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REMEMBERING NANA AND SHRIPAD

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  A fter nine years, I am reposting this Blog, today. I fondly remembered it yesterday. I am sure, the story will make your hearts smile… GURU, EK BAAT PUCHNA THA AAPSE... October 16, 2017 “Guru, kaise ho?” It is Shripad, checking about my well-being? “Mein teek hun chela… Tum kaise ho?” “Ek baat puchna tha, Guru…” “Puchlo chela…” This is how our typical conversation goes… S hripad Ragunathan came in my life the way Raghav (Nana Patekar) came in the life of Jay (John Abraham) in the heart-warming movie ---- ‘Taxi No 9211’! It was 2006, the start of academic year. Shripad was about to start his T.Y. B.Com. One morning, his mother called me up and said, “Sir, I want my son, Shripad, to join your class. Can my husband and I come and talk to you?” The next morning, Shripad’s parents came to meet me. I learnt, that Shripad was their only child and was a ‘differently-abled special-child.’… that, he was excellent in his self-confidence and speech, but had difficult...
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LEARNING, UNLEARNING AND RELEARNING

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  “The illiterate of the future are not those who can’t read or write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.” Alvin Toffler   O ne of my favourite songs is from the movie –- ‘The Greatest Showman’. The movie is a beautiful musical, in which each song is mesmerising, inspiring. But, the song I remember today, in the context of today’s blog, is –- ‘A million Dreams’. Here are a few lines… 'Cause every night I lie in bed The brightest colors fill my head A million dreams are keeping me awake’ Well, I remember this song, today, because, my head, too, is filled with a hundred little stories, even though they aren’t made of the brightest colours. Nevertheless, as the lyrics go, I, too, can sing: “They keep me awake.” In these ten days, when I did not share a single post, I could relate to the song… There were a hundred stories I wanted to share; but, strangely, I decided not to… “Gerry, are you there?” one of my ardent cheerleaders asked. “Yes, I a...
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BAPPA, PLEASE DON'T GO

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  “In prayer, it is better to have a heart without words, than words without a heart. ” ― John Bunyan   Y esterday was the last day of Ganeshotsav , the day of final visarjan . I had taken a day off and decided to rest -- do nothing of my routine things… no teaching, no writing, no cribbing… It may surprise you to see ‘cribbing’ in the list of my ‘routine things’… Yes Sir, even though I know gratitude is the best medicine for cribbing and complaining, I haven’t fully done with my deeply-rooted tendency to crib… Perhaps, I am not alone in this. And, perhaps, that’s why Bappa keeps returning to this manavlok, every year. This time, He even stayed for a day more, so that He would provide an extra day for a person like me to crib a little less, if not stop it completely… B appa’s blessings had reached our household, decades ago… More than fifty years ago, a family in our immediate neighbourhood was from GSB community. In our hometown (Mangalore) the GSB community...
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NEVERMORE TO ROAM... LORD, I AM COMING HOME

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  “I’ve wandered far away from God, Now I’m coming home; The paths of sin too long I’ve trod, Lord, I’m coming home.” (From the hymn ‘Lord, I am Coming Home’)   T wo days ago, Mrs. Vaz (We fondly called her Vaz aunty) passed away at 88. Vaz family was very close to my in-laws’ family when, years ago, they lived in the same building and the same entrance of one of the buildings in Anushakti Nagar (BARC Colony). Then, they shifted to their own house in a nearby private colony, where, I, too, as a bachelor, moved to live along with my younger brother, Harry. I got married and, my wife came to live in this house. For seven years, we were destined to be the neighbours of Vaz family, and I was destined to teach their only son, Joywin, soon after. Eventually, my wife and I moved to different places; but, we continued to stay in touch with Vaz family… Let me correct myself, here: My father-in-law considered Vaz aunty as his sister. Till he died, five years ago, he and Vaz a...
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GROOMING FOR THE DECEMBER INTERVIEW

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  “If you want to leave your footprints on the sands of time, do not drag your feet.” Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam   T hree of my favourite people – who I, always, admired -- and even idolised –- come before me, today. And, all three of them are no more now. Let me talk a bit about each one of them… R . K. Laxman, kept us all enthralled and inspired for long decades as a gifted cartoonist. Like millions of people in this country, I, too, would eagerly look forward to each morning to see his everyday political satire, and, yes, his famous ‘Common man’ saying so much without uttering a single word… What a genius R. K. Laxman was! The legend has it, that the famed ‘J. J. School of Art’ of Bombay rejected him as a student, saying, that he lacked talent. In other words, according to the selection panel, he wasn’t worthy to be a student of this ‘coveted’ institution. Ironically, today, you walk into this very college campus to witness a statue of this ‘rejected’ student’s fine...
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DIALOGUE IN THE DARK

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  “When we give cheerfully and accept gratefully, everyone is blessed.” ―  Maya Angelou   O ne of my childhood memories, which, often, flash before me -– particularly when I try to navigate through the darkness, both, physical and metaphorical –- is that of uncle Gilbert, who lived in our neighbourhood in Mangalore. It was the mid-sixties; I must’ve been a kid of age 7 or 8. There was no electricity in our houses… The kaccha lane, that led to our parish church, was pitch dark in the nights… The lane was untarred, rough and uneven. Uncle Gilbert, who was in his late thirties or early forties, lived halfway through this lane. He was fully blind. Yet, he would never miss a single mass or church prayer service, be it during the day, or be it during the night. With the help of his stick, he managed to go to church, and come back on his own, every single day. Many times, some of us, including little kids, would offer our hands and walk with him. He would keep us engaged...
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BOOKS ARE A UNIQUELY PORTABLE MAGIC

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  “A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.” ―  George R.R. Martin,  A Game of Thrones   S ome days ago, when I was about to retire for the day, I happened to see a message from a stranger. He wrote: “Mr. Gerald, last week, I had been to my friend’s house (Nitin Arora), where I found your new blog book and got immediately attracted towards it. Seeing my face, Nitin immediately handed the book to me saying, ‘You know my allergy for the books… Take it, you will love it.’… Thus, I am the proud owner of your book… Let me tell you, I haven’t put it down!” Well, I was hugely   flattered, and got a sound sleep that night! Nitin was one of my dear ex-students. He is well-placed in life. A few months ago, when I had approached him for the subscription of these ten-book series, he gladly did. But, he said the same thing to me, “Gerry Sir, you know my allergy for the books. So, this subscription is not for your books, but for...
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THE WILD, WAYSIDE FLOWERS
There is, always, something extra-ordinary in the wild, wayside flowers...