. So, it isthese parents’ sheer wish that I contribute something at least to their offspring.

I love these littlechildren.

They are my great stress-busters.

They bring my roof down,

when theyattend our sessions!

And, that’s perfectly fine with me.

For, they bring mypride too down!

I help them come onstage… and open their mouths! Sing; tell a story, a poem, a joke, a funny orscary incident… and dance, act…

And, when they do it,they do it with all their heart… and they enjoy it so fully!

“What are the three mantras, you have learnt today, Yommie?”I ask in between.

Twenty hands go up,even though I asked the question to my darling Yommie.

“Yes, Vishaka beta,you tell me,” I move to Yommie’s toothless-sister!

“You shall speak loudly… You shall speak clearly… and you shall speak from our heart.”

“Shah bash!!!” I yellout to the class, “Give my Vishaka a very big hand.”

And, the roof, onceagain, comes down!

“Big deal dude,” Ilaugh in my heart, all over again. “I am teaching these Tare-Zamin-par kidssome ‘Rocket Science’!”

In fact, I show themmy favorite movies. I haven’t ceased to be a kid. I haven’t stopped playing andfighting… I haven’t stopped dreaming and crying… and, yes, I haven’t stoppedfeeling loved, lost and lonely. So, I show them ‘Tare Zamin Par’… I show them‘3 Idiots’ … and, I show them that inspiring horse movie – ‘SPIRIT – the Stallionof Cameron’.

My God! Watchingmovies with these kids is an out-of-the world experience. When I show them ‘3Idiots’, they know every dialogue before hand! When the songs come, some sing along…and some line up on the stage to dance. Every step perfect to the ‘t’!

These are kids… Mygreat stress-busters. They keep alive my innocence and sense of wonder… Theykeep my heart eternally longing, my eyes perpetually sparkling with stars… andmy life forever worth living.

“Happy b’day Yommie…Happy b’day Vishaka.” Please keep coming back in my life… so that I can keeplaughing in my heart:

“Hey dude, livinglife is not a Rocket Science!”

GERALD D'CUNHA

*Pic.: VIVEK C'CUNHA

THE FALCON AND THE TOUCH-ME-NOT

2012-02-10T09:27:00.003+05:30

Thisworld

May have a billion people;

But, my world hasonly a few,

I can count them onmy fingers…

One, two, three… fifty… Maybe, hundred!

Yes, only so many.

My heart rejoiceswhen Stars smile on my people…

And it sinks when adark cloud passes.

I soar like a Falcon

When they cheer me on from the ringside…

And I sulk like a ‘Touch-me-notpetal

When they ignore my presence.

Such is my world…

Such are my feelings…

Such are myaspirations, joys and sorrows!

There are mornings, Ijust can not step out of my house

Without saying agoodbye to my beloved…

And there aremornings, I wish I knew

How to say a goodbye

Even when my heart isas heavy as a mill-stone!

My world is the world

I want to live…

I choose to live!

I see what I want tosee…

I hear what I want tohear…

I speak what I wantto speak!

Someone said thatsome days back,

He was in Chandigarhand he froze in the cold nights!

Well, I heard what hesaid…

But, I never felt thecold he was talking about!

I had a lot ofsunshine in my life!

And, just last night,this man was with me,

And we were experiencingone of the chilliest nights,

Here in Mumbai...

“Gosh! I can’t bearthis!” I cried.

“Remember, what Isaid about Chandigarh?”

This man said with apride of an Alexander-the-Great!

No, I did not reallyremember –

Did not feel – the chill of Chandigarh!

My world was the coldwave of my city…

And my desire for warmtharound this bonfire!

“The world is withinme,” I am told by the Wise-men.

If so, the Seasons,too, must be within me…

The snowflakes andbonfire, too…

The flight of theFalcon

And the sadness ofthe Touch-me-not petal, too!

Another day…

Another world!

GERALD D'CUNHA

Pic.: Vivek D'Cunha

A ROYAL WASTE OF TIME!

2012-02-09T10:08:00.003+05:30

Whydo you write so much every day? What do you get from it? Who do you think readit? Why do you waste your time? Why can’t you put your writings in books andsell, make big money? Youngsters are not interested in your ‘serious’ stuff.Why are you not on Facebook? Do your wife and son read what you write?

A day doesn’t pass without atleast one or two these kind of questions and suggestions coming my way… Yes, fromsome of my closest people. They love me so much… that they really want me tomake 'big' money and 'big' name from my writings… they want me to write to the gallery ; and ,yes, they don 't like to see me 'wasting' my time! And, I forgot the importantthing: they want me to write only those things which my wife and son wouldread!

I have been writing like this –in my diaries and now on my Blog – for over three decades, now… ever since Ilanded in this beautiful city.

Why do I write so much?

Because,it makes me feel

good about myself...

and, it makes me feel

worthwhile!

Who do I think read it?

Well, at least half-a-dozen, everyday... I hope so! And, they tell me that they love it… find it very useful.

I have some proofs.

Two days back, I wrote a piece bythe title: ‘Who Killed Hitler?’ It was about the futility of being consumed byour anger and hatred. “Hatred is like fire,” I had stressed, “It consumes youbefore it consumes the one who you hate.”

Last night, my colleague and adear friend Soniya has sent a comment after reading it. Here it is:

As I was reading this article, tears rolleddown my eyes

As I couldrelate to it so so so much…

It came at the very right time – I am goingthrough this phase…

Thanks a million Sir for writing it.

“YOU SAVED ME BEFORE MY ANGER COULD CONSUMEME!”

Thank you Sir for this enlightenment.

Regards,

SONIYA

Does anybody read my posts?

At least Soniya does!

Am I wasting my time?

Well, did Jesus Christ waste His?Gautama Buddha His? Tendulkar his? Socrates his? Shakespeare his? Steve Jobshis? M.F. Hussein his?

Very dear people in the lives ofthese ‘Great’ souls did think it was all a royal waste of time!

So, mine too must be!

Will I be a Christ or a Shakespeareor a Tendulkar or a Hussein or Steve Jobs?

That question never was, is orwill be mine! That will never me my concern!

My wife’s cousin, Sunita, and herlovely daughter Benita love my writings and they do tell me that. On this 12^th, Sunita and her gentleman-hubby Benjamin will be celebrating their silverwedding. And, for me the icing on the cake is: They want me to raise a toastfor them on their big day!

Well, Sunita and Benjamin, evenbefore the big moment comes, let me raise this toast, today:

“That’s the greatest wealth Ihave amassed from my daily writings… That, some , like you , consider me to be worthyof wishing well in their life!”

And, early last morning, my well-wisherCicie sent me this Good-morning message:

“Praise the Lord,

For, your writings give Glory to God!”

Who reads my writings?

Well, some do.

What difference does it make tome?

If only I could explain!

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: VIVEK D’CUNHA

A PLACE AMONGST THE STARS

2012-02-08T16:10:00.000+05:30

Comingyear, my students Nikhil will be going to twelfth standard and Mohit to T.Y. B’Com.Incidentally, their parents had come to see me, yesterday. They had the samequestion to ask me: “Sir, what do you think, our son should do?”

After twelfth, Nikhil has manyoptions… and, the same is for Mohit, after T.Y. B’Com. I have no answer to theseparents. Options are always there before you… and in plenty. But, to choosewhat you want to do - is for you.

When I chose Commerce after mytenth, I chose it by default. My tenth marks were very poor, my awareness levelwas pathetic… and the state of my confidence… The lesser I talk about it, the better!So, like the rest of the ‘herd’, I found myself in this milieu called ‘Commerce’!

Needless to say, I was doing abad job there!

But, even the ‘default’ choicesare the ‘dots of our destiny’… They are all connected. I remember, in my twelfthstandard, our English teacher, a Jesuit Priest, taught us Shakespeare… KingLear, Romeo Juliet and Julius Caesar. He also taught us Kalidasa’s magicalplay, ‘Shakuntala’.

And, I was bad in English… I hadthis heavy stone on my head called ‘vernacular medium’… and I was constantly houndedby the ghost of Inferiority complex. So, I remember, when this Priest taught usthese classics with all his passion, I began to like the Subject of English forthe first time… More importantly, a desire was born in me to learn English… toread, write and speak in it. And, I couldn’t wait anymore… I laid my hand onwhatever was available around to achieve this mission.

And, after a year or so, whenProf. Raman came to teach me my Commerce subjects, the ‘Career-choosing job’was done! As I have told endlessly in my past writings, Prof. Raman became mysilent Hero, my role model… I wanted to be like him – a passionate teacher!

Did my tenth-standard marksdecide my today’s profession?

Did my hardly-studied parentshelp me to do it?

Did my talents come to my rescue?

So, when parents of my students,today, come to seek help from me on this subject, I really do not know how toreach out to them – except sharing with them my own story. I do that,invariably with every student and every parent who seeks my help. Ironically, Ifind it helping!

Shankar Mahadevan doesn’t need myintroduction of him. But, not sounding boastful of myself, when I first met himin my friend Sundar’s house, sometime in 1990, they were just out of their Computer Engineering College.Shankar lived in one of the very humble localities in Chembur, Shell Colony; and, when I met him in Sundar’s place, like a typical Madras fellow, they were sittingon the floor and having their blissful time!

Shankar loved music. He sang inthe locals functions, in his college and he was liked by many. But then, whatis the big deal? Every second kid may sing, dance, write, speak or play. But,what made Shankar what he is today?What made Sachin? What made Amitabh?

I really do not know.

After a month or so, Sundar ran astory in the ‘Young Achievers’ section of our THE BLOOM magazine. Yes, Shankar,our local boy, was just a fresh young-achiever… And, I was honoring him in our ‘Local’inspirational magazine as its Editor!

Last night, my dear friend Ashokand his wife Sudha had surprised me and my wife by taking some special ticketsfor the musical show – ‘REMEMBER SHAKTI’ - at the ‘Shanmukanada Hall’. Zakir Hussain on his table.John Mclaughlin on his guitar. U. Shrinivas on Mandolin. V. Selvaganesh onGhatam, Kanjira and Mridangam... and, finally, our Shankar was there with his heavenlyvocals!

I do not know what to write aboutthis experience… ‘Spell-binding’ would be just another adjective… So would be ‘Breath-taking’!The massive auditorium was packed to the last seat… and there were, in theaudience, the rich and the famous, the young and the old, we Indians and scores of foreigners.What baffles me still is: how can a man mesmerize each and every soul by justrunning his fingers on a tabla or a few strings or just an earthen pot or anordinary thing like a Kanjira?

Last night, John’s guitar sang! WhenSelvaganesh played his solo on his Kanjira – for a marathon twenty minutes or so –he took our breath away! When he was done, we had to stand up and salute hisgenius!

What is that so special aboutthese men? So many play a tabla, and so many play a guitar… and so many sing – I dareto say – far better than even Shankar. Still, what is this, so special , aboutthese men? Why every other man can not be a Zakir Hussain or a Shankar Mahadevan?

I really do not know.

All that I can say is:

the dayyou discover your talent –

that special gift of God,

you have discovered

a GoldMine in you!

I believe, God has left

this endowment in all of us –

yes, onegift or the other…

He has left in us….

And, He has also ‘left’

for each one ofus

to discover it for ourselves.

Then, I think, God watches us…whether we succeed in doing this discovery or not… And, if we do, He alsowatches us on how we go about using our talents.

Finally, I think, it is only whenGod thinks we ‘deserve’ – yes, only then just a tabla can produce a legendcalled Zakir Hussain… and a very ordinary local lad can zoom amidst the Milky Way to shine to be a ‘Shankar Mahadevan’.

“Beta, please look within you todiscover your special gift, your talent.” Perhaps, every time I sopassionately urge a young man with these words, I have a strong feeling that Ihave already found my own place amongst the shining stars!

That must be – and that is – my specialendowment from God!

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: VIVEK D’CUNHA

LIFE'S LITTLE SURPRISES

2012-02-07T16:22:00.003+05:30

You are mighty O lord…

And Your faithfulness surrounds You…

You rule over the surging sea…

When its waves mount up,

You still them…

Psalm 89:8-9

For, a day in your courts,

Is better than thousand elsewhere…

I would rather be a door-keeper

In the House of God

Rather than live

In the tents of wickedness.

Psalm 84:10

Todaymorning, at 7.45, I received the first Biblical passage from Pravin, my friendin Mumbai. He is a Hindu and sends me, now and then, a Holy passage… Sometimes, when I rise in the morning… and, sometimes, when I am about to retire.

Cicie, lives hundreds of milesafar… and sends me a Biblical passage , every morning. Today, I received thesecond passage from her at sharp 7.47!

I was pleasantly surprised. Whata divine co-incidence… That, two of my well-wishers have to send me twoinspiring passages from the same section of the Bible… and at the same time.Well, almost!

I feel very moved

by thesurprises and co-incidences

the Life throws before us

every now and then.

Ilike the mystery and magic

surrounding them…

I like the beauty and power

theyare clothed with.

This morning, I was wondering:How come two of my friends consider me worthy of such a fine benevolence?

It did humble me, this morning.

And, last night, just before Iwas to retire, I received a short message from another dear one. I was not atall expecting it… And, when it popped on my cell-phone, I almost jumped!

The day was very bad yesterday… Iwas stressed out by the end of the day. One short message , just saying a “Hello’from a person you value, was enough to send away the stress and gloom.

And, what a way to start my day,this morning… That too, two of my friends wish me well, wish me peace!

Yes, I feel like shouting fromthe mountain-top what the Psalmist says:

“I would rather be a door-keeper

In the house of God

Rather than live

In the tents (Mansions) ofwickedness.”

GERALD D'CUNHA

Image Courtesy: VIVEK D'CUNHA

WHO KILLED HITLER?

2012-02-07T12:02:00.003+05:30

Itis very difficult to fathom why some people always dislike me… In fact,hate me. But, there are a handful… and, they do. I have tried to analyze on thisand failed. I have tried to reason out with them, be extra-courteous with them…even tried to be more reconciliatory so that I would experience peace. But,nothing works with these people… They have distrust deeply embedded in theirhearts, and you come out only more hurt.

I am a good soul!

Well, this is how even they mustbe feeling about themselves!

Do I dislike them? Hate them?

What I can see in me is my deepwish to strike peace with them… my deep desire to end all the misunderstandingand bitterness. Hence, I can clearly say that I do not dislike them or hatethem.

The wise-men say, hate is likefire… It consumes me before it consumes the one who I hate!

By the same measure, they say,Love is like fire, too… It consumes me before it consumes the one who I love!

The more I love my tormentor, themore peaceful I become.

“An eye for an eye only makes thewhole world blind.” Gandhi had echoed this message of Jesus Christ. Today, whensomeone so passionately hates me – I do feel tempted to hate him in return…Destroy him as he tries to do to me. Yes, I do feel like going for his eye!

Thoughts crystallize in my soul.

I do not have to pluck my tormentor’s eyes

to take my revenge…

my incessant hateful-thoughtsare enough.

Before I know,

I will be consumed by this inferno

and my soul willbe dead!

Those who cried for Christ’s blood,too, believed that they were God’s faithful… even though I believe that Christwas God’s own son! Today, I have a choice: to which faith should I belong!

“Father, forgive them… For, they donot know what they are doing.” I findthis prayer more reassuring than this: “Father, destroy them… For, they knowwhat they are doing.”

Hitler needed a monster calledNAZI to destroy millions and millions of people who he hated with all hisinsanity. But, to destroy this monster – Hitter – did you need anyone?

Yes, yes. Hatred is its ownpunishment. It destroys you before it destroys the one who you hate.

GERALD D’CUNHA

Image courtesy: VIVEK D'CUNHA

UNTIL THE MOON LIVES...

2012-02-06T16:02:00.002+05:30

When

You send me the Moon tonight,

Send me also the promise:

That, Love has nothing to do

With the shape or size of the Moon!

That, though the sea shouldexplode or sleep

As per the dictates of Heavens,

My heart need not…

My soul need not!

Teach me never to care foranother

More than I do it for myself…

So that I stop causing wounds

To my own heart,

Over and overagain.

Teach me to care for another…

Love another…

But, teach me how and why notto

Assure another of my ‘undyinglove’…

Teach me to help another,

Love another,

With my clean heart and purefaith…

And help me never ever to makeanother

Cling to my soul…

Suffocate and suffer;

And ,when that happens,

Help me free the bird that iscaged

All with the false hope of my ‘undyinglove’!

Help me, too, to be free in Love,

And never to be blind-folded andfooled

By the promise of another:

“Dear, I shall be by your souluntil the Moon lives.”

I do not know what kind of Moon

Will be in store for me, in thesky, tonight,

Please free me from clinging tothe Moon…

I do not want to love another

And still fear… still remainlonely!

So, when You send me the Moontonight,

Cause in me the quiet bliss offreedom…

In Love…

And also cause in me the silentstrength of trust…

In Love

Even when I don’t see a Moon inthe sky!

GERALD D’CUNHA

THANKS:
The image used in this Post isby Ashok Ahuja. He is aprofessional Photographer and a very dear friend of mine. He is also one of thefounder members of The Dawn Club, and, along with his gifted-artist wife, Sudha, has been helping me, and theClub, right from its inception.

THE UNFINISHED BUSINESS

2012-02-06T09:30:00.003+05:30

“Your table tells how happy you are in life.”

Manyyears ago, I heard someone telling this to me. He was trying to tell me, theclutter – our unfinished business – had a direct link with our state of mind,and state of heart as well.

After many years, yes, I do agreewith what this man had said.

Every time I visit, my goodfriend and my physician, Dr. Lulla’s Homeopathic dispensary, I come out healedand refreshed not only physically but mentally, too. “How do you manage to keepyour table so spotlessly clean with absolutely nothing – except your PC, thepad and the pen-holder?” I ask him , invariably , every time I visit him. There isso much positive energy out there… I really come out concluding, how complicated we make our life with unnecessary ‘stuff’ in our minds!

Dr. Lulla is young and ambitious.He runs two dispensaries, is attached to many well-known hospitals, and is theyoungest Trustee of one of the finest educational foundations around… He showsactive interest in social causes and even the promotion of sports amongst thelittle children. In spite of all this hectic pace in his life, he has managedto keep his desk absolutely spotless, uncluttered.

“I have separated my privatedomain from the public,” Dr. Lulla tells me, “What is of public doesn’t come tomy private space.”

Well, that’s really tough tomanage, I know. But then, Dr. Lulla does it, brilliantly!

The same feeling I get every timeI visit Advocate Puri’s tastefully decorated office. Not only his personaltable but also of every advocate and the staff who works there, have managed to keeptheir desks incredibly spotless. Everything has a file and every file has asystem… and, importantly, every piece of work has a well-defined, well-delegatedsystem. There are a thousand law books in those magnificent shelves… But, whenyou need to refer a particular Provision, you don’t have to break your headsearching for it. There are several clients but staff is select. What workshere is the ‘system’.

How does the ‘system’ come about?

I haven’t asked this question toAdv. Puri. But, my guess is: He values his private space… He values hisuncluttered life… and, therefore, he has communicated his vision so well downthe line. Yes, the speed of the leader is the speed of the gang.

Unfinished business causesconfusion, anxiety and stress.

Some months back, I had a bitterargument with someone close to me. Well, as we always do, we keep justifyingwhat we do… and, keep arguing about it everyday in our mind even though theperson is not there around! “I was right!” “I did the right thing!”

If I was right,

and if I did theright thing,

why is that I am still restless?

Why am I consumed by thosethoughts

and why is this stress?

Last night, I just dialed thisman’s number. What surprised me was: He was weighed down by the same stress andall along wanted to talk to me and clear things out. And, last night, we did.

One more ‘desk’ cleared… One moreclutter!

If I value an uncluttered life, Iwill know how to be humble in life.

Every morning, before I sit onthis PC, I take the soft duster and gently do away the dust on it. Someone does the same thing with his body…someone with his mind… and someone with his soul!

Stress in my life does remind me,that there is some ‘clutter’ and I must do away with it. I must finish that ‘unfinished’business!

Oh yes! My table does tell howhappy I am in my life!

GERALD D’CUNHA

BE THE THREE MONKEYS

2012-02-05T19:51:00.003+05:30

Lastsummer, in our PD sessions, we had these three thick friends – all 13-year old.Kavish, Arnab and Neeraj. So vibrant they were, so full of mischief and life… Iloved to call them ‘Gandhiji’s three monkeys’! And, these three little monkeysloved me for that!

On the graduation day, likeothers, all three monkeys had turned up immaculately dressed, very formally.When I called out their names, I had to call them the way I always did duringthose two months. Kavish preferred to shut his ears, Arnab his eyes… and Neerajwanted his mouth sealed!

It is close to a year since mythree little monkeys passed out of our class. But then, every time I bump intothem, they have to be together – all three… Yes, all three monkeys!

Inspired by the three littlemonkeys,

one afternoon,

I had, unwittingly, told the class,

“To be happy andsuccessful in our lives,

all that we need to do is –

‘be the three monkeys’…”

“Hear no evil… See noevil… and, Speak no evil.”

No, I had not told this to theclass. I was not taking a Moral Science class for these young kids… Nor was I aBaba giving them some ‘pravachan’!

I had said, “Like the firstmonkey, in life, you need to be deaf, quite many times. Do not expect people tospeak to you only nice things… Even though you deserve compliment, even thoughyou do not deserve to be decried, even though it is too painful to bear what isbeing said… Yes, even though it is unfair and hurting, you need to learn how tofilter out what you hear… How not to take it to your heart, and sulk, turnbitter and angry… How to see the goodness in the other person even though hehas just said something unfair…” And, I would tell them, “It is so necessaryfor us to learn this. Because, the person who says the nasty things might be avery dear one: our parent, brother or sister, a close relative or a teacher ora well-wisher.” I would remind them, “You can not just discard these peoplefrom your life… You need to learn how not to internalize some things that youhear… and, how you need to do some.”

“Like the second monkey, you needto be blind sometimes,” I would remind my students. I would tell them, “Eyestoo are the gateway to our hearts. Everything that you see may not be pleasant.Even though you see some people doing things you do not like – and, they keepdoing them even though they know that you do not like them doing, and eventhough you have expressed your displeasure before them… Yes, you need to learnhow to close your eyes – be blind – to some of their behaviour and actions.Because, these people may be your dearest ones. You just can’t shunt them offyour life. You need to live with them… and live with dignity, freedom andharmony.”

Finally, what heart feels, ourmouth speaks. Gandhiji was a huge fan of Jesus Christ… “Do unto others what youwant them to do unto you.” It is as simple as that. “You may not be able to stopother people from saying nasty things towards you,” I would drill into my youngstudents’ minds, “But, you can always stop you from doing it towards others…Yes, like the third monkey, we need to be dumb… many, many times, in life.”

I usedto have a lot of fun discussing this serious stuff – LIFE – with the young andlittle ones.

Who doesn’t want to be happy andsuccessful in life?

A baby cries for the same reason.An old one, as well!

Just today, in TOI Sunday-special,I was reading about what Pritish Nandy and his wife Reena Nandy had to say aboutthe secret behind their 33-year-old marriage. They had to zoom on one thingthat is a must for a long-lasting marriage. “Humour,” was what Pritish pointed.“Be deaf, be blind and be dumb,” was what Reena had to say.

“Wow!” I jumped, “What a simpleway!”

GERALD D’CUNHA

* Image source: Internet.

I HOPE, YOU ARE SAFE...

2012-02-04T11:43:00.000+05:30

Itwas 1993. A few weeks after the infamous Mumbai-Bomb-blasts, we hadreceived a short letter written my Merlyn, a young British-lady. She had seenthe gruesome images of mayhem in this city and she had expressed her genuineconcern for us and written to my wife, “I hope, all of you are safe.”

Just a few weeks before that, Ihad taken my wife and our just-a-baby son to the beautiful Keem beach, not veryfar from Mumbai. MTDC has resorts here; we loved the quietness of this place,the excellent food and, above all, the stay in those close-to-the-Nature tents.We had gone there just for a week-end. But, because we loved this place, wedecided to extend our stay for a day more. So, by that Sunday evening, theentire place was empty… The Mumbai revelers go there just for a short week-endto re-charge their batteries…and, they go back to the city so that they canresume to work on Monday.

That Sunday, when night fell,we looked around… We suddenly felt we were in a very deserted place! There wereno visitors left now… except this beautiful young-British-lady, Merlyn. And,needless to say, she too was anxious and a bit scared to stay in that lonelyplace… The night ahead looked really dark and scary. It was too late to returnto Mumbai… The last boat had left, and there was no way we could now change ourplan. We had to say back, there, through that night.

So, Merlyn, the stranger, becameour friend, that night. My wife had a good time with this wonderful lady and mylittle son had another admirer to pamper! We spent a lot of time talking onvarious subjects, we ate together, and, finally, when we went to retire, mywife thought it was appropriate to stay in Merlyn’s tent, that night. So, shetook our little one and went there, to make this stranger woman feel a lot safer, and caredfor.

The next afternoon, we all leftfor Mumbai together. On reaching Mumbai, we bid good-bye to each other, whileour son got some final pampering from his ‘White aunty’… and off we went intoour own worlds.

In just a couple of days, weforgot about all this.

And then, after some days, thebombs went off all over the city and people died… The destruction numbed all ofus… and, we all here – the Mumbaikars - were still limping back to normalcy.That was the time, one morning, the postman dropped this letter. Merlyn hadtaken our postal address… and, she had written to my wife enquiring about oursafety.

Those were not the days ofcell-phones or e-mails. My wife wrote back to Merlyn… Thanking her for theconcern… and for the wonderful time we had together, on that lonely night.

Why do I remember this ‘WhiteAunty’ of my little son,today, after nearly two decades?

Just a week ago, a mentally-disturbedST bus-driver had unleashed a mayhem of another kind in the heart of thecrowded Pune-city. He had gone on a destruction spree… and, the images werebeing flashed over the TV… Suddenly, we did experience the numbness, again. This time around, our son is a youngman and lives in a hostel in Pune. Well, the tragedy happened near Swargate,the heart of the city, and we knew that our son lived far from this place. But,you never know! They do come to the main city, very often… So, you really never know!

We called immediately. Our sonand all his friends were safe!

We sent a sigh of relief!

Then, that night, just beforegoing to the bed, I remembered about another young man who lived in his hostelright near that spot. It was too late, but, I could not stop myself fromcalling his dear ones, here back in Mumbai: “Is Abhinav safe?”

Yes, he was!

I felt relieved, once again!

Sorrow is there in me as I see somany innocents die and such insane destruction is forced upon so many helplessones. Yet, I feel in my heart this ‘uneasy relief’ when I learn that my dearone is safe. Yes, it is an uneasy relief!

Paradoxical it seems:

even thougha trillion stars

shine above us through the night,

we can still feel lonely…

And, on the other hand,

just a letter from the blue,

or a late-night call or a message –

“I hope,you are safe” -

can make our hearts truly feel so!

Our son has come home for his week-end, last night. I just felt very, very safe, thismorning. Thought, I will tell the world!

GERALD D’CUNHA

THE ANSWER IS NOT MINE

2012-02-03T18:27:00.003+05:30

Everything

happens for my good…

The more I tell it to myself, truer it sounds.

Everything is taken care of…

The more I think about it, the calmer my heart becomes.

Everything has a life… comes and goes…

The more I look up to the skies,

The sunnier my heart grows.

Everyone comes in my life,

Including my best friend and the worst enemy,

Only to make me a finer, stronger and saner human…

The more I believe in it,

The more beautiful this world appears to live in.

Everyone is imperfect like me –

Brave as me, feeble as me, lost as me and blessed as me…

The more I tell it to this world,

The kinder my soul breathes…

This very moment,

I am weighed down by the question:

“What will happen, tomorrow?”

Yes, the question is real…

It is very much there…

Making me anxious, a lot scared.

But then, I know, every question is just a question…

The answer is not mine…

The question, always, is!

I am done with this confession…

I am done with the question…

I am done with
One more embrace of
Amazing grace…

Thank you,

One more bridge, one more tunnel… and one more pass…

Thank you.

GERALD D’CUNHA

YOU ARE ALREADY THERE

2012-02-03T15:25:00.002+05:30

An hour ago,

I was talking to a lady.

It was afternoon time, so I asked,

“Ma’am, lunch over?”.

“No lunch for metoday;

Friday is my fasting day,” she told me.

“Every Friday?” I expressed my surprise.

“Yes, every Wednesday

And every Sunday, too,” she replied.

“My, God! What for you fast so much?”

I enquired.

“Wednesday for my husband,

Friday for my daughter

And Sunday for myself and a few dear ones,”

This lady told me.

“Please add me on your Sunday list, ma’am,”

I said jokingly.

“You are there in it, already!” I was told.

“So kind of you, ma’am… So sweet!” I exclaimed.

Was she serious?

She must be.

So many times I tell this to so many people,

“I will pray for you.”

But then, do I?

And, so many times I tell it to some people,

“Please pray for me,” and I am told, “Certainly, I will.”

But then, do they?

All this happens so mechanically… and, our life goes on!

Today, when this lady said,

She fasts for me, along with some of her dear ones,

I must feel good,grateful and cared for.

I don’t think God will send a special angel

To break the news,

“Gerry, I am happy with your well-wisher’s fast for you…

So, here I bless you!”

Blessing lies in my yearning…

How well I mean!

For God, a Sunday or a Wednesday

or a Friday makes no difference…

But, for us, it does…

Because, as this lady does,

She really leaves aside

Everything else on Wednesdays

And prays for her beloved husband…

On Fridays, she does the same thing

For her wonderful daughter…

And when Sunday comes,

She really brings her focus

On herself and a few dear ones.

If my body is a temple,

God must be dwelling there in it.

So, whenever I fast,

I become aware of the sanctity of this temple…

I become aware of my God…

I become aware of some dear, dear ones in my life…

Oh yes, I am already there in my well-wisher’s list ofdear-ones…

Because, God, my eternal well-wisher, is already there!

“I will pray for you,” when I say this, I have alreadyprayed!

GERALD D’CUNHA

THANKS:

The image used in this Post isby Ashok Ahuja. He is aprofessional Photographer and a very dear friend of mine. He is also one of thefounder members of The Dawn Club, and, along with his gifted-artist wife, Sudha, has been helping me, and theClub, right from its inception.

THE ENCOUNTER

2012-02-02T10:39:00.000+05:30

“Truly, our day is made up of these smallgestures… and our day is made even better by bringing a smile on someone-else’sface! All of us should keep spreading positive energy and smiles wherever we go…with whomever we meet.

We all feel life is so complicated, when itis actually not… if we live our each day as our last day!

Cheers on ‘Have a Great Day’!!”

Theseare not my lines… Nor is the heart that whispers them!

Seventeen-year-old Maanvi, mydear student, sent them as a comment for my yesterday’s post – ‘Have A GreatDay’. I have already told in that post how a simple, well-meant greeting, suchas ‘Have A Great Day’, can actually make our day ‘Great’!

Not only my day, but also mynight went well, yesterday… Yes, just by inhaling and exhaling that positiveenergy which was there all in the air!

And, then, at night, Maanvi sentme that comment. I was moved!

About eighteen years ago, justafter three years of our marriage, both, my wife and I, had been for a week-endretreat. The Catholic Church gives us so many wonderful opportunities, likethese retreats, to re-charge our dwindling spirits, to re-align our lives, timeand time again. For couples, we have the Marriage Preparation retreat before wereally get into the marriage, and after we are married, we have this wonderfulretreat called ‘The Marriage Encounters’.

One week-end, we had attended one of these Marriage Encounters. There were many young and old couples – very,very old even… some of them coming there, almost, every year to rejuvenate themselves! And, there were a couple of Nuns! We learnt later, even they were married…Yes, to Christ, whom they had devoted their entire life for!

On the very first day, the leadcouple had asked us to write down just three most important compliments – somethingwe really, really longed in our hearts to tell our partners all ourmarried lives, but for some reasons, we hadn’t…. And, we had to also write justthree serious complaints – the most painful and the most unforgettable and unforgivable grievances - against our partner that, all along, consumed our souls with painand bitterness. It sounded so easy to do. Oh, why just three... there werehundreds, particularly the complaints! But then, what made this simple-looking exerciseso challenging was that we had to tell it to our partner (in our letters) assuming – reallyfeeling – that we had just a day to live here on earth. Yes, here with ourpartners!

We wrote, we tore, we wrote, wetore… yes, we wrote down our complaints and we tore them down… till we all keptweeping in the silence of that night! Some alone… and most of us holding ourpartners’ hands… Just not saying anything… Just being there in that pervading quietnessof the night!

Maanvi has a long time toencounter this experience, I know. But, this seventeen-year-old’s thoughts hadjust the same message.

“Hey dude, life is cool!” Well,this is the lingo of Maanvi’s clan. “Just chill, dude!”

And, I think that's how it shouldbe… Life should be cool… and, we all should – the dudes and dads – yes, all ofus should learn how just to chill. In Life!

But then, what made this message

so cool,

and helped me chill –

was the way she conveyed,

with such depth andmaturity:

“We all feel life is socomplicated,

when it is actually not…

if we live our each day

as our last day!”

Does a seventeen-year old live hisor her each day like that?

Eighteen years ago, that night, when we hadjust completed three years of our marriage – I was thirty-five, and my wife was26 – we both did think about it, seriously… We had cried! Then, again,as most of us do, we also kept reasoning: “It can’t be… No, it can’t be ourlast day… We have years and years to live!”

Thank you Maanvi for wishing melast morning – “Carpe Diem”… Seize the day! And yes, for freshly reminding methat I am, certainly, not an exception.

Who has seen the tomorrow’s Sun?

GERALD D’CUNHA

HAVE A GREAT DAY

2012-02-01T13:19:00.000+05:30

But, night was very disturbing… Anxiety and sadness hadhovered over my heart, and I was sleepless late into the night.

Yes, you should nevergo to bed with bitter arguments, with any one. Yes, with any one. I had brokenthis rule and I was paying for it with my deprived sleep!

But then, when I rosethis morning, the first thing I did was:

“Lord, help me remain calm… Help me see the brightness through the day.”

This came to me justnaturally…

Which meant:

I was yearning for peace…

I was yearning for a ‘cominghome’!

At 7 in the morning,I received my first message on the cellphone.

“Good morning sir. Just a reminder:

Paperdistribution on Friday at 10.

Have a great day!”

A week ago, I hadasked my students to remind me of the paper-distribution before Friday… and,here was Maanvi, my student, doing it with her smiley… That was the firstmessage this morning… A happy one.

I instantly sent myreply:

“Thank you Maanvi…

It was so kind of you…

Have a great day,too.”

I felt good withthat!

As I stepped out ofour gate, Akshay, one of my dear friends’ son, was struggling to get an auto.He was getting late for his college (Second-year Engg) and I was more thanhappy to give him a lift. When, he got off the auto, he was profusely thankful.“Thank you so much sir… Have a nice day!”

“You too, beta,” Ipatted Akshay’s back.

I felt good with that!

When I was gettingoff the auto near my classes, Mona, who has just started working aftercompleting her MSW, exclaimed, “Thank you sir for bringing me an auto… I wasstruggling to get one for ten minutes… I am late. Thank you.”

“Beautiful dress,Mona,” I complimented. Mona was wearing something exceptionally graceful!

“Thank you sir,” Monajumped with delight, “Have a great day.”

“You too, Mona,” Iwished as the auto drove her fast, and away.

I felt good with thattoo!

It is past mid-noon,now… I am feeling very, very calm…

God has helped me tobe peaceful… to see the brightness through the day!

When night comes, Iwill not carry bitterness to my bed…

Three young soulshave wished me for a great day…

And, I have wishedthem, too!

GERALD D’CUNHA

GIVE ME SOME SUNSHINE

2012-02-01T12:17:00.001+05:30

Lastevening, I had been to my younger brotherViva’s place. He has two lovely children. Ritesh, the first child is in sixth,and Rhea, the second, is in Senior KG. Both the children are smart and theparents are really taking good care of them.

Last evening, when Ihad visited their place, Sonu, Viva’s wife, was not at home. She had taken Rheafor the speech-and-drama class. The class would take more than an hour, andSonu, was waiting for all this duration, so that she could bring back Rhea.

Just for me to say‘Hi’ to Sonu, Viva took me by his car to the place where Rhea was learning.Sonu came to meet me along with Deepa, her friend. When I was talking to them,I found a lot of sadness on Deepa’s face… I did not enquire about it. But, Iguessed what it could be.

Deepa was married toMahesh about thirteen years ago. They have not been blessed with any children.In fact, Mahesh’s elder bother, Sunil and his wife Sudha, who have been married forover 26 years, are childless, too. All efforts have gone in vain… and, somevery modern ways of going about this issue, they are still not comfortablewith. Many have been advising them to go for adoption… But, for some personalresons, they haven’t done that too.

Deepa feels thatacute pain… And, I guess, she was sad, last evening, for this reason.

Why do I guess on this?

All along our discussion,last evening,

I saw Deepa showing a real concern

for little Rhea…

When the timewas up,

she literally felt excited,

left all of us alone,

and rushed to thethird floor

to collect the little one!

It was a sight to behold!

Rhea was her child…Last evening!

When Deepa returnedwith Rhea, I was not there. But, I am sure, the sadness on her face was notthere, too!

Yes, I am stillguessing!

* All names are changed except in the case of my brother's family.

GERALD D’CUNHA

YES, I AM MY BEST FRIEND

2012-01-30T13:33:00.003+05:30

Once again,I am writing on the same subject: “Fear, Anger, and Jealousy… Why is it sodifficult to do away them from my life? How can I separate these feelings frommy actions?

Kumar likes my articles. I haven’t met him, yet.But, I have a strong feeling: the reason why he likes my posts is that I soundto him very much like him… a real human… filled with the same raw emotions oflove and hate, faith and fear, admiration and jealousy… I think, he likes thefact that I sincerely talk about my confusions, my struggles and my genuine yearningsto be good, compassionate and zestful…. Yes, despite all my insecurities, painand self-doubts.

Yes, I think Kumar sees hope in my writings!

I find it extremely difficult to separate myemotions from my actions… even though anger, fear and envy are not the emotionsto help me produce good actions. Or, is that – they ARE? Kumar could relate it –this dilemma, this drama – to his life.

In my next post, ‘Warmed By The Same Summer’, Ihad written this:

I do get angry.

I do get afraid.

I do get jealous.

And, I do want to know:

“What is wrong with that?”

I had further said:

If something iswrong, then alright: Let me write about it… as it is… not hiding anything, notjustifying, not blaming or accusing… not feeling guilty or victimized. Yes, letme write about it honestly, fully… beautifully.

And, there they go –my anger, my fear, my envy - like a ghost out of my body…

Leaving me feelingnot just good, but Great. Yes, Great!

CameKumar’s honest response, quickly:

Dear Gerry,

For you, your anger, your fear and yourenvy go out of your body – like a ghost, because you are able to write it downso beautifully. What about us?? How do we remove the ghost out of our body?”

A very dear student of mine, Natasha*, is presently in somepersonal pain. She always looked up to me, sought my help regularly and I was veryhappy doing what I was doing. She had sincerely expressed to me, time andagain, that she was grateful to me for my help and it had helped her to grow asa strong, confident and zestful human being. And, now the final exams are roundthe corner… some personal problem – a painful misunderstanding with someonedear to her – has made her suddenly sulk. She doesn’t respond to anyone’s phonecalls or messages… It is a sudden blackout.

When two to threeattempts to reach her through my texts failed, just last afternoon, I sent a veryhonest and direct message – very gentle and caring as well – to this dear soulwho was in pain. “Natasha, I am concerned about you as there is nocommunication from your end,” I told her, “You are in pain and I understandyour need to be alone… and I respect that. But, at the same time, it isimportant to communicate that need to others frankly, fearlessly and gently… Itis crucial for our well-being… It makes us peaceful, light… and helps us walkwith our head high…Our lack of communication is causing misunderstanding, hurtand pain… and slowly it can turn into poison. I really appreciate a word ofcommunication so that my mind stops guessing and we stop hurting each othermore…”

Within seconds,Natasha got back to me. She apologized for causing this misunderstanding andthereby the hurt and pain… She expressed her present need to be alone to figureout things on her own… and she hoped I would understand her.

I did. All that Ineeded to hear from Natasha, whose well-being I cared for as my own littledaughter, was this simple, sincere and well-intended statement. I immediatelyexpressed my delight in receiving this message and I told her that her honestgesture would help both of us to walk light in life… without any fear, guilt, blameor anger. I assured my helping hand whenever required and, above all, I toldher that I would respect her need to be alone.

I had a choice to putan end to all this by just ignoring it as ‘such a small stuff’ in life. Or, tokeep pestering her to come around and be nice to me as she always had been… Or,to act like an Alexander-the-Great and tell her on her face, “To hell with you,ma’am!”

And, yes, I had thischoice too: To trust in another soul’s goodness… be compassionate… be a littlemore large-hearted in my approach… and handle a relationship with sensitivityand care… God forbid, I did not want a fine relationship to come to an end on apoisonous note and add more stress in my life. There is already enough.

So, it was all abouta choice. I chose to trust… and I took a risk. Maybe, Natasha could haveignored my gesture… Luckily, she did not. Had she, yes, probably I would havesulked more… experience the whole gambit of human feelings – insecurity, lossof love, hurt and betrayal… blame and anger… and after that what?

Yes, after that what?

Was it Natasha’s lifeor was it my life I was so keen to put on track?

Natasha wants to bealone, precisely for this reason. She has realized that no one else can put herlife on track… except she herself. So, she wants to be alone for some time, seethings in proper perspective… and, that is the sanest thing she can do, at thisstage. The worst thing would be: to allow the hurt and pain turn into poison inher soul. She realized it andthat’s why she instantly, reconciled with me.

I do the same, everymorning. It is my life… and I do it alone… through my journal – my writings, myconfessions. It helps me… heals my wounds, makes me feel liberated from thebondage of blame, guilt, victimization and hostility. It makes me feelconfident happy and successful. Moreover, it helps me grow in life as a veryconstructive and contributing kind of human being. And yes, very, veryspiritual… very much connected to my dear, dear friend and well-wisher, my God!

And, yes Kumar, thisis my way of chasing the Ghosts out of my body!

Incidentally, justbefore Christmas, I had gifted a beautiful New-year dairy to Natasha andencouraged her to write down her thoughts – as she felt them – so that shecould grow stronger, finer and wiser in life. But, as Kumar admitted, everybodycan not do that…

Everybody can notsend ghosts out of their body the way I do… by writing so beautifully aboutthem!

“Kumar, my writingscome from my good intentions. I mean well for me and everyone around. As you do…and as my dear and innocent student Natasha does. If not writing, you canalways pick up the phone and say what you want to say… You can always open yourheart before someone and say how scared you are… how confused, how guilty… and,how angry. If no one is there to tell to, you can tell it to God… Trust me, Hewould surely listen.

“Good intentions piercethrough even our deadliest enemy’s heart. Every move that you make shouldspring from your good intention… You mean well for others… and, that is the keyfor your own well-being. Learn to communicate even your worst thoughts in themost sincere and fearless manner… Keep no extra baggage, keep no woundsunattended… walk light, and walk with your head high. There is no peace in theworld outside… the world is within you.”

On the 26^thof this month, my wife’s colleague, Himali died of breast cancer. She wasbarely 31 and had left behind her young husband and their six-year-old son ingreat sorrow. Just a few months ago, Himali had been to Russia with allher colleagues, including my wife. My wife spoke fondly about those memories…Hemali, probably knew what was going to come… and she lived every moment in Russia to thefullest. There was no sign of self-pity, pain, fear or regret… and they had beautiful timebeing together. And, then, on 26^th morning, some one called my wifeto tell, “Himali is no more!”

Even in the mostbiting chill of Russia,my wife hadn’t frozen. On hearing this news, she did!

I am 53 and my wifeis 44.

Natasha is 17 and Kumar, I do not know.

“But, let me tell you this,Kumar.

Everything happens in the NOW – today.

Yes, love, hate, faith, fear,

appreciation, envy…

anger andreconciliation.

NOW is really the time to heal

your own wounds

and to healsomeone’s too.

If peace is your deep intention,

do whatever it takes...”

I do not want to diea bitter soul… Nor do I wish to leave someone so when I die. I will do whateverit takes to do away the bitterness…

These ghosts return…

My good intentionwill take care of them!

Love you Kumar, loveyou Natasha… Love you LIFE!

* The name is changed

GERALD D’CUNHA

GRIHA PRAVESH

2012-01-28T13:46:00.003+05:30

There is a simple spiritual law. It goes like this:

“When you leave a place – any place - youleave it in a better condition than you found it when you first came in.”

Well, it says, ‘Anyplace’!

Just a while from now,Mr. Kamal * and his family are all set to step into their new house. Theauspicious moment is just round the corner… and, they have invited my family,too. I have asked the Florist to deliver a lovely bouquet at the stroke of theclock… “Wish you and your family all happiness, prosperity and peace, dearKamal,” I have written on the note.

What a happy momentfor young Kamal and his family!

Incidentally, the manwho sold that house to Kamal was not liked by anyone around. He had lived inthat house for nearly five years… and, during all these five years, he had beena chronic complainant… mean and vengeful… short-sighted and selfish.

Well, it is not myperception… It is the general perception of everyone around here.

Five years ago, whenthis man had come to stay here, he must have come with big dreams… They say, hewas not liked by the people there, too, and he was literally banished from thatplace. Now, here, in the company of similar men, he continued to live by hisold ways… and, he carried himself when he landed here, five years ago.

People don’t changejust because they have moved to a big house… Wherever they go, they carrythemselves!

Two days back, whensome of us were talking, this man happened to come. “Only two days for mehere,” he said, maybe hoping to find some sympathy.

None even raised aneyebrow!

“Good riddance… Whytwo days, get lost today itself!” This was how all of us had felt. Yes, he hadpolluted this place… He was leaving it in a condition worse than how it waswhen he came in.

And, today, young andfriendly Kamal is moving into this house. He was on rent in this very complexfor the last five years… and, even though he did not own any house, every oneout here loves him and his family…

So, Kamal will carryhimself to the new house!

Yes, he will carrythe goodness, happiness, prosperity and, above all, peace.

He will leave, oneday, leaving this place in a condition much, much better than how it is now. Ihave no doubts about it.

Leave the place alittle better than how you found it whenyou first came in!

Does this spiritual law also apply to relationships?

I think, it does.

As a teacher,

I willapply this law

to send my students as much better

a lot

than how I found them

when they first came to me.

As a father… As ahusband… As a business associate… As a friend… As a neighbor… As a Societymember or as its Chairman… As a co-passenger… As a well-wisher… As whatever…

Yes, the spirituallaw is at play everywhere, every day…

I should not leave myplace making it ‘dirty’…

I should not leaverelationships making them ‘dirty’, either!

The time for ‘Griha Pravesh’ is here…

The time to make myhome a better one…

I have come… in you, dear...

When I leave you,your heart will surely tell me –

That I have left youa lot happier, a lot richer
And yes, a lot more peaceful.

* The name is changed

GERALD D’CUNHA

DEAR, I CARE FOR YOU...

2012-01-28T09:28:00.003+05:30

Mind is weak…

And, it loses faithin the goodness

Of other people,

And fast.

At one moment,

My mind makes me feelsecure

Just by a passingthought of a loved one…

But, the next moment,

Just a skipped call

Could make my mindfeel very lost and lonely…

Am I lost and lonely

Because I did not hearmy loved-one’s voice?

Or, is it because Idid not hear my own?

Every time I tell myloved-one,

“Dear, I care for you”,

I do get the reply,

“Yes dear, I care foryou, too.”

Now, the deal is done…

I have promised tocare for you,

And you have done thesame to me…

Yes, it looks likethe pact is sealed…

And we shall be foreverfloating

Among the lovely starsin the skies.

But then, we are onthis trembling ground…

Still unable tocomprehend

The depth of thatpromise

We just made to eachother:

“Dear, I care for you”!

I keep asking you – “Doyou still love me?”

And, you keep asking me– “What about you?”

Mind is weak…

Love and care doesn’tlook like

A job of this mind…

No, it is incapable

Ofloving and caring.

I prayed to God, justthis morning, once again:

“Lord, help me how tolove another…

Even when I do nothear

That sublime voice fromthe other end,

For days and daystogether…

Help me hear my own:

That, I care and lovemyself enough…

Yes, enough to do thesame for another.”

Mind broods…

Heart rejoices.

If I am not secure inmy own heart,

I shall only be cagedin another’s!

GERALD D’CUNHA

NO ONE HAS KEPT A GUN ON MY HEAD

2012-01-27T14:20:00.000+05:30

WhenI first read the book ‘Loving What Is’, byByron Katie, I had come to realize that stress in my life is the result of an‘unexamined problem’. That, what happens in my life does not cause stress in mylife, but the story that I weave around it , in my mind, does.

So, she urges us towrite down, as clearly as possible, our ‘Problem’… what we think as the causeof our stress… and she leads us, through a very therapeutic inquiry, justthrough her four simple questions…

Mrs. Katie calls this inquiry - 'The Work'.

By the end of dealingwith these four simple questions… yes, when we have answered sincerely these four questions, we will be left with nothing or no oneto blame!

We realize that it is our life, and, hence, it is our business…

Situation changeswhen its perception changes… Till then, we would only go crazy wanting to makea cat bark!

As Mrs. Katie, sobeautifully, tells us that, at the end of all our frantic attempts to do that, thecat will only look at our frantic face and sing - ‘Meow’!

When we see thereality…

as it is…

the blame and pain, both, come to an end…

We becomestress-free…

Light. Peaceful.

Mrs. Katie tells inthis book, that, in life, all of us mind only three businesses: our own, or someone-else's... or God’s.

She shows us, gently,that whenever we step into others’ or God’s business, we invite stress in ourlife. "So, step out of others’ business… and step out of God’s… " She reminds us. "When you focus on your own business, you become light, peaceful."

Today, at 6 in the morning,our door-bell rang. I was awake since 4 as I had to correct some Prilimspapers. I had called my students to my class at 8 am today to collect the same.So, when I opened the door, I saw a middle-aged lady and her young son standingoutside. They seemed a bit agitated. A tree had fallen on their car at 5 in themorning and damaged it badly.

Now, I was the Hon.Chairman of our Society and I had to deal with the situation. My concerns: Istill have so many papers to correct; I have to shave, take bath, organize mybreakfast and lunch… So, the first reaction was ‘irritation’. They wanted me tocome and have a look…

“Why did the Society not cut that ‘dead’ treebefore?” they asked me.

Now, I gently askedthe lady, “Ma’am if the tree was dead, why had you been parking your car rightunder it… Even not allowing anyone else to park his car there?”

“No, no… Societyshould have done something,” she argued.

“Ma’am, it is an accident,beyond our control… Now, let’s see what we can do… Give me some minutes, Iwill put somebody on the job… I have toleave in a short while,” I pacified.

My colleagues arelevel-headed. But, none was available to handle it. I left instructions withthe Security chief, our garden in-charge and a very helpful and tactful seniormember of our Society and I left for my work.

But then, even aftercoming to my classes, I kept co-coordinating the ‘crisis management’ over myphone!

Well, I was quitesuccessful. I did feel good about the way I handled the crisis. But, I wasfeeling annoyed, stressed out, being encroached upon… and even angry andresentful.

“Why did this ladypark her car right under that 'dead' tree... even though she knew it could , any time, collapse on her car?”

“Even if it wasnot dead, who could stop that tree from falling, this morning? Who could stopGod?”

“The car is insured…So, whose headache is it to compensate her?”

“Even if the Societyhas to compensate her, why am I – the Hon. Chairman – taking it ‘personally’ andworried?”

And yes, yes, “Whotold me to become the Hon. Chairman, in the first place? Did anybody keep a gun on my head?”

Katie ma’am, you areright… Thank you.

All is well, by now…

The ‘Inquiry’ isover…

I can see the catsaying ‘Meow’… and, that’s perfectly okay…

Yes ma’am… I amloving it…

Loving ‘What Is’!

GERALD D’CUNHA

WARMED BY THE SAME SUMMER

2012-01-26T16:47:00.000+05:30

Two days ago, I had posted an article – ‘The Sky IsFalling’. I had narrated an incident, where I had led a delegation of abouttwenty respected-members of our Society to the local Police station. I was theSociety Chairman, and, that night, I had passionately argued our case beforethat biased and unfair Police Officer. I had used my raw emotions - allcharged-up – and, it had carried the desired effect. We had come back withjustice done to us.

But then, I had lostmy sleep, that night. The emotional turmoil within had taken its toll. So, inthat article, I had spoken about our senior-member Mr. Harwadekar’s concernabout me; his loving advice – “Gerry, even if the sky falls on you, you shouldnot panic… you should remain calm… You should not let emotions take the betteroff you.”

I had humblytaken this advice. And yes, I had confessed it in that post, the next morning.

No baggage left in mysoul… I was healed, completely!

That very morning, Ireceived a very honest comment from Kumar, a regular reader of myPosts. He had written:

Dear Gerry,

How it is thatevery article you write has a relation in my own life some way or the other?One of my friends always tells me, “You create anger during an argument butdon't get angry". But, I find it extremely difficult to separate thetwo!

Thanks for thefantastic article.

God bless you.

N.Kumar

I got back to Kumar,immediately:

"Kumar, is there a separation between you and me?...
We are connected in deed, Kumar.

Jesus Christ is an epitome of Love. But, The Bible gives enough instances ofhis anger, even of the God Almighty Himself. The Hindu scriptures tell us aboutGod's anger...

You mean well for the other... Then, your emotions - whether anger, fear, orjealousy - they don't matter. Just mean well. That's holistic anger!

Let's be human, the real ones!

Love,

GERRY

I haven’t met Kumar in my life. Only my Blog hasconnected us. He thinks, my writings help him… He can relate each one of themto his own life… Which means: Like me, he loses his head many times a day…feels scared when his wife, Yashoda, still not home till mid-night… sulks, like me, when someone decries him for no reason… and yes,turns green, jealous, when his neighbor, Pillai, wins a five-crore jackpot!

Well, what I really want to say is: We all arehumans. Have the same red blood… same pumping heart… and the same wet eyes.Shakespere so beautifully conveyed this message through his character, Shylock,in his immortal play – ‘Merchan Of Venice’.

Shylock:

I am aJew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands,

organs,dimensions, senses, affections, passions;

fed withthe same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases,

heal'd bythe same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter

andsummer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If

youtickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die?

And ifyou wrong us, do we not revenge? If we are like you in the

rest, wewill resemble you in that.

Why do I write, everyday… and on matters which seem so mundane?

Someone – a‘Maharati’ – told me, last evening: “I don’t become angry.”

"What aboutfear?” I asked, “Don’t you feel afraid?”

“No, I don’t,” hereplied.

“And jealousy?” Ienquired.

“Why should I becomejealous?” he quipped.

I felt like running away from this alien! Even Jesus Christ showed rage, feltfrightened - even insecure - when he came down to live on this Earth. And, thisman – the Superman - was telling me that he did not get angry, afraid orjealous in his life!

Even if I say, “Godbless you,” I know, God won’t!

I do get angry.

I do get afraid.

I do get jealous.

And, I do want to know:

“What is wrong with that?”

And, there they go –my anger, my fear, my envy - like a ghost out of my body…

Leaving me feelingnot just good, but Great. Yes, Great!

Probably, that waswhat made Kumar ask me in his comment, “Dear Gerry, How it is that everyarticle you write has a relation in my own life, in some way or the other?”

And, I also hope, that was what made me replywhen I said, “ Kumar, is there is a 'separation' between you and me?... We are connected, in deed, Kumar!!”

Yes Sir, we are cooled by the same winter… andwarmed by the same summer…
And, yes, yes… If they poison us, we do die!

I wouldn’t have written my Blog posts, if thatwas not so!

GERALD D’CUNHA

LEAVE ME ALONE

2012-01-25T18:04:00.000+05:30

WhenI was in Second-year B’Com, I came across a man in my life. His name was Norman.I was 19 and he must be 30. He had come up in life the hard way and was acompassionate soul. He showed a great deal of interest in me, in my progress… So,he kept directing me, motivating me,even helping me financially.

But then, as months passed by, I felt a lotsuffocated by his approach… Norman was dreaming for me, planning for me and evenfunding for me. Initially, I felt very cared for and loved… I felt a lot gratefulto this soul. But, as I felt the strain of being trampled upon my individualityand freedom, I began to feel the irritation and resistance in my heart. It wassimmering within me for months. Then, one day, around ten of us had been for apicnic. There, some statement this man made towards me triggered off myrebellion. I voiced my discomfort, my loss of freedom – and I found myselfbluntly telling Norman : “Don’t manipulate me… Leave me alone!”

I left that group, immediately…and cried like a baby. Till I felt good about myself.

For long, we did not see each other. One evening, aftersome years, I received a phone call from him, here in Mumbai. I was so thrilledto hear his voice. We met. We spoke about the episode on that hill… and we bothlaughed it out over the dinner.

We both knew, what had gonewrong. He could not crush me in the name of care and love. I could not be anungrateful soul even though I valued my freedom.

That was several years ago.

Later, without realizing allthis, I found myself playing the reverse role. I adored great singers andenvied the tremendous adulation they got from the audience. Similarly, Iloved great sports-stars and simply gotawed by the aura around them. And, here was me - the poor me - always down inthe dumps… So bad in everything - studies, sports, singing or speaking… a chroniccase of inferiority complex. So, I started dreaming for my two youngerbrothers. I wanted Rony to be a great singer, and, Viva a great Cricketer. Theywere very small and susceptible. For many years, I kept directing them, pumpingthem and funding them. And, they did notlet me down. Rony was becoming a rising singing-star in Mangalore… and Viva wasplaying Cricket for the college and moving ahead.

But then, when all this washappening, I never realized – even for a day – that I was playing a Norman in their life.That, they were individuals in their own right… and, I could – and I should –do only so much… and I should leave them alone, free. No, I was still dreamingfor them, planning for them… and even breathing for them. I brought them toMumbai – the ‘Dream City’ – and I was hopingto launch them in a big way.

With in a short time, the obviousthing had to happen. First, Rony expressed his discomfort with all this. He wantedto go back to Mangalore, and he did. After some years, Viva too felt thebreathlessness. He was so overawed by me that he could not tell me what hefelt. One night, when I came home, there was a note waiting for me. “Dattu, Iam so fortunate to have a big brother and a motivator like you. I can notforget what you have done to me in my life. But then dattu, it is time I becamemy own man. Sorry, I am moving out to stay in a hostel. I love you, dattu.Thanks for everything”

It was night. All that I did wasbrooding on it. I was hurt. I was angry. I was restless. I was unable to sleep…By the time my restlessness ended, I had realized my folly… I reaslised how theobsession with another person’s life – all in the name of love – was a blatantway of imposing on him the burden and pain of my own unfulfilled dreams. It wasclear for me, by now, that I was manipulating my brothers, emotionally. And, Ihad to respect their verdict, now… however bitter it sounded. And, I had to be gracefulin learning this valuable lesson.

I did; and, weall moved on with our lives.

Today, Rony is a very popularsinger in the Konkani circle. Viva stopped playing cricket, but has become afairly successful businessman. And, I have no qualms – and not an iota of arrogance– when I say: We are extremely good to each other… and proud about each other,too. My brothers have remained profoundly grateful to me… and I shall alwaysremain grateful to them for helping me grow-up in my life.

Immediately after this episode, Ihad penned in my dairy this little poem:

GREAT MAN

I tried to make my younger brother

A Great Man.

Day in and day out, I sat with him,

Tired to motivate him, coax him,

Train him, guide him, support him…

And I kept reminding him:

“One day, you shall be Great!”

Many years passed by,

Nothing dramatic happened;

I began to get frustrated… mad!

Then, one day, he coolly told me:

“Brother, there are mountains,

There are plateaus

And, thereare plains.

Is it necessary for every soul on this earth

Tb be Great like a mountain?”

I started thinking,

I started thinking.

Later, I published this poem in theDawn Club inspirational booklet – ‘THE LATE BLOOMER’. Every summer, when wehave our Public-Speaking sessions, our students chose to read some inspiringpassages in the class. This poem is one of their favorites.

Maybe, we all do it. Or, maybe,someone does it to us... always!

Just yesterday, this dramaunfolded in my class.

Vijeta is a very bright andcommitted student. She is also is a level-headed and very socializing kind ofperson. I have been teaching her for the last four years and we have beenhaving an excellent rapport. Never ever she has hurt me, in any way.

However, some days back, when shehad not done her homework, I expressed my annoyance, but not in any angry oroffending manner. I did tell her, “Vijeta, you are planning to become ateacher… How will you deal with your students in a similar situation?”

Suddenly, I saw her face sinking.It seemed, what I had said was not liked by Vijeta… I do not know what madeher sulk… But, after the class, she just left abruptly, evidently irritated andsad, and I was left even more upset. “What did I do to receive this treatment?”I was asking myself, “I am her teacher… She can’t do that to me!”

Then, yesterday, just fifteen minutes beforethe class, I got Vijeta’s call. “Sir, is it okay, if I don’t attend today’s lecture?”

“Why, what happened Vijeta?” Iimmediately asked, “You know, I have just started an important chapter… Youneed to have good hold of the concepts.”

“Sir, today is Kiran’s (Her closefriend and the daughter of one of my dear old students) birthday and she istaking us for lunch,” Vijeta said, probably, hoping that I would be convinced.

“Vijeta, my class will get overat 1.30. Why can’t you join your friends after that?” I countered.

“Sir, the party is in Vashi andwe all have decided to meet in Chembur at 12,” she insisted.

“See Vijeta, I think you shouldnot miss the class… You know, the concepts will help you not only in your examsbut also for teaching,” I persisted.

“”But, sir, it is just one lecture!”Vijeta screamed.

“What? Come again?” I yelled.

“Sir, it is a question of justONE lecture!” Vijeta was aggressive.

I hung the phone.

I could not swallow thatargument. I immediately called-up Dheeraj, Kiran’s dad and narrated to him theincident. He was at home and he told me that he would talk to Kiran about it.“No, let Vijeta attend the class… She can join them a little late,” he agreedwith me. I also wished Kiran and said, “Beti, I am not trying to spoil yourparty; hope you understand.”

“No sir, please don’t think so. Iwill ask Vijeta to attend the class,” Kiran assured me.

When I entered the class at 12.30sharp, Vijeta was already there!

Other students were still coming.I did not immediately say anything to Vijeta. Nor, did she seem apologetic. Herface was grim and when I saw that, I had already said this:

“Vijeta, can I ask something toyou?”

She looked grimly at me to mean,“Now what? I am already P….. off with you!”

“Tell me Vijeta, tomorrow whenyou become a teacher and stand here in my place, how would you deal with such asituation?” I asked.

Vijeta was waiting to explode.“Sir, I have been extremely regular… Mohit bunks so many classes, Veena does,Reema does, Anil does, Shree does… I don’t skip my homework, but everyone elsedoes,” Vijeta had decided to confront me.

“Yes, you know how I feel aboutthem when they do that repeatedly, Vijeta. You want me to feel the same aboutyou?” I put it emotionally charged.

“But sir, I am also a college kidlike them…

I love my friends, I love my share of fun…

and I think you are expectingtoo much from me… and I feel that’s unfair…

I can not handle it, sir.”

Vijetawas on the verge of breaking.

I was stunned!

The other students were watchingus. The atmosphere was all tensed. I knew I was doing more harm than good bythrowing my weight as a teacher.

“Vijeta is right,” I told theclass, “Sometimes, we teachers don’t realize how much we pressurize ourstudents. I am sorry Vijeta.”

“Sir, you don’t have to say sorryto me… But, I just felt like telling what I was feeling all along,” Vijetatried to pacify me.

“Still, you have a point… and Imust accept it, ” I said and started theclass.

Incidentally, it helped me toteach well… and I could see Vijeta a lot relieved after that showdown with me.

After the class was over, I came tomy office. I wanted to be alone for a while. Just then, the door opened. “Sir Iam really sorry for hurting you,” it was Vijeta.

“No Vijeta, I realized I wasburdening you with my expectations… and, you were feeling a lot suffocated. Iam sorry,” I said completely mellowed down.

“Sir, please, don’t say that. Youwere right… But, it was me unable to handle that weight,” Vijeta quickly said,“Today, I just wanted to make my friend happy by being there.”

I was silent for a while. Then, Imanaged a smile, which – I am honest when I say this – did come from my pain… Igently said, “Vijeta, in life, we try to make someone happy without realizingthat how unhappy it can make someone else!”

“I am sorry sir,” Vijeta said,again.

“I am sorry Vijeta,” I repeated.

Norman was a good soul… He meant well for me.I know that even though I had screamed at him on that hill – “Leave me lone”.

I am a good soul, too. I meantwell for my brothers and my student, Vijeta. They know that – I am sure – eventhough they have screamed at me – “Don’t manipulate me”.

What goes around… yes, does comearound!

*Except in the case of my brothers, all other names have been changed in thispost.

GERALD D’CUNHA

THANKS:
The image used in this Post isby Ashok Ahuja. He is a professionalPhotographer and a very dear friend of mine. He is also one of the foundermembers of The Dawn Club, and, along with his gifted-artist wife, Sudha, has been helping me, and theClub, right from its inception.

THE CHESS GAME

2012-01-23T13:38:00.002+05:30

Everyday is a new day;

It comes with new challenges todeal with.

And, it comes with new opportunities

To learn and grow…

To become wiser, finer andstronger in life.

Hence, there are no problems, notroubles in life…

There are only opportunities

To become fine human beings.

I must thank God for my daily troubles–

For the wonderful opportunities

That He serves me, each day.

I, therefore, ask God

Not for a day without problems,

But for the wisdom and strengthto deal with them…

So that I can build a mind ofsteel and a soul of gold.

This morning, my friend, Soniya, forwarded

This inspiring message to me:

“Life is like
Playing chess with God.

After your every move,

He makes the next move…

Your moves are called ‘Choices’…

His moves are called ‘Challenges’.

Today, God has sent me many opportunities…

“Thank You, Lord. Thank you.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

LORD, AS YOU DO WITH ME...

2012-01-23T10:14:00.003+05:30

Helpme Lord

To keep alive in my soul

Eternally

The flame of love…

Love with real care,

Love with hard, long patience,

Love with profound faith,

Love with enduring resilience,

Love with childlike hope,

Love with Herculean strength…

Yes, help me Lord

To love…

To grow in it…

In LOVE.

Lord, You have not condemned meto the hell-fire

Even though I am so full of sins;

Help me do the same with myfellow-men…

To love them despite their sins,

Never, ever to sit on a judgmentseat,

Help me to weed out the sins

From the garden of their souls…

And pick only the lovely roses…

Yes Lord, as You do with me.

Help me Lord

To triumph over my insecuritiesand fear,

Love giving freedom…

Enough space to breathe and grow,

Love with out losing my zest,

Love without turning bitter in life...

And never ever to love

As per my swinging moods.

Help me Lord

How to give,

How to receive,

And how to grow…

In LOVE.

GERALD D’CUNHA

THE SCHOOL OF LOVE

2012-01-21T12:31:00.003+05:30

Iseriously feel, this world would have been a much, much better place to live in… and, our heartswould have been much lighter and our lives would have been so much happier – Yes,had we all assumed in our minds less.

Most of our assumptions arebaseless… and, they are the root cause of our worry and, thereby, our sorrowand unhappiness.

My young son lives in a hostel inPune where he studies Animation. Last evening, I had a very strong urge in myheart to talk to him and I called him up on his cell. It was ringing… but, hewas not picking up. “This is not college hours, he can pick up… He should,” Ireasoned in my mind. I tried a couple of times without any success. Finally, Isent a message enquiring about him and expressing my love… My strong urge tosay “Hi’ to him… and how I missed him.

But, till this morning, he didnot get back to me!

The strong urge to say “I loveyou, son… I miss you,” by now, had turned into a strong bitterness, a pain… andI was angry.

“He can’t be so callous andinsensitive to me,” I grumbled in my mind, “I am his father.”

When you love, you arevulnerable. I have no doubt about it. If I miss my son and if I strongly yearnto tell him that, I think that is true love. I did that, last evening.

But, then, my son did not validatemy feelings… He did not pick up my incessant calls nor did he respond to mymessage. So, I am hurt. Bitter. Angry. I have the right for my feelings… I havethe right to tell him so. “That’s also love,” I argued.

Therefore, this morning, just around10.30, I called him up, again. It was ringing and ringing… and, my mind was boilingup. “This is the limit, son. Better don’t do it to me, again,” my wounded mindwarned. “He knows it is me… and, does it on purpose.”

“Hello dad,” the voice on theother end sounded dead-sleepy, “Sorry, I was fast asleep,” my son had finallypicked-up the phone!

Today is a Saturday, and it is aday off to them, normally. They get up late on Saturdays, skip their breakfastand, sometimes, even their lunch. But, they catch-up with their sleep!

Why do they do that?

Because, their studies demandthem to be night-hawks. They have projects with deadlines… regular submissionsand presentations. Grading is strict. Attendance is strict. Late-entry to theclass would be a snake-and-ladder experience. They sit till late at night –some times the whole night – in their Lab to complete their projects. So, theyare on the edge most of the times. Our son has told about this to us many timesand I have understood it, well. Still, since last evening, my mind would keeptelling me, “No, he does it on purpose.”

This morning, when my son came onthe line, I did tell him that I had tried to talk to him last evening, andabout my message. “Yes dad, I saw the missed calls and I also read your message,” he told me gently, “But,I was very tired and sleepy as we had not slept for two nights successively. Ithought I would get back to you later…”

Was that love?

Oh yes, it was. It is!

If I had loved my son, really so,I had to trust in his honesty. He did not lie when he said what he had. My arguments- “Still, he could have”… Yes, that is my problem, my human weakness.

And, recognizing that my mind,

often, assumes –

keeps judging, analyzing

and scrutinizing others –

is a partof my growing-up in love.

I have a long, long way to go inthis ‘basic school’ where they teach – “How to Love.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

FINDING OUR WAY

2012-01-20T12:36:00.001+05:30

Mrs.Joseph had come to see me

Just a while ago…

She wanted me to teach her son,Jordon

For his crucial Twelfth,

Which he will be in the comingyear.

“Sir, Jordon is a very intelligentkid, full of potential,”

Mrs. Joseph told me,

“He only seems lost… Not givinghis best.”

She continued, “Sir, I want youto help him

Get hold of himself…Work to hisfull potential.”

I smiled and re-assured,

“Ma’am, don’t worry, Jordon willfind his way…

He will work to his full potential.”

I told her about me…

How lost I was…

How I discovered myself late, andslowly…

How the pressure of provingmyself to anyone began to drop…

How work became pleasure…

How motivation became as normalas my breathing.

“Yes… but then, sir!”

I sensed Mrs. Joseph wanted totell me,

“Jordon is not you, not Gerry!”

I felt that anxiety of aconcerned mother…

And, I told her in my heart:

“Ma’am, I wish you had met mewhen I was like Jordon!”

I re-assured her,

“I was not Jordon either…

I was miles behind him!”

GERALD D’CUNHA

THANKS:
The image used in this Post isby Ashok Ahuja. He is a professionalPhotographer and a very dear friend of mine. He is also one of the foundermembers of The Dawn Club, and, along with his gifted-artist wife, Sudha, has been helping me, and theClub, right from its inception.

THE IDOL WORSHIP

2012-01-20T10:49:00.004+05:30

Theidol

Does not become sacred

Even if I pour the choicest ofthe milk –

And barrels of it -

Yes, even if I do it
From dawn to dusk...

And, for years.

Nor will my mantras,

Even if I chant them
Without taking asolitary breath,

Make me a holy man...
Yes, even for a solitary moment.

Last night, I suddenly realized

That I was telling someone –

“I love you, I love you”,

For too long a time

Without even breathing…

And suddenly,

I felt I must stop chanting my mantras,

I must stop pouring the milk…

I must breathe!

And when I did,

The idol looked so majestic, sosacred…

Yes, for the first time -

After a million desperateattempts

To express my reverence to it.

I gathered my courage and toldthe idol:

“I have no milk to pour on you, today…

I have no mantras to chant for you…

I want to breathe…

After a long, long time.”

“Fool,” I heard the voice behindthe idol:

“Pouring milk was your idea

Of making me sacred;

I am sacred, any way,

Even without your barrels of milk.”

Before I could allow that to soakme,

I heard the voice telling me more:

“Chanting mantras was your belief

That you would turn holy;

I can see your holiness

Only when your heart is still…

No, not when you are lost in adaze.”

“I love you” -

Are not just three words…

They are three ‘Worlds’ –

Mine, Yours and God’s!

I can feel my heart beating…

Beating as I breathe…

As your image fades…

As the ‘Idol Worship’ ends…

And , as I really learn to loveyou.

GERALD D’CUNHA

THANKS:

The image used in this Post isby Ashok Ahuja. He is a professionalPhotographer and a very dear friend of mine. He is also one of the foundermembers of The Dawn Club, and, along with his gifted-artist wife, Sudha, has been helping me, and theClub, right from its inception.

THE FIRST FRUIT

2012-01-19T14:07:00.002+05:30

Today,too, I received on my cell-phone, some inspiringtexts from my well-wishers. As I always say, the best thing that can happen toyou, early in the morning is: the thought that someone, far away, is thinkingabout you, your well-being. It really feels good. You do feel like a ‘winner’in life!

And, today, I received, early inthe morning, these two messages.

Shankar was my student more thantwo decades ago. He, along with his two friends – Rohan and Neeraj, were veryclose to me. Then, they graduated, did their respective MBA’s and otherPost-Grads, and settled well in life. They got married, for which they didremember me. They kept in touch for some years, and as life demands of us, theygot too absorbed building-up their respective families. We lost contact.

And, this morning, I receivedthis message from Shankar:

“Sir, we are extremely excited toannounce that we are blessed with a beautiful baby daughter…
Both, mother andbaby are fine.”

Simultaneously, another messageflashed. It was from Abro.

Abro passed out histwelfth-standard some years ago, and joined the Hotel Management studies it thefamed Government Catering Collegein Dadar. He kept me updated about hisprogress all through his Hotel Management studies. Today, the message said:

“Good Morning sir, I got my firstoffer letter – Management Trainee
fr Yum grp Kfc and pizza hut .. the outletsare all over India.”

I felt extremely happy forShankar and Abro. Shankar was sharing the news of the birth of their firstchild… and Abro about his first job. I immediately called them up and wished.“Shankar, may the little star shine bright… Our love, kisses and blessings,” Itold Shankar. “Abro, may you shine even more,” was what I said to Abro.

Why did Shankar, after over twodecades, felt the need to share his happiness with me?

Why did Abro?

I do not know why.

But, it mademe feel good about myself.

More so,

when I really, really felt happy for them.

There was a time, yes when I wasvery small in my native village… When a new baby was born, they would die tobreak the news to the Parish priest of the church. On the baptism day, the babywould be placed at the feet of Lord… and they would pray silently.

And, there was this time, when ayoung one got his first job, the familywould offer a special mass in the church… and, when the first salary came, theywould hand it over to the church… To the Lord. That was the silent promise theyhad made to Him!

And, there was this time, whenthey received the first fruit in their garden, they would take it to the Lord… andonly after that, they would taste the rest.

We still do it… Yes, even here ina busy city like Mumbai. Only, in a different way. Some wait for the crow tocome and take his first bite… Only then would they savour the food. Some wantthe Priests to take their meals first, and then would they go about eating.And, some, like Shankar and Abro, remember someone like me – their dear teacher– before they would ‘eat’ their GardenFresh – their first fruit!

GERALD D’CUNHA

THE FULL-MOON

2012-01-18T16:15:00.003+05:30

I amin a mood of writing about dogs, today! Just a while before, I have posted one:‘A Baby Becomes A Buzzo’. Here is one more.

“A dog may bark at the Moon,” myidol, Prof. B.S.Raman had bursted out , one day, angrily , at one of my classmates, “But,the Moon will not lose its shining.”

I do not remember the context:Why did he cry so? And, who was that classmate of mine that provoked the outburst, and why?

Our village dogs always howledthrough the night. Sometimes, at the trespassers – both men and beasts -sometimes, at the burglars, and, sometimes, just when the Moon shone, up in thesky, in its full glory! The dogs would simply look to the skies and keephowling, and keep howling! Then, they would feel tired, breathless. The howlingwould end. They would go to sleep. And, they would open their eyes again, lookup and howl, all over again. When the steam was out, they would stop howlingand go back to sleep.

This would go on and on tillsomeone, whose night these night-howlers had ruined, would come from behind andcane them hard… so hard, that they would think ten times before looking up…Leave alone howling!

When I was in school, a teacherhad told us a touching story which I do not clearly remember. “On a full-moonday, you can see a howling dog… there, up inside the Moon,” I vaguely remember hertelling us, the little ones. Probably, on every full-moon night, our villagedogs, on sighting another dog in the skies… would howl at him. They probablyenvied him. To them, it was not the Moon that shone… It was the dog… And, our poor village-dogs did not like it, even a bit.

So, howl they would,

on everyfull-moon day –

all through the night -

just hoping to make that dog in the sky

stop shining.

Just hoping to get even with him,

here on earth!

Suddenly, today, I remembered all thesevillage dogs… the dog in the Full-Moon… and, that tender story of my schoolteacher… and, above all, I remembered that angry outburst of my idol, Prof.Raman:

“A dog may bark at the Moon,”Yes, he had howled, “But, the Moon will not lose its shining.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

A BABY BECOMES A BUZZO

2012-01-18T12:25:00.000+05:30

Hewas born here, just outside my classes, some years ago. The little childrennamed him ‘Buzzo’. He is quite huge, well-built, and has a white-and-goldenbody. She was born just a year later. Again, right outside my classes. She islean and pitch-dark. The children named her ‘Sony’. And, they both have spentall their years, right here in our premises, as husband and wife. Every year,they breed six to eight lovely children. Some live, some die… But, none of themyou find around the parents. Some have gone to better pastures… some have been stonedto death… and, some have been trapped and dragged away in those Municipal Vans.

Just a few days ago, Buzzo andSony have given birth to six lovely children. And, all of a sudden, there is anunusual excitement and joy around here!

Last year, when eight amazingbabies were born to these parents, we all thought this world was a wonderfulplace to live in! The little children would go crazy fondling these babies.Every afternoon, as soon as the school bus landed here, about fifteen children wouldjump off the bus, and fight among themselves just to get hold of one of thebabies… just for a moment… till the conductor would come and drag them away.

Anushka and her close friend, Sarika, both eight-year-olds - would throw their bagsat home, and without even taking their lunch, spend the next couple of hours makinghouses for those babies under the garden benches… and feed them with milk broughtfrom their homes. “Wash your hands before you eat,” their mothers would scream.But, that hardly mattered for these kids. They loved those babies.

Varun andNikita would come to my class on a motor bike. Nikita was mad about thesebabies… She would feed them; and everyday, she would take some of them for ashort ride on the motor bike. And, she would come back and place them neartheir mother, so gently. She also would pester Varun to click her picturesholding those innocent babies close to her bosoms… And Varun, her boy friend,would oblige!

I don’t think she loved him, herMacho, as much as she loved those cute babies!

So, the time to rejoice has come,once again! Some months ago, Vaidehi, my F.Y. BMS student, was taking theround-about way to come to my classes. “Why do you take such a long way to cometo my class?” I had asked her, one day. “I am afraid of that big dog.” Buzzowas huge, looked ferocious… but, he would never ever bark at or harm any of ourstudents, no matter what. Still, some of our students, like Vaidehi, would beafraid and try to run away from him.

Two days ago, I saw this sameVaidehi - and her friend Manali – both,literally fallen over the new-borns and having glorious time! “Be carefulmadams,” I cautioned, “Their mother may attack you.”

“No sir, she won’t,” was ourVaidehi’s confident reply!

This morning, I had sent off mystudents after my lecture. Suddenly, I heard someone running back to me and ask,“Sir, do you have a bowl?” It was my Eleventh-standard student, Aanchal.

“Bowl? For what?” I asked her.

“We want to feed milk to thepuppies,” Aanchal was excited.

They had asked the doodhwala tostop his bicycle near the puppies. I cut an empty Bisleri bottle with a knife,to make it look like a cup, and gave it to Aanchal. “Be careful madam; their mother mayharm you,” I cautioned her, too.

“No way, sir,” was Aanchal’sreply, too.

“Are you ready for fourteen injections?”I asked her.

“I don’t mind.” Yes, it seemedso!

For the next half-an-hour, three of them – Aanchal, Kartik and Kush – had a blissful time!

All my students, when they cuddlethose babies, I feel very happy. What a way to love, care and give… What aninnocence… How beautiful life is when it is full of innocence… When there is noexpectation, no blame, no complaints, no criticism , no harshness ofback-biting, no weight of old grudges, no pain of betrayal or even the heavy stoneof hostility… How, nice it would be to remain babies all our life… How nice itwould be to see others as babies and just love them so!

No, Life is never meant to be so.A baby becomes a Buzzo… and you no more pick him up to caress!

Sony feeds the babies. When sheis ready to feed, all six of them would scramble to reach her nipples. Yes, thebabies scramble… and hard. The tough ones get first, and they are fed. The weakones struggle and, sometimes, don’t even get a sip! The mother, when the timeis up, simply walks away… without even looking back, not even thinking who willgo without food!

Just in a few days, thoseunfortunate ones will die! Hungry!

My students, perhaps, have notwitnessed this tragedy of their life. “SOOOOOO Sweet!!!” This is what they have witnessed. “SOOOOOO Cute!!!”

I don’t like to draw theirattention

to this side of the story.

A good story has everything, they know:

Joy and Sorrow,

Love and Betrayal,

Victory and Defeat…

Success and Fall!

I had left home, this morning,very, very annoyed. The door had been just banged. It is not the baby I hadseen… it was Buzzo!

And, I can vouch: Buzzo is a nicesoul! A gentleman!

“I am sorry dear… I love you… Ilove the innocence… I love this drama called LIFE!!!”

GERALD D’CUNHA

THANKS:

ONE MORE CHANCE...

2012-01-17T11:16:00.003+05:30

Everydisagreement

With another means:

You have one more chance to learn

How to respect, honor, valueanother view.

Every argument with another means:

You have one more chance to know

What works for you and what against.

Every unfair criticism fromanother means:

You have one more chance to learn

To believe in yourself…

Value, respect and honor

What you hold to be fair andjust.

Every heartbreak that comes

Like a bolt from the blue means:

You have one more chance

To nurture your soul

And awaken the spring of goodness

That you never thought buried sodeep within you.

Every hell-bent tormentor

Who so relentlessly coups

To destroy your child-like spiritmeans:

You have one more chance to learn

What patience is…

What compassion and forgivenessare.

Every tear that you shed

And every smile that you sendmean:

Life is beautiful…

Yes, so beautiful!

GERALD D’CUNHA

TO LAUGH WITH YOU AND CRY WITH YOU...

2012-01-16T13:42:00.004+05:30

Twenty-one years ago, Fr. Reggie Pinto had celebrated our nuptial massin Mangalore. Last night, I was so delighted to meet him in Mumbai at theamazing grounds of Holy Family church in Andheri. He had come, all the way formMangalore, to celebrate the nuptial mass of his niece, the gorgeous Marishka,and her handsome groom, Adrian. Fr. Reggie was also there to raise the toast forthe lovely newly-wed.

Fr. Reggie is young andholds very young views as well. This makes him gel extremely well with theyoung generation. You feel relaxed when you are with him. And, you also feel alot accepted and respected as you converse with him.

Last night, after hehad done with his toast-raising, he spent, along with his elderly mom, the restof the time chatting with us around our table.

Some months ago, Fr.Reggie had lost his father who was close to 90. ‘Pinto Master’… this was how Fr.Reggie’s dad was called fondly by everyone in the village. He and his wife –Maggie aunty – were both teachers… and amazing teachers they were!

Last night, Fr. Reggiespoke to me, at length, about his parents’ commitments to their teachingprofession , social responsibilities and,above all, to their marriage and family.

Pinto Master loved hisstudents so much that he would teach them, free of charge, at home after theschool hours… Often, these students would come from far away places and Maggie aunty would serve them food and make themstay back for the nights. This was a common feature at their residence. Pinto Masterwould, later, help these youngsters in writing their Job applications and evenuse his contacts to obtain jobs for them. People coming to seek emotional helpwas a regular feature.

After his retirement,Pinto Master kept himself fruitfully busy. He was active in the churchactivities. He was a terrific script-writer, actor and director. On GoodFriday, he would make sure, the worshippers cried as they watched his play - ‘ThePassion of the Christ’! He served as the Church Administrator for solidtwenty-five years. Whenever a wedding or any other celebration popped up in thevillage, it was Pinto Master – the main Chef. Fr. Reggie told me last night,that his dad had handled a crowd of three thousand… and efficiently. Any eventin the village – Christening, Communion, Marriage, Ordination, Jubilee or Death– Fr. Reggie’s parents were there right in the front, all in command!

What fascinated me themost was the legendary God-parenting. Fr. Reggie’s parents had ninety-nine Godchildren! One short of a century – because, a massive paralytic attack had comeon the way, and very badly!

For thirteen longyears, Pinto Master spent his days on his wheel-chair and bed. For anincredibly active and useful person like him, it was simply the most painfulthing that could happen. But, it happened. Hundreds of his students, who werenow settled well in life, would come to visit him… Thousands of well-wishers andneighbors – of all castes and creed – would pray for him. Scores of Priestswould send prayers to God from their altars. But, Pinto Master had to spend hislast years in the manner God had wished…

Yes, in spite of allthe good work he had performed and the noble life he had chosen to live!

I remembered the famousbook, “Why Bad Things Happen to Good People?”

The answer can only bemystical… Yes, only mystical!

But, then, there wasMaggie aunty in the life of Pinto Master. His wife. Years and years had gone bysince she had held his hand at the altar of God and said:

I, Margaret, take you, Robert,

to be my lawfully weddedhusband,

my constant friend, my faithful partner

and my love from this day forward.

In the presence of God, our family and friends,

I offer you my solemn vow

to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health,

in good times and in bad,

and in joy as well as in sorrow.

I promise to love you unconditionally,

to support you in your goals,

to honor and respect you,

to laugh with you and cry with you,

and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.

Nearly six decades had passed by sincethat day, since that commitment before God. Fr. Reggie told me last night, thathe had lost count of the number of nuptials he was privileged to preside over.But, every time he made the young couple take that one vow of marriage, hisvoice would crack and heart would tremble. “It is the most humbling thing thatI have come across in my Priesthood,” Father told me last night, almost choked , talking about the kind of commitment his mother had for her husband in herlife.

“Not less than fifty times,during a night, my dad would call her… Lift me up; place me down; change myside; change my pillow; why this food cold; bring me fresh… and, yes, my motherwould do it!” Fr. Reggie narrated to me. “Once, she had to be in the hospitalfor one day for her cataract operation and I opted to be at home with my dad. Imay be a Reverend Father… but, I lost my cool and yelled at him that night,‘Dad, why do you torture me like this? Don’t I have to sleep?…”

“I really wonder how could my momdo so much for all her life,” Fr. Reggie told me. “The real test is when thetimes are bad… and, for thirteen years, the times were really bad for my mom anddad. Like a rock, she stood by him and nursed.”

They had brought to show us ahuge photo album of the funeral photos. Shivers ran down my spine, as I flipped through those pages.The magnificent church was packed with mourners to the hilt… On the altar, there were forty-five Priests to celebrate the final mass for Pinto Master, thegood soul; there were students whose lives were touched by this man’sgenerosity… They had travelled from far away places; there was the Bishop andthere were all those from the village – yes of all faiths – to bid himGood-bye. Above all, there was this frail woman, all heart-broken, standing byhis side till the earth consumed this gentle soul for ever!

“Son, let me have some sleep,this night,” was what she said to Fr. Reggie that night. You can imagine, theremustn’t have been a single night – in all those thirteen long-years – whenMaggie aunty had slept properly!

It was a stunning ambience. Therewas live music and the dance floor was electrifying. It was the last song… thefamous song sung almost by every great singer. Last night, the brilliant youngsinger closed his eyes and sang it for the couple… as the parents and dearestones of the bridal couple wrapped them - gently, slowly and tightly - with those satinblue-and-white ribbons.

Oh, my love, my darling

I'vehungered for your touch,

along lonely time

Andtime goes by,

soslowly and time can do so much

Areyou, still mine?

Ineed your love, I need your love

Godspeed your love to me

Lonelyrivers flow to the sea,

tothe sea

To the waiting arms of the sea

Lonely rivers cry, wait for me,

waitfor me

To the open arms, wait for me

Mylove, my darling,

I'vehungered for your kiss

Are you still mine?

I need your love,

Ineed your love

God, speed your love,

tome.

Then, the song ended...

And the couple kissed!

It took more than an hour forour taxi-man to bring me and my wife home from the wedding venue. It wasmid-night… and, I was unable to speak a single word!

“Marriage is surely not anight!” Last night, I had no honesty left in me to advise the awesome Adrian and Marishka! Yes, that was twenty-one years since I said at the God's altar:

"Dear, I promise to love you...
to laugh with you and cry with you...
in our good times and bad times!"

GERALD D’CUNHA

I AM THE NATION!

2012-01-14T12:05:00.001+05:30

Iam Anna!

Nobody became an ‘AnnaHazare’ just by donning that ‘sexy’ Gandhitopi! Nor did the scourge of corruption go from this country… No, the BlackMoney worth crores and crores of dollars, stacked in those Swiss lockers – as thefolklore goes – has come back to India. No, not yet. The Delhifast ended… and, we thought Anna had won. The Mumbai fast flopped… and wethought Anna got cow-dung on his face!

Yes, in this greatnational pastime – the ‘tamasha’ - we are either with the Government or with theopposition or with Anna.

We are seldom with ourselves!

We expect Anna to dothe ‘the scavenger work’ for us… Clean this mess. This ‘S..t’ calledcorruption!

We are fools of the firstorder… We have pinned hopes on Kasab. Means: When he is hanged, our nation willbe free from terrorism! Now, we have pinned hopes on this old man, Anna… Means:When he fasts, the Government will pass the Bill… and, Bingo! Phut goes thecorruption!

Anna has promised usthis Paradise… The Fools’ Paradise!

“Who has time to wastein a Maidan?” a typical Mumbaikarreacted without even blinking. “Are you going?” I had asked him, when theMumbai fast was just about to take off.

“Will Delhi show repeat?” I further pushed him.

“Delhi? Those fools have no other work… noother entertainment. Here, we worship our trade and train!” he was blunt.

And yes, this Mumbaikarwas right.

I was in Mangalore whenthis Mumbai ‘tamasha’ was going onand the great Parliament debate was going on and on till the mid-night. I haddecided not to read any newspapers or watch TV… I wanted to stay away fromdepressing drama. I did not want to take sides and jump at the end of thematch: “Yey! Anna won… Or Yey the Governent won… Or, Yey, the BJP!”

But, wherever I visitedin my hometown, I was surprised to see the people glued to TV like acricket match! The young kids had an opinion on it. Dan is just in tenth standard,and it was crystal clear that he was very alive politically. He ‘hated’ Anna’sarrogance and, he wanted his show to flop. When it did, I heard him shout, “MyFirst Communion had a bigger crowd than that!”

“Wow!” I thought, “Whata way of telling Anna and his fools – ‘Enough’!”

Well, you may ask me:Where have I put my money? On Anna or the Government or the Opposition?

On none of them!

I have put all my moneyon me!

I am corrupt. And, yes,when I say that I am honest!

In the thick of the Delhi show, about fivehundred young and enthusiastic medical students, young Docs, of a famous Mumbaimedical college had approached their Dean. They wanted leave and permission tojoin the on-going Anti-corruption rally in Mumbai in support of Anna. The Deanagreed on one condition. He made them assemble in the college campus, raisetheir hands to their chests and made them take these Solemn Vows:

“As a Doctor, I shall be honest to the core,”

“I will not overcharge my patients,”

“I shall not take commissions from the labs and otherdoctors,”

“I shall not take commissions from the Medi-claims,”

“I shall not perform sex-detection tests,”

“I shall not evade Income tax,” …. And so on!

At the end of thisassembly, none of these young Docs wanted Anna to end corruption!

I am corrupt. Let mefast unto death… to free myself of this scourge!

Yes, the Kingdom of Heaven lies here – here within my heart!

This is the only Paradise… Till it doesn’t come, nothing else will!

I don’t need an Anna totell me I am corrupt!

I am the Nation.!

I am not Anna!

GERALD D’CUNHA

IT IS SO COLD OUTSIDE!

2012-01-13T11:03:00.005+05:30

It is very, very cold, here, in Mumbai! Delhi is too much, I know. And HimachalPradesh and Punjab is unbearable. Kashmir is beyond my imagination!

For us, this much isjust bearable. In the mornings, we find it particularly chilly… A cup of hot,hot tea or coffee! Wow!

Every morning, ourdoodhwala boy rings our bell around 6.30 or so. Yesterday, when I opened thedoor, I instantly said, “How do you manage? Wear something thick.”

“Okay sir; thank yousir,” he said with a very broad smile.

Maybe, no one must havesaid such things to him! I hope, I not trying to play a Noble Man here. I didfeel what I had said, that early morning when it was too cold outside, made thedoodhwala boy happy.

I had an old sweater,which I was not using for years. I kept it ready last night to give him when hewould ring our bell this morning. So, there was a pleasant surprise to him whenI handed over that sweater… The smile was ever broader!

In the same way, themiddle-aged lady, who comes to our place do prepare roties every morning, feelsvery happy when I offer a cup of hot tea to her every morning. It is not socold only for me… It is for this slogging woman, too!

Just when I reach mySociety gate, around 7.45 or 8 in the morning, I see those security men, two ofthem very old, who have still not finished their night duty…all in the open! Iam the Chairman of the Society. The least I can do for them is: “Kaka, how didthe night go?”

And, the worst wouldbe: throwing my weight around them… because I am the Chairman of the Society!

It is so cold for thesepoor watchmen too… and more so, because, they have spent the night right underthe chilly skies!

It doesn’t cost us todo these spontaneous acts.

Many do for their own reasons.

I do it for my own.

ThoughI have not much analyzed

why I do what I do -

I think,
empathy and compassion
are very dear personal-values to me.

And, others do, in their own little way…

fortheir own reasons.

Some give biscuits forthe street-dogs every morning on their way to the offices. Wow! Look at thehappiness of those dogs! Their tails tell you how happy they are!

Some offer grains tothe pigeons every morning… And look how many pigeons– hundreds of them – come,know not from where - to receive their fill. And, look at their happiness… When they flutter and go back, you can feelthat!

Some go, late at night –almost every night – to handover the left-over food to those who sleep on theroads. And these unfortunate ones do tell “Thank you, sir… Good night”!

And, then, after takingthat ‘dinner’… they go back to sleep on those roads… and those dividers!

It is so cold outside!

GERALD D’CUNHA

GIVE US OUR DAILY BREAD

2012-01-12T15:24:00.000+05:30

There is a place called ‘Thaneer Bhavi’ in Mangalore. Translatedfrom Kannada, it means ‘cold-water well’. I do not know how this name has comeabout… In Konkani, we used to call this place ‘Thantrebail’. I do not know whatthat means, either. But, I know this much: it is a beautiful beach!

My earliest memoryabout this place was going there with my parents when I was very small. Therewas no direct access to this beach. We would first go to a place called ‘SultanBatteri’. It was a small, ancient fort built by Tipu Sultan on the banks of ariver. From this spot, a local boat had to ferry us across to this littleisland-like place – ‘Thaneer Bhavi’. No beach in Mangalore is safe forswimming, including this one. But, I still remember I would simply jump withjoy whenever I was around this place.

The locals were mostlyChristians from the fishing community. A small church stood right in the midstof those windy beach-trees. Wow! That quiet beauty! This church would come inmy dreams, so often, later in life. So, after several years, when I had been toManglaore this time, I told Joe to take me there. He took me by the broad,beautiful road that they have now built to reach there. Presently, the place isa tourist attraction. The church is now renovated… The majestic wind-trees arecut to make more open space for the church. However, when I stepped outside thecar, I got into the old-theme… Christmas was just over… The stars and the crib werestill there to welcome us… The little local children played cricket inside thechurch compound. We went inside the church and spent some quiet moments. Iallowed myself to pass through the images I would see in my dreams… till thetears in my eyes dried up.

When we came out of that silent church, the youngparish-priest came out to take us inside his room. There, I shared with him thereason why I was there. “You must me the hundredth person to tell me that,”this young Father told us. “I some how have this strong feeling that the Graceof Mother Mary is acting upon you.”

I do not know, whethermiracles happen that way. But, something was always calling me there in mydreams. I went. I sat in that quietness. I prayed. I cried. If that was MotherMary’s Grace, so be it. Thank you Father, I am touched, blessed!

Two days later, myyounger brother, Vivek, took me to one of his friends’ ‘mansion’ on thewaterfront right next to ‘Sultan Batteri’. It was late evening; the Sun had hadalready gone home… and the vast lush-green expanse of this ‘mansion’ lookedlike the magnificent Taj Mahal on the banks of river Yamuna. To me, it was evenmore stunning as it stood, gloriously, right facing the river… and then youcould see the little strip of the island and the roaring Arabian sea.

This man is young andhas made lots of money at an early age. He has built this house and lives in itwith his wife and two children. The house is like a palace…and it is fortified.A guard would peep from his security cabin and decides to allow you in or not.A handful of bodyguards keep an eye on everything that happens around… Thereare cameras capturing your movements … Two boats are anchored in the jetty,specially erected, right outside… A beautiful 40-seater boat and astate-of-the-art motor-boat can give you some joy ride. There is a BMW, anAudi, a Merc and a couple of fine SUV’s. There is a sports bike… and they sayit has cost him close to twenty lakhs!

When you enter theking-size drawing room, you feel guilty to step on those ultra-luxuriousfloorings… even to sit on the ultra-fine sofas. You can see the finest brandsof spirits here in that bar, if you haven’t seen anywhere before.

I had always dreamt ofthis place.

I had dreamt of a small house

that quietly faced that river,

the island and the sea…

Of sitting inmy easy-chair

and watching the glorious sunset…

Of falling in love with thesilence,

the imagery...

the incredible ambience.

I had always dreamt of such asetting

to write my poems…

my beautiful stories…

Wow! Wow! Wow!

So, when I visited thisplace, I felt extremely jealous of this young man. “Mother Mary, why have younot blessed me with such a place to write my wonderful poems and stories?” Iasked Her angrily.

I received no answer!

“Give us our dailybread,” Her Son had taught us to pray, long, long ago.

Today, when I write this– my daily blog – I can sense the power of that simple petition to OurFather-in-Heaven. And, I can feel in my soul Her Grace…

She has been calling me,for years, so that I could write about it, today!

GERALD D’CUNHA

THANKS: