Gerald D'Cunha

  “You cannot have a positive life and a negative mind.” Joyce Meyer   T his is mid-August; and in Maharashtra, the students, who have cleared their tenth and wanting to join eleventh (State Board), are yet to go to their respective junior colleges. Some have just started going; but, they are unsure about the allocation of some subjects like Maths. On the other side, students from other Boards, such as CBSE, ISC, IGCSE etc., have completed almost 50 to 75 % of their portion in their colleges and private institutes. So, the State Board students, unless they have enrolled with some private tutors like me, are at the mercy of God – Ram Bharose! Here, I, too, have completed a significant portion of my eleventh-standard students belonging to the State Board. But, then, students are still joining; and I have to, patiently, go back to the Accountancy nursery… to teach them Debit and Credit, all over again.… Yesterday morning, I received a call from a young man. He said, tha...

  Only by examining our personal biases can we grow as artists; Only by cultivating empathy can we grow as people.” Jen Knox   W e all have compassion in our hearts. When I put myself in other people’s shoes - feel and understand their pain – yes, this kind of compassionate feeling is known as ‘empathy’. But, the kind of empathy, which most of us display in our lives is only selective. If you are not on my side of the divide, then, your pain doesn’t ache me… My heart doesn’t care. Why? Because, you are not on my side. So, I don’t cry for justice for you… I don’t think, you have been harmed… and, worse, I even find a sadistic pleasure seeing you suffer. On the other hand, if you are on my side of the divide, even the mildest pain to you can cause a turmoil in me; I am ready to pick up the flag… for you … against those who have harmed you… This is the kind of empathy that is rampant today… It’s ‘Selective Empathy’, not ‘Universal Empathy’! Let’s be honest on these ...

  “Dhobi ka kutta na ghar ka, na ghaat ka.” Old proverb W hen my dad, his brothers and sisters wanted to migrate to a big city for a ‘better life’, their obvious choice was Bombay. Back in the village, life was confined to the little paddy fields, one-or-two cows, dogs, cats, chicken… for some, a couple of buffalos… Schooling was mostly limited to primary or higher primary. Rarely someone managed to complete high school (up to 11 th grade in those days.). So, invariably, one of my uncles or aunts, who first migrated to Bombay – and lived in some crowded chawls or bastie s – began to take others to the city, one by one… till all siblings – nine of them - were uprooted from the village. My dad, somehow, made it back to the village before he got married to my mom. There on, he made our village as his permanent dwelling and working place. For those uncles and aunts, who had chosen to stay back in this big city, slowly and steadily, the progress in Bombay meant upgrading their...

“Hate is not the opposite of love; apathy is.” Rollo May A couple of days ago, when I had blogged on the plight of migrant workers – particularly those who were mowed down on the railway tracks in Aurangabad, a dear friend of mine had said this in her comment: “In case we can be of help together in any way, let me know… Lockdown will continue for quite some time… I am sure, we can contribute somewhere, somehow. Helplessness, perhaps, is one of the worst feelings ever… And this news made me feel so helpless!” Ever since the lockdown was announced, I haven’t stepped out of the door… Should I dramatize through our PM’s analogy – 'I haven’t crossed the Laxman Rekha’! Why is that? Well, I may try to get some sympathy, citing my recent brush with Cancer and kidney issues. But, the truth is this: I am privileged to be inside my house for all this lockdown period… I have my wife and young son to ensure, that I, along with my aged and aili...

“Cloudy skies are rolling in And not a friend around to help me From all the places I have been And I feel like going home” -        From the song ‘Lord, I Feel Like Going Home’ Lyrics by Charlie Rich I am very, very fond of Mark Knopfler’s and Tom Jones’s music. I can plug my ears and get lost in their music and songs for eternity… And, during these difficult times, that’s been one of the things I have been doing quite repeatedly. For last one week or so, I wanted to share in my blog an amazing stage performance together – a very rare and special - by these two legends. Somehow, I kept delaying it, even though I kept playing it many times during this week. Finally, today, I am unable to hold it back, any more… So, here it is… ‘Lord, I Feel Like Going Home’! E ver since I learnt about the tragedy on the railway tracks in Aurangabad, I have been wanting to write something on it, but have not been. Sadness...

“Because of indifference, one dies before one actually dies.” Elie Wiesel M y last post was about why it is important for us – in times like this – to focus positively on things within our control. Aptly, I called it ‘on what is inside our doors’. What happens in the outside world – outside our doors – is beyond our control. Yes, we are concerned about them… Like when we see the heart-wrenching images of mass exodus of poor people… walking hundreds of miles toward their villages, holding their little babies and bags, in this scorching heat with no food, water or shelter… no money… no hope. Watching these images makes us numb… even guilty and ashamed when we eat our food and switch on our fans and air-conditioners… Some of us are unable to sleep and even feel uncomfortable when we close our bathroom doors! Are these not the same people, who till the other day, made our ‘Wheel’ roll? And, suddenly, the fear has taken them over, and the...

About ten minutes before my morning lecture, today, Ritesh* sent me this sms: “Gd mng sir. I just left home; will be late for class by 5 min. Hope, you don’t mind, sir. Thanks.” I replied, immediately, “No problem, Ritesh. Come.” Meanwhile, I got another sms… This one was from Heena*: “Can’t come for class at 4 today. When to come tmro?” I did not reply to her for two hours. Then, I sent this one: “At 4 tmro.” Actually, Heena’s message was in this shape: “Can’t cum 4clss at4 2dy wen2 cum 2mro???” That’s okay… I would have still replied her, immediately. But, what made me a bit ‘sick’ was the plain apathy… the indifference… the insensitivity… the lack of respect, if I should put it in an old-fashioned way.  “Sir, I can’t cum 4clss at4 tdy. Can u pl tell me wen can i come 2mro?”… Or, “Sir I am sorry, I am not able to attend the class today at 4. Can I attend anytime tmor at ur convenience, sir. Appreciate, if...

Every one started running out. In less than two minutes, the narrow lane leading to that spot was flooded with hordes of people - men, women and children. The shop-keepers left their cash boxes open and ran out, the house-wives left their doors open and rushed there, the barbers left their half-shaven customers on the chairs, the school-going children stopped there, the maid servants made their own group, a lame man, on his crutches, barely managed to park himself, there. The crowd was still swelling ... and, every one was looking high up in in the air ... to 'him' who hung there precariously - from the leaves of that tall palm tree. It seems, some kind and alert soul had called up the Fire men, and the Fire tender had just come. The frantic sounds of the bell and the siren had pressed the panic button - or is it the familiar curiosity button? - in all and sundry. Yes, the shop-keepers, house-wives, barbers, maid servants, school children and the crippled. Every one wanted to k...