Gerald D'Cunha

“H ow do you do it?” I hear someone or the other asking this question everywhere, every time… I hear me asking this constantly… “How do you do it?” Means, I am awe-struck… I am wonder-struck. You are too good at it, too brilliant… too amazing. And, above all, you leave me inspired! I find myself asking this question endlessly… when I watch little kids, young ones or ladies sing, dance or act on stage during the ongoing Ganeshotsav… when someone hosts the programme with charm… when I watch a young one and even a little one so good at handling the computer or smart-phone… when I see someone so good at keeping the house or workplace so tidy and clutter-less… when someone like my 80-plus mom remember birthdays and anniversaries of all her sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren … when I see someone like my friend, Austin, coming out with lovely caricatures each morning… when someone can do the same with a story, poem, essay, or a video… when someone like m...

Pic.: Chetna Shetty T oday, one of my eleventh-standard students – 16 or 17 year old – came to meet me with a thank-you card. She had written a couple of lines expressing her gratitude; I was touched. And, in the end, she had written – what I see everywhere these days – “God Bless You”! I smiled! In fact, I smile every day, when I see this expression – “God Bless You” – used repeatedly by everyone and everywhere… In cards, books and messages “God Bless You”… yes, this has become as common – rather as casual – as a ‘Thank-you’, a “Sorry” and an “Excuse me”! I smile because… When we were small, our parents and teachers taught us to ‘seek’ blessings from our elders - parents and grandparents, uncles and aunts, teachers, priests, nuns or any elders… We were taught to do it respectfully with our folded hands (just as my Hindu or Sikh brothers and sisters were taught to bend down to touch feet respectfully). We were taught to say ‘Bless me" (followed b...

The clouds do not seek my permission Before they burst into rain, Nor do the Stars before they go into hiding… A full Moon or a crescent Moon… or a Moonless night, None of these need my consent. When the Eagle goes to sleep, He doesn’t come to me to kiss Good-bye… Nor does the Sun wait for my Good-morning. Rivers flow where the Sea is… And, not where I want them to be… The whales are happy in the deep seas Even though I am scared of the depth of the seas… The snow-fall might sound very romantic for a beholder like me, But, it does sent shivers through the hearts Of those whose life it cripples… You know, even a million people can’t empty an ocean; Why, they can’t even silence the meekest of the thunders! I am dispensable… There are rules to obey, Limits to abide by… There are Gods to fear… Demons to stay off! All of a sudden, the sky has turned dark; The clouds are r...

I t is only from such distance, The Sun looks so glorious… I need this distance to admire the Sun! It is only from such distance, I realize what a supreme gift Life is… I need this distance to appreciate this endowment. It is only from such distance, My dear ones seem so sweet… I need this distance to experience this sweetness. GERALD D'CUNHA

S ome months ago, I had been to some one’s house. The 60-plus man, in my heart, was a gem of a person.That night, he had died of a massive heart attack. When we reached there, it was just the time… He was about to be taken away from the house… and, for ever. I saw the man’s wife, now a fresh widow, collapsed on the lifeless husband… and sobbing with a sorrow, which, by now, had lost all its tears… I could imagine how much she must have sobbed all nightlong… and the day that followed! With the lady, I too sobbed like a baby… The man was a good soul! Then, we heard, all of a sudden, someone crying hysterically… “Papa, I am sorry; please papa, I am sorry… Papa… Papa…” Some ladies were holding the daughter of the deceased soul… and it was the last glimpse she would have of her papa. She too looked all pale and dry… like her mother’s, the sorrow was just bereft of wetness… there was only a lingering pain, regret and, now, a killing guilt. While we were returning home, a lady told us th...

"Payre pado beta," the mother reminded her teenager son, as I entered their palatial house. The son, my student, bent forward to touch my feet. A tall and handsome young man he was; but, his hand barely reached my knee. "It's alright." Before I could complete my sentence, he was already standing, all erect! I hardly felt his 'Payre pado'! But, the mother did, immensely! Bunty never, ever starts his car unless he does a small religious gesture before. His both hands touch the steering and his heart, automatically. Ditto before he enters his restaurant. His both hands go down to the floor and quickly to his forehead and heart. Never, ever would he talk to any one - even a waiting Income tax Officer - unless he climbs up his chair, lights an agarbatti, says five-minutes silent prayer with closed eyes and folded hands, then again touching with his both hands God's feet , his forehead and his heart. But, as soon as he climbs down, the first thing he does ...