Random reflections

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you

upon the wind, Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, And dance

upon the mountains like a flame.

William Butler - Yeats The Land of Heart's Desire.

Its always wonderful to watch the people around you especially in a big city like Dubai. You can see all sorts of people from all corners of the world ,not something you can expect to see in your hometown, especially from a coountry  where I hail from like India. In Kerala, when you walk around the street with earphones plugged, everyone will notice you. But in a big city like this they don’t care even if it is i-pad that you have in your hand.

Last time in Dubai, we were in the Mall of Emirates, one of the proud achievements of the city .It was wonderful being there ,but what I loved the most was the people moving around me…the Americans, Africans, Europeans and once inside this building you will forget that you are in a desert land…far away from the home of majority of the citizens living there.

In the mall of emirates ,its not the luxury shops like BVLGARY or Louis Vuitton that attracts you ,its the crowd mixing around you. .so many people all in their own world, yet stranger to everyone around them .Another aspect I like about Dubai ,they treat everyone equally ,even if you don’t carry designer bags on your shoulders or wear designer foot wears ,you are equally welcomed in any luxury boutique, but of course, when they see the size of your pocket their respect increases, which is, I guess a ‘natural phenomenon’ in any part of the world.

One thing is quite certain even if you don’t buy anything. You walk and walk and walk through endless passages and get stuck right in the middle not knowing how you ended up in that particular place .But luckily for us ,we had already planned that we all will walk together ,sticking to each other so there is no chance of missing anyone in the group.

We happened to see the Ski Dubai, the first indoor ski resort in the Middle East which offers an amazing snow setting to enjoy skiing, snowboarding and tobogganing, or just to play in the snow. Whether being young or old one can enjoy the unique mountain-themed attraction that you see in snow countries. Though it is an artificial world, it was so successful in attracting the people that it is now one of the busiest area in the mall. They play all sorts of game, make snowman or throw snowballs at each other and have all the fun that you have in winter season. I guess the people from the cold countries will feel more like home when they enjoy it there. It was beautiful ,especially about the winter jackets and shoes that make you wear…,and with -4 degree Celsius around you, you will definitely forget that it is happening in a desert land. This is what we call modern advancements, both in lifestyle as well as technology.

It would no doubt be a shame if I don’t mention the marvels of architecture in the building. It is the second largest shopping mall in the Middle East(after Dubai Mall, world’s largest mall),and have one of the largest indoor ski area. The Dancing water in the front entrance is another beautiful sight one must not miss.

We went to the mall by the metro train, the Red Line they call it. It was about 6 in the evening when we started the journey. We could see the whole city being covered in the darkness with lights seen here and there ready to welcome the rest of the night .It was a beautiful sight because you get an aerial view of the city from the train.

Speaking of heights, I remember the time when above 3000m from the ground ,in the aeroplane, one wonders how the cloud will feel like when we just pass our hands through them .Looking down, I get all sorts of scary ideas like childish nightmares when we imagine what happens when the plane just breaks in the middle and you go down. I would imagine that there would be an unending ocean beneath me with lots of giant whales and frightening sharks swimming around , ready to gobble you down once you hit the water. Then nobody knows you are there, no rescuer knows you are in the belly of that fish. I wonder if at all I were to swim, in which direction will I swim? Because you dont carry a compass in your packet every time and never at the time of boarding the plane. Then I will remember my tiny heroes from”Finding Nemo”,the little cute Nemo and his friends. Or may be there is the little mermaid and she will take me deep down to her world and treat me as her guest for the rest of my life. I will be so glad if I were to live in a world like that, far away from the grim realities happening around you. Then I could live there forever ,swim around with friends and play with them all the time. A fiction that is never going to happen.

Growing up reading Grimm Brothers fairy tales, I love those stories and used to dream about that wonderful world. Like many millions, I too enjoyed a lot when these stories were made moving pictures. What would it be like living in the castles and roaming around the beautiful gardens with guards on all nook and corner to protect you? How good would it be living in stone huts and yellow farms everywhere, with just bread and butter to end your day? As a kid we wish if all our favourite cartoon characters come alive, it would be so nice to play with them. Tom Thumb and Thumbelina, I will make them beautiful beds to sleep on, and the cute Mini and Mickey, to be part of their lovely stories, and the darling Donald Duck and the naughty Goofy ,and yes, of course I saw them all too, in the Dubai Mall of Emirates, to entertain the new generation kids, and the kids enjoy them well.  

By the Niece

Life and Death

As soon as one is born, one starts dying.

Luigi Pirandello, Henry IV

Life is a creation of God which has always baffled me. Should I call it a creation, or what else should I term it, I don’t know. One can clearly differentiate between  a live and dead person. But what exactly is life. Is breathing the sign of life, as one can stop breathing for minutes and still stay alive. Is it the beating of heart, as one can stop the ailing heart for hours during open heart surgeries?. Is it a functioning brain as we see a number of brain dead people living in vegetative state for months? .Where exactly is life in our body?. Philosophers would call the heart to be the abode of life. while scientists would like the brain to be the core of life. When does an embryo get life? I took my wife for antenatal viability ultrasonography scan , where I saw a beating heart in an embryo just more than 2 inches  in size. The first sign of life ! but what about the cells which united to form the embryo at the first place. They travelled long distances and crossed many hurdles for the great rendezvous. They too were live and energetic.

 

If life is so miraculous and mystic, so is death. As a doctor this is the most difficult question I have faced. When to call a person dead? When I am called up towards a dead or dying person, my heart aches and my mind termbles. It is called declaring a death. It means the person is already dead and everyone knows it. You just have to confirm and proclaim it. It is a very tough situation. When you go there, you would find a very monotonous air. Some of the relatives would be standing by the side of the bed waiting for my arrival. Their faces resemble the dam waiting to open its shutters. They would be staring at your face like some Amazonian animal. Watching carefully your every movement like the animal of prey. Scrutinizing the pulse you palpated and the heart beat you checked. Each time they would look at your face for a hint about the situation. Still not ready to open the gates of tears. Some of the relatives might have already started to arrange for the ceremonies informing other relatives, arranging the chairs for visitors and starting to chant verses from the holy books. I often ponder what my role there is. Just to say the word and break the silence. I find this job tougher than that of Yamraj or Azrael or Hades ( angels of death) for they have to just follow orders. May be they too would be there waiting for my death sentence. The moment the proclamation is made , there erupts starts a violent cry from all sides. You feel as if you have condemned the patient to death sentence.

The most beautiful description of death I have read is from a short story “ The kite maker” by Ruskin Bond.” The voices in the street grew fainter, and Mehmood wondered if he was going to fall asleep and dream, as he so often did, of a kite so beautiful and powerful that it would resemble the great white bird of the Hindus—Garuda, God Vishnu's famous steed. He would like to make a wonderful new kite for little Ali. He had nothing else to leave the boy.

He heard Ali's voice in the distance, but did not realize that the boy was calling him. The voice seemed to come from very far away.

Ali was at the courtyard door, asking if his mother had as yet returned from the bazaar. When Mehmood did not answer, the boy came forward repeating his question. The sunlight was slanting across the old man's head, and a small white butterfly rested on his flowing beard. Mehmood was silent; and when Ali put his small brown hand on the old man's shoulder, he met with no response. The boy heard a faint sound, like the rubbing of marbles in his pocket.

Suddenly afraid, Ali turned and moved to the door, and then ran down the street shouting for his mother. The butterfly left the old man's beard and flew to the mimosa tree, and a sudden gust of wind caught the torn kite and lifted it in the air, carrying it far above the struggling city into the blind blue sky”.

Declaring a dead in a hospital is much easier , but dramatic. Most often the relatives might have been briefed regarding the grave prognosis of the patient and their mind would be well set to receive the news. But here we are obliged to perform some rituals as I would call it. Unless the patients general condition is good and the death state occurred due to some acute reversible cause ,the resuscitation efforts are usually futile. The cardio pulmonary resuscitation which the patient receive would often put a morbid patient from a state of dead to a no man’s land where he is neither dead nor alive. The violent compressions on the patients chest often breaking the rib bones stimulating his weak heart to beat and the endotracheal tube inserted into the patient’s throat providing artificial ventilation would temporarily put the patient into a period of uncertainty, but the patient would eventually succumb to the inevitable. I remember a joke I read in a journal. The guardian to the gates of the heaven once heard a knock at the gate. He eagerly opened the door but saw no one there. We he returned he again heard the knock. He again opened and to his dismay no one was there. This routine repeated 4 to 5 times and at last he found a happy person when he opened the gates. With a bit of anger the guardian asked the person,” were you playing silly pranks with me”. The person replied,” I had a heart attack few minutes ago, that is when I knocked the door the first time , but the poor doctor was resuscitating me”. A flat electrocardiograph (ECG) would often confirm the death. There is no wails or howls, just a silent mourning as everything is as expected and explained.

Life is considered pleasant and cheerful and death is often gloomy and mournful. Someone has rightly said that when you are born you cry and when you die others cry. Life and death being antagonists, it is quite true to say that every moment of life is a step towards death.

- the eldest son

"Literature is the cemetry of communication" Terry Eagleton

How often do we search in vain for a word to translate a thought

properly into words? Sometimes however eloquent we may be we

can never express what is in our hearts. When such emotions

are expressed spontaneously a writer, I believe, is born

and through him literature as well . When a writer looks at a flower

what he sees is not the petals, sepals, stamen or the stigma but

its softness, its fragrance ,its lustre that glistens in the

sunlight. It transports him to another world where the factual

features of the flower gets fused with his imaginative and creative

capabilities. His mind becomes pregnant with thoughts and

emotions. In a moment of tranquillity they overflow

spontaneously. Words come naturally to him just like leaves

that sprout on the branches. Thus literature becomes a living

monument that transcends facts and reality.

Literature is fiction but it gives us a deep understanding of

the reality. It is difficult to define happiness scientifically and

there exists no technique to detect or measure happiness. In factual

description it always remains elusive. But a writer uses his magic wand to

instil, evoke and make us experience happiness. Literature

may bury meaning but it enlivens and enriches our experience. it

widens and empowers our visions, thoughts, feelings and

imagination. It colours our dreams and paints pictures in our

hearts. It awakens our sleeping mind and performs the miracle of

converting deserts into oasis and orchards within moments.

Man is not a product of logic alone but a creature of emotion

and so literature goes directly to his heart. It remains there

giving us a variety of feelings. Hearts may agree with what the head

disapproves . That is why someone said "sometimes when a writer, tells us

about hell, his presentation makes us look forward to a trip to hell"

 

By the daughter

At the end of the day, we are just mortals

“ I am dancing, spinning around, happy in the last rhythms of the life I love. When the music stops, when I can’t tie my bow tie, tell a funny story , walk my dog, talk with Whitney(my daughter), kiss some one special or tap out lines like this , I ‘ill know that Life is over . It’s to be gone”.

This how Mr. Dudley Clendinen concludes his soul-stirring article in the International Herald Tribune dated 12th July, 2011. Former national correspondent and editorial writer for The New York Times and author of “ A place called Canterbury”, he is dying of the degenerative disease, Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis or A.L.S known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. Even if he uses all the available medical technology , it will leave him in a few years “ a conscious but motionless ,mute, withered, incontinent mummy of his former self, maintained by feeding and waste tubes, breathing and suctioning machines” In lieu of that and having been treated for the last 22 years , he has now decided to welcome death as one of life’s “ greatest, most absorbing thrills and challenges”.

Despite the advances in medical research deadly diseases like cancer, stroke or Alzheimer’s disease continue of claim thousands of lives .I personally knew a multi-millionaire in our village who died of cancer more than a decade ago. When I visited him during the last days of his  life when his doctors  had told him that his days were numbered, he was chatting with his friends and relatives in his living room as and no sign of sorrow was seen on his face whereas the people around him looked very gloomy.

Mr. Clendinen describes how he has adapted himself to the disease:

“ I sometimes call it Lou, in his honour and because the familiar feels less threatening. But it is not a kind disease. The nerves and muscles pulse and twitch and progressively , they die. From outside , it looks like the ripple of piano keys in the muscles under my skin. From inside it is like anxious butterflies trying to get out. It starts in the hands and feet and works its way up and in or it begins in the muscles of the mouth and throat and chest and abdomen and works its way down and out …. We don’t live as long because it affects our ability to breath early on, and just gets worse”

His mastery of English language, wisdom, and philosophical outlook are explicit throughout his article, that too when he is suffering ..

He adds: “I am having a wonderful time. I have a bright beautiful talented daughter , who lives close by, the gift of my life …..I don’t know if she approves ( my decision) .But she understands . Leaving her is one thing I hate. But all I can do is to give her a daddy who was vital to the end and knew when to leave”

Keralites know how the celebrated Malayalm film artist Oduvil Unnikrishnan, in spite of being afflicted with renal failure or so, continued to act until his death. People  saw in the last couple of movies he had appeared how the disease had transformed his physical features and how difficult it was for him even to speak.

When one watches a moving movie, reads a splendid essay, meets a humble person, deals with an honest character, or sees a human being or animal suffering, he will feel like sharing these experiences with some one dear or near to him . Only then can he feel relaxed and heave a sigh of satisfaction and relief

By the father

A rainy day

RAIN , RAIN GO AWAY

COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY

LITTLE JOHNNY WANTS TO PLAY

When it rains, these nursery rhymes written in 17th century or earlier are apt to echo in one’s mind. These simple and straight forward words represent ancient version children’s chit-chat with rain and an old pattern of their interaction with the nature. It has been raining in London these days . When you realize Londoners’ love and care for nature and how a large number trees of grows in the heart of the city even on road sides undaunted by loggers, you do not wonder why it rains here even at the height of summer season But my friend ,Isam, an Iraqi refugee living here for the last 30 years, says that God loves Britons and ipso facto they are never subjected to extreme temperature witnessed in other parts of the world.

Since I have arrived from a region notorious for scorching heat of the sun and the temperature there soars even up-to 50 degree Celsius, rain drops have a special flavour for people like me.Every one knows that in Gulf countries rain is a very rare natural phenomenon and even if it rain it lasts for a few minutes and causes road blocks and traffic accidents since the soil is not ready to absorb water. Some times it does not rain at all during the whole year and prayers are conducted in the mosques imploring God to shower His blessings on them.

Men of letters have said that rain is an incentive for creativity and for them rain is love, mercy and even death . Stories and poems have been written about rain and films have been named after this natural phenomenon.

Rain rolls me back 50 years when I used to go to sea coast accompanying my relatives during the monsoon season to “see the sea” and watch its hill like waves thrashing, splashing and roaring like lion . Children were warned not to approach the waves lest it should carry them away just as as it sometimes swallows  even the huts of poor fishermen living on the seashore. I recall how we stood on the sand close to the sea and watched with curiosity  the waves wiping out every thing on the sand including the words we wrote on the sand criticising Kadalamma or Mother sea though we were advised not to do so and incur her wrath.

What I missed in those rainy days was the scarcity of my favourite food item fish since fishermen were unable to take their boats to the turbulent sea amid breaking waves. My parents knew what fish meant to me and my late mom had once told me how her mother in law( my paternal  grandma) after appeciating  my abnormal appetite for fish, had advised her that the only solution to satiate my unusual fish eating desire was to let my sister, who was then about 5 years old, be married to a fisherman. It was a coincidence that she was later in fact married to a person engaged in fish business. I remember that when I visited their house together with one of my relatives for the first time before finalising the matrimonial alliance, we were served with rice and fish curry albeit it was too early to have dinner at that time and it was not the usual  practice to serve our guests with such a dish.

Rain reminds me of my paternal grandma whose face is still in mind though she had  passed away  50 years ago when I was around 12 . I was told that she loved me very much though I was not too young to appreciate her love but I can remember a number of incidents  to testify to her selfless love for me. Now recall that fateful night when my mom,some other relatives and neighbours gathered in her room in our old house. When I was advised by my mom not to enter the room , I could smell that something was wrong and my body began shiver. When I woke up next morning she was no more. As I could not bear her dead body being taken to the grave yard, I ran to her brother’s house from where I watched the funeral procession passing by that way.

Nearly a decade ago, my daughter showed me the photo of the grandparents of one of her class mates in her album ..Their innocent faces shining out of love are still in mental screen. “ Ask them what loves means” , this was the comment my  daughter  wrote the under the photo. Those who could live in the shade of grandparents' love are indeed blessed ones,

By the father

In search of his father

“ I call myself an only child, but I could very well be one of many siblings. I could be predisposed to some potentially devastating disease. Because I do not know what my father looks like, I could never recognise him in a crowd of people . I am sometimes overwhelmed by the infinite possibilities, by the reality that my father could be any where : in the neighbouring lane of traffic on a Friday during rush hour, behind me in line at the bank or the pharmacy ……. I am sometimes at such a petrifying loss for words or emotions that make sense that I can only feel astonished by the fact he could be any one”. , so wrote Mr. Colton Wooten  in his article in  the International Herald Tribune dated 29th June, 2011  enititled “ A plea to sperm donors from a son” .. He tells us that it was at the age of 5 that his mother divulged to him that he was born through artificial insemination and that he, born in 1992, did not think about that until 2006 when his teacher assigned to his class a genealogy project for which the students were supposed to research family history and create a family tree to share with the class. He describes how he had to cope with different situations when questioned about his father and ends his write-up saying

Colton Wooten does not find fault his mom when she, closing on her 40s, found herself unmarried and childless and opted to have a child through artificial insemination. She had arranged a consultation at the University of North Carolina Fertility Centre in early 1992. During the visits that followed, she examined the profiles of the sperm bank's donors , compared favourable traits and credentials and picked up one. He adds that he had visited the same centre hoping to find out at least the name of his father but was told that no files were saved for anonymous fathers for anonymous donors and no information could be given to him. He adds he understands the reasons behind keeping sperm donation anonymous “And yet the void that many children and young adults born from artificial insemination experience from simply not knowing transcends reason”. What he argues is that such babies should have the right to know who their donors are.

Reacting to Colton Wooten’s article, Ms Leah Leeder from Israel wrote how she, who is a single mother by choice of a beautiful two year old daughter, was moved by his article which reminded her that she should prepare herself for the day when her daughter starts asking her questions about her so called biological father.

One is in fact bewildered while coming to know that the artificial insemination widely used in the past for animal reproduction is now being applied in the case of human beings as well .It is true that the giant leap in the filed of science and technology has afforded us with numerous comforts and facilities and made our lives easier than ever. One, however, very often wonders whether Science alone can give us happiness and peace of mind. Here comes the role of ethics which act as a safety valve in our lives. It has to be admitted that there are several questions science fails to  answer.

**********

" Tears are the silent language of grief " - Voltaire

“Oh, the poetic mind that  compared the tear drop to a women,
My kudos to you, kudos to you, kudos to you … “

These are lyrics from a famous Malayalam movie. Crying has always been the duty and the prerogative of women . The burst into   tears the moment they are touched  by  both sorrow or happiness. The never ending TV shows and Reality shows just thrive on the tears of our female population. Crocodiles and women are  known to use tears as a weapon to survive. It is still a controversy whether the crocodile tears are to lure their victims, or that they cry for the preys they are eating, or whether the crocodiles really have a lachrymal gland or not. Whatever be the issue, crocodile tears have historically been compared to false feeling. However, Women shedding tears to escape a difficult situation is well known.

“O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!”

Shakespeare in Othello Act IV, scene 1


But have you ever seen a grown up man crying. It may be as rare as an eclipse but the most heart breaking and unappreciated event. How many times have we seen the media projecting a weeping man? It may be not be as heart breaking as a women’s tears, but when you try to understand that unlike women, men cry only when he is unable to control his grief we should appreciate his tears.

We had a 18 year old girl admitted in serious condition in our ward. She had some disease in her nasopharynx which was slowly killing her. She was accompanied by her mother and maternal uncle as her father had abandoned her. Her uncle was a healthy six foot Sardarji in his mid forties. His face never showed any signs of sorrow. He was always ready to get any investigation for her niece. She had been referred from many hospitals and by the time she came to us she had lost her consciousness. We had either a malignancy or an invasive fungal infection in our mind. But her radiology and biopsy were not giving any conclusive diagnosis. The disease had already taken her sight and now pushed her both eyeballs outside. The sight was horrible to watch even for the hardest heart .But day by day her condition worsened and we had nothing to offer her. We usually counsel the escorts of such patients to take them home and wait for the inevitable. This would at least decrease their financial burden and let the patient spend the rest of his or her life peacefully with relatives. As a prime institute, we are not allowed to dispose of any patient without giving them treatment, so these patients are classified as Discharged against medical advice or DAMA. They are not given any discharge booklet instead given a paper where details of the disease and treatment are written. While I was writing the DAMA certificate her uncle came to me and said to write the situation of the girl clearly. I got a bit annoyed partly because of the guilt that we could do nothing for the patient and partly because he was interrupting me. I told him that this paper would not help her in any way as she has already been rejected from most of the centres before coming here. Suddenly the uncle burst into tears telling me that that it was not for her further treatment, but just to show to the police official during their way home. He was afraid that seeing the pathetic state of the patients, they might suspect some foul play and stop them. I had no words to console him, but to hand over him the DAMA letter at the earliest.

A young man was admitted in our emergency following road traffic accident. He had lost vision of one eye due to a fracture which was pressing on to his optic nerve. Usually such injuries had poor prognosis as patients reached the centre much after the critical time in which surgery was possible. All we could do was to get the necessary radiological investigations and discharge the patient on steroids and wait of the vision to improve. We usually try to discharge patients from casualty as early as possible in order to reduce the load in causality. But getting a patient worked up in emergency is tricky. It requires great persuasion and effort from the part of the doctor and patient bystander to get them quickly. Usually what we do is to frighten the bystander by exaggerating the disease so that they show interest in getting the tests done. I had advised computed tomography for the patient in the morning and by evening I came to see the patient and they had not got the investigation done. I furiously told the father of the patient that if you deliberately delay the investigation the patient will lose his sight permanently and don’t blame us for that. I hastily left the casualty. But by the time I reached my duty room the father came behind me crying to save his son’s vision. I felt guilty as I knew that there is very less chance that the investigation would change his treatment and my only intent was to encourage the father of the patient to get the investigation done. I consoled the father and told him that we have already started the necessary treatment and it is the nature of the disease to improve only slowly.

A man in his twenties came to me last week at the outpatient department. He had an ulcer overt his tongue which was diagnosed to be cancer from an outside centre. I often think that seeing so much cancer patients almost daily, I fail to appreciate the gravity of the disease. He had comparatively a smaller ulcer of about 1 cm which was virtually curable with surgery and follow up. So I didn’t feel it a necessary to counsel and comfort the patient regarding the disease. I filled up all his investigation reports and looked at his face to explain to him where to get them done. His eyes were flooding with tears. Then only did I realize that for me even though it was only an early lesion, for the patient he was diagnosed with a disease which for a layman was virtually incurable. I took time in explaining him that he need not worry and to get the investigation done early so that he can be operated at the earliest. He wiped his tears and touched my feet while leaving. But I am sure that it needs more than words to comfort his heart.

Tears, be it of male or female had been given importance from time immemorial. But men are always reluctant to open up naturally or forcibly for the fear to lose their macho. My better half always makes fun of me when she sees my eyes fill at the end of the movie. Recent studies have shown that crying increased life expectancy by acting as a stress relieving act and also a means to excrete toxic metabolites. Dr William Frey, who studied the physiology of tears and author of 'Crying: The Mystery of Tears', says: 'It is no accident that crying has survived evolutionary pressures. Humans are the only animals to evolve this ability to shed tears in response to emotional stress, and it is likely that crying survived the pressures of natural selection because it has some survival value.' So women don’t under estimate the role the operas play in prolonging your life expectancy and men don’t be ashamed to wet your partner’s shoulders when you feel so.

- By the eldest son

Humane Values

The great quality of human beings, to be loved and cared for by the people around him had begun during the creation of the first man itself. It started when Adam(ASW) opened his eyes and was greeted with peace, he returned the greeting to the angels around him even though no one had taught him before. It so happened that he was really well adapted to the New world around him and was able establish relations with the surroundings, with God, the angels ,the Jinni and the delights of the paradise.

When the second human being, Eve, joined him it was another dawn in his life, where they started socializing. As the generations went by, there developed the family system, then the societies ,which evolved into the countries and nations, and was people were divided based on certain discrimination like languages, social practices and so on.

But until the twentieth century everything followed the same pattern except for the teachings of the Prophets of God ,whose words travelled fast and wide across the globe. Then in the electronic revolutions and technological breakthroughs, the world seemed to be shrunk as if from a large watermelon to a tiny grape. Everything seemed to be travelling short and wide, we are now capable of doing anything from one corner of earth and reach another corner within split seconds.

However it is too pathetic when we look that human relations and find that they have lost its previous warmth, selflessness and sincerity and have now adopted a new definition and perspective . It is quite relevant when we say good news travel slowly, while the bad news travel fast like a supersonic jet . The deeds so far considered as sinful both in the eyes of the religion and society are being transformed into a norm, and the rules and regulations are amended to suit the new lifestyles. The influences of all the societies in the world, whether east or west and mostly the negative ones are felt in our society. But now the world scenario has changed, it has become a single society as if under a single thought, where you can buy anything you want if you have money including ‘education’ which is being marketed as an item of the shopping list.

One wonders how people get attached both in psychologically and personally to a person on TV screen without bothering to know his/her background. They seem to experience the pain, the happiness, curiosity and almost all the feelings the hero have on the screen. The manner of how we bind ourselves to a person who is totally unaware of our existences, surroundings and cultural background is incredible. It should be treated as a wonder in the human creation rather than the technological advancement. This sort of attachments can also be felt while reading a book or an article where we feel the presence of the character and also the author himself. It shows how easily and unknowingly our body and soul are affected irrespective of whether how great or weak we are . It is like how Imam Abu Hamid Al Ghazali said, human is like a mixture, a mixture of the trio; devil ,angel and animal(human does what an animal does.eg.;eat and drink).It is according to his will power he prioritises which one to dominate the other two. Hope we all dominate the angelic qualities above the other two.

By the Niece

Morality versus Business

 Gone are the days when the children in our village used to await ice-cream vendors on their bicycles  sounding musical horns to attract them while their mom tried hard to rein them from running to them.. There were sweet vendors as well carrying different varieties of colourful sweets on their heads in bamboo trays calling out " sweet items just for a penny". Mothers called them to their houses and they displayed mouth watering sweets in front of their children who were given the options to select what they wanted but with in the limits of budget they had . The price was paid from the savings made by their moms in the name of their children in small round clay pots called Kayikkudukka which had the size and shape of normal grape fruit had a narrow opening through which coins were put . When the pot was full it was broken and the sound of copper and silver coins falling on the ground tickled the minds of children and aroused hopes in their minds.


Once I heard a neighbour of ours and a friend of my mom confessing to my mom how she had got rid of an invalid coin (not fake one since was the coin of some other country) given to her from some shops saying that she had purchased sweets from a vendor known to us who had taken the coin without checking it. The same vendor passed by our house after a couple of days and I asked my mom to buy me a particular sweet made of cane jaggery. When my mom paid him the price ,the vendor who was looking for a chance to get rid of the invalid coin, took it out from his pocket claiming that it was one of the coins given by mom and asked her to give him another coin. My mom who knew the story did not tell him who the culprit was but smiled and told him to look for the one who had cheated him and not her who had given him the genuine coin.The vendor shouted using obscene language whereas my mom, in spite of being infuriated used polite words. The vendor could not take back the candy since I had consumed half of it in the meantime. I still remember how he went away using all the bad words in his stock. Today when I read reports of innocent people being accused and even convicted on false charges for crimes and offences they had never committed, I remember that sweet vendor.



The man I see these days selling peanuts in cone shaped paper packets in front of some shopping centers in Doha reminded me of my first and last attempt to be a "business man". When I was schooling, it occurred to me to purchase some raw peanut , get it roasted by mom and sell it at a profits as done by some children in our village in those days . I calculated the profit comparing the purchase price with the selling price and found that it was indeed a profitable business. Since I could not afford to buy one kilogram of raw peanuts , I bought half a kilogram and got it roasted by my mom.But the problem was that people would not come to me asking for peanut and I had to market it roaming in the village shouting " peanuts, peanuts". This was something I could not even dream of since every one knew that I was a shy and timid boy very stingy even while talking to my parents.More over lethargy was an in born trait in me which I refuse to part with even today. Therefore a close frined of mine was entrusted with the tals of marketing the peanuts on commission basis . He was very talkative and hence fit for this type of trade and I was sure that he could do the job very easily. When he went away with peanuts, I waited eagerly for his return. But my friend came to me in the evening with the empty metal can in which he had carried the peanut saying that he could not sell anything and confessing that he could not resist the temptation of roasted peanuts and had to consume the peanuts to compensate for the energy he had lost while roaming in the hot sun . To justify his stand he also told me how the cashew nut was known in Kerala as Kappalandi (meaning shipnut) as captain of a ship visiting Kerala once could not stop when he began to eat cashew nuts and had to sell his ship for this purpose .


That was the inglorious end of the business man in me as if the idea was nipped by God in the bud itself as He knows that business is not my cup of tea as I am unfit for such a task. One very often wonders whether morality can go hand in hand with a business mind which always looks for profit. An honest friend of mine who ran a shop in Doha for about 30 years still find it difficult to make both ends meets where as his friend running similar shop next door has amassed a lot of wealth. The difference is the the former does not cheat or lie to his customers where as the latter does every thing to sell his merchandise.

By the Father

The Fancy World

The splashes I hear,

The feelings that I fear…

That I may run down the path,

To feel the heavenly drops…

Trickling on me to keep me under the blanket

For the next few days…

The music I here,

The leaves that dance ,

To the rhythmic chant of wind,

And the birds chirping in their nest,

Speaks to me that there are greater

Treasures to be unveiled

In this fancy world.

Children with innocent faces

Unaware of the hidden dangers ahead of them

Always hoping for fun and laughter,

Greet the rain with cheers and hurrays,

Every time they appear in their windows

For the next few months.

Hovering over the trees and rocks,

And Bathing the tiny creatures under them,

And covering the air with cold and freshness,

Tells me there is hope and chance ahead of me.

I wonder how long they last,

And how long I will last…

To enjoy the treasures of this fancy world…

By the niece

Three days and the Journey continues ...

Short Story

Day 1

The Kurla Express was more than punctual today, strolling into the platform No 1 of Calicut railway station like a Giant serpent roaring and hissing all the way. Never in my last five years have I seen a train or any other public transport arriving so  early. As any other Keralite , I tried to take it as a positive gesture as I needed to stay optimistic to keep going. On any other day as any other traveler I would have been happy to see the train . But my mind was in chaos. I began thinking , has it come  too early to bring me closer to the inevitable.

We have our own way of getting into a public transport vehicle. One foot on the foot board and one hand held firmly to the steel  handle , then push and re- push. Don’t forget to squeeze the poor souls who are trying to get out and while you are in. With much of hustle and bustle , I finally managed to  obtain a window seat. I would rather cancel my trip than sitting anywhere else. I have always behaved like an adamant child when it comes to the window seat. Have you ever tried to change a child’s attention from his favorite candy. Wrestling, bullying , pleading ,begging , I have even offered money for it. I have many reasons why I preferred that position. I always loved to view the world through that small window. It gave me the feeling that I am just a small part of this vast universe and a very tiny drop in this endless ocean of humanbeings. The running trees and buildings reminded me how fast the life changes and  the cool air hitting my face always refreshed my mind however disturbed I am. Secondly , I could rest my head on the window so that I wouldn't hit my neighbour with my head when  I fall asleep. Lastly , I could easily pull the chain when something goes wrong . I was just joking as it would be the last thing to do . I would rather prefer somebody else to do it and loose Rs 5000 . With a rocking movement like a cradle the train gained momentum as it raced on the two parallel rails.

People had settled in their seats. Journey in a train was almost like a picnic. Most of the travelers were employers who travel daily and hence they get familiar. People would bring their breakfast and share it among others, play cards and pokers, discuss many things from domestic to politics and even impeach the American president. Just a week ago I had travelled in the same train with a different mood and purpose. But I had now no interest in all these. Last week had suddenly changed my life. A sore throat which I had been ignoring with over the counter medication took me to a doctor when I noticed my voice change. An almost casual visit to the doctor got me worried when he advised me a specialist consultation as he suspected a swelling in my throat. It’s funny how my doctors explained my disease. My first doctor called it a swelling or nodule. But the specialist who did an endoscopy called it a plaque or growth which he feels was “ potentialy” dangerous. So he takes a piece of it and sends to for testing. Now what I don’t understand was how a swelling is different from a growth, and how does a ‘growth’ become more dangerous. The report was even more confusing. The doctor said that there was increased cell division and something called mitosis which frankly I didn’t understand. I remember from my primary class that it has something to do with cell division and growth. So I was again cornered to the same term , “ growth”. But I thought growing was good. Whatever , the doctor needed to recheck my report at a higher centre , so here I am with a piece of my body in a formaline bottle, which was growing and could turn my life upside down. But what I understood from my doctor’s face was that I was having something which frightened even the experienced doctor.

“Paldesi paldesi chana nehi, muche dhodke muche dhodke”, I had almost slipped into a slumber when the famous song but in a cacophony woke me up. An emaciated tribal lady in a shabby dress with an equally dirty child was singing at her maximum. She has something like a wooden piece in her hand which she was rhythmically clapping and the child was spreading his hands in front of the travelers for money. I wonder why these people never try to correct their lyrics, nor did any of the spectators. Most of them just threw pennies at them just to escape from their torment. Most of the travelers were sleeping or half sleeping. A school girl was busy reading her notebook. May be she had her exam today. A well dressed man in his sixty’s was trying to take his bag from the upper rack with great difficulty. The train had already reached my destination. I took my bag with great care and towards the cabin door where a group people were ready to push their way through. It was already late evening , so decided to stay a motel for the night.

Day 2

I got up early the next day or to say that I didn’t sleep would be truer. This has been my routine for the last one week. The moment I close my eyes my mind wandered off to my childhood memories, school days , the court yard where I played , the ponds where I went fishing with my friends, the trees which I climbed , the dogs which I chased. Everything would just come in front of my eyes and haunt me. The sun was yet to show the light, yet the day had already begun. The news paper boy was on the run with his pile of papers. He was may be the weakest link in the news delivery system, yet if he fails to deliver them hot all the work which preceded him would be a waste. Ladies were strolling to the nearby temples clad in neat and white saris. They were probably the reason why many boys were attracted to visit God. Everyone was live and playing their part in this cosmos. The sun slowly lighted up the earth.

I reached the medical centre in time. I handed over the bottle and the investigation form to the receptionist. She seemed quite unconcerned seeing my probable diagnosis. May be she sees hundreds of patients every week and that must have hardened her heart. But she could had at least smiled. They asked me to come the next day. So I had the entire day with me. But that was the most agonizing thing considering my state of mind. I had lunch for namesake at a hotel nearby. I didn’t want to go to the lodge as the loneliness was unbearable.

I decided to spend my evening at the sea shore. Watching the waves roaring towards the shore bringing everything it has towards the shore. But however big it becomes it has to just leave everything at the shore and return empty handed. It is almost the state of humans. He gathers all the fancies of this world, but has to return empty handed whoever he may be. He just has to face the inevitable alone. There were not many people around except for some elderly couples who came for the evening walk. This again annoyed me for some unknown reason. Watching the waves coming in alternatively I lost track of the time. The orange sun had already half dipped into the sea suddenly tears came flowing from my eyes. A strange emotion filled my heart that I couldn’t stand there. Seeing the sun set filled my mind with thoughts of doom and sorrow. I hurried from the place not even waiting for the sun to vanish in between the waves. My mind was in anguish even after I returned to my room. I didn’t have the habit of taking sleeping pill and didn’t want to start one. I remembered a joke which I read in a magazine about I prisoner who was asked about his last wish on his day of execution. He first thought of asking for a cigarette, but then refused least he would make it a habit. My situation was not in any way better than his.

Day 3

Surprisingly I had a good sleep. May be it was going to be a good day for me. The news paper boy and the pious ladies were right on time. I liked the perspective that everything was as it should be, but was not sure what was right fOr me.

I reached the medical centre a bit late. They told me to wait in the visitor’s room. There were a few people anxiously waiting for their call. Seeing these souls comforted me, but this was surely not a company I wanted to be in. I had to spend an anxious hour before I was called. I was accompanied by a nurse into the doctor’s room. He was a middle aged gentleman with grey starting spin webs on his hair. He showed me the chair and asked the nurse to leave us. He had a pile of papers in his hand which I supposed would be my reports. I wondered there was so much written about the small piece I brought. The doctor asked me some questions regarding my complaints for the last week. After a small pause he took of his spectacles, kept it on the table and took the reports. I closed my eyes and sharpened my ears. The doctor was speaking in clear language but I could not hear a word. I slowly opened my eyes , but the only thing I could see was a long dark corridor with a tiny speck light at its end. I understood that the journey was just beginning for me and slowly started walking  towards it.

By the eldest son

The Newcomer

"Between the earth and sky above, nothing can match a grandmother's love."  Author anonymous.



My only daughter gave birth to her first child, a boy who is now 7 years old and is an inexhaustible source happiness for all of us especially for my wife. She  had the opportunity to look after him when he was a baby and his mom had to leave him with her to go to work. Ever since he began to speak , he calls her as mom and not grandma. One can very easily watch the emotional attachment between them and understand how much his grandma loves being called as mom.

Our grandson is so tender hearted that when we return to Doha after our vacation he finds it difficult even to take his meals saying that he feels sorry as memories of his grandma sadden him . Once when he visited Doha with his mom, he took with him a Hindi song CD. But after returning to India, when the CD was played to let him listen to his favourite songs, he said that he did not want to listen to it as it reminded him of his grandpa and that he felt sorry for being away from him in spite of the fact that his grandpa unfortunately belong to that category of people who take things for granted, fail terribly in expressing their feelings and find it hard even to smile at others. Our grandson is an exact replica of his father in every respect and mingles very easily with others .

When our grand son, Insaf, was born, I was one of the persons present in the hospital . One cannot forget those tense moments while waiting outside the labour room, every one waiting eagerly to welcome the newcomer to our family and running to the door when ever it was open assuming that the nurse was looking for them and I recall how we were relieved when the nurse informed us that our daughter had given birth to a baby boy. When my wife delivered her youngest son in Doha the whole process was entirely different. I literally handed over her to the hospital where none except a female ayah is allowed to stay with her and went home . I don’t know if I had slept that night but can recall that at midnight I received a telephone call from a nurse known to us that the my wife had delivered a boy and that I could visit her next day only. She remained in the hospital for one day and was discharged and we had to settle no bills as medical care is free of charge in Doha.

In early seventies when my sister  complained of labour pain at our home, I was asked to bring the midwife living in the nearby village. I recall how I accompanied by our neighbour Karapputty’s mother went on foot to the midwife’s house . We had to walk for about half an hour to reach her house at midnight . But to our pleasant surprise when we reached home together with the midwife  we found that my sister had delivered a baby girl and both the mother and her child were safe.

The other day when my eldest son informed us he was also joining the rank of fathers, I took it for granted as usual. A few days ago when my sister asked me whether there were " good news" from our son who had married in December, 2010, I wondered why people chase the newly wedded couple soon after their marriage and start posing questions if there is "good news" or not . Did they forget that time has changed and marital happiness is now days measured by postponing childbearing?

What ensued after the flash news released by our son was a jubilant atmosphere in which every one rejoiced and me remaining silent expressing no feelings .Discussions between his mother and sister soon started on what to name the child when would be the delivery and who has to be with my daughter in law during the month of her delivery. It seemed that every one was waiting for the news.

Latest reports from Chandigarh where my son and his better half live indicate that my daughter in law is suffering from  morning sickness. But when we saw her  on the Skype we realised that  he condtion  was  not as worse as  we had thought and that she was  far better than her mother in law  when she began to carry her first child in 1978. She was bedridden  without drinking or eating any thing nor was she speaking to any one. I had to hire a taxi and take her to her mother  whose face  turned pale   when she saw us as if she had expected something unpleasant  as it was a surprise visit. When I explained the symptoms she was relieved.

My wife has begun to follow her daughter in law very closely asking her son to abandon his callousness, to take special care of his wife, ensure that his wife was eating well though it was long distance and remote control care. She is very lucky like every one else these days since she can video-chat with his son and daughter in law live through Skype whereas in 1979 when she was hospitalized for her first delivery in India and I was in Doha , I had to wait for hours after booking a trunk call just to talk to some one and enquire about her and even after getting connection through the assistance of a friend of mine working in the telephone department in Doha it was disconnected before completing what I wanted to say. In those days the main means of communication was letters which took more than a week to travel from India to Doha and sometimes it never arrived due to some mistakes of postal workers in India or Doha. I remember the tension while opening the post box and the disappointment while not receiving any letters from my kith and kin. Those were days when every one travelling from the gulf to India and vice-versa had to carry a large number of letters and deliver them to the addresses after reaching their destinations. Those letters provided the readers with an ineffable pleasure and one enjoyed reading them time and again. Now a days when we chat we feel that we are missing something and we don’t feel the fervour and zeal we had while reading letters in the past. Today’s pleasures are instant and bubble like and not perennial as it used to be in the past.

By The Father 

Still Waters

By the Niece

Emotions

By the Niece



The cost of being human

As human beings we are all born with some humane traits.. As we grow we either remain same , or develop them or regress to inhuman nature. I believe that you might have watched the films Munna Bhai MBBS and Patch Adams , where the Professor says , “ We are not here to make friends , we are here to become doctors. Does being doctor prevent you from coming close to patients or should it?

Once during my MBBS internship, I was doing casualty duty. It was a very busy day when none of the residents on duty was not able to sit even for a while. A young girl was admitted in the ward with meningitis at a very critical stage. Usually a doctor is posted in the ward to take care of such cases , but unfortunately none was available there . The relatives of the patient approached the casualty complaining about the condition of their child. My casualty ward was full of patients and I was not in charge of the ward patients , however they insisted on seeing the child. As the child was in deplorable condition , I ,with great difficulty, arranged someone to look after the casualty and decided to have a look. The child was having severe infection and was in altered sensorium. She was receiving all the required medication and all we could do was to wait for the medicines to start acting. I explained the situation to the parents of the child and returned to my ever busy casualty. Unfortunately the child succumbed to the disease and as usual the mob was berserk. I was called by the investigating committee for enquiry and the matter was settled. Three years after the incident I received a letter from the Superintendent of our college to give explanation for the mishap that day. Even though it was just a matter of writing that I was not my duty in the ward that day , I felt the sorry of getting involved in such an incident which I had nothing to do. Now , if I had just concealed my human part and stayed away taking care of the matters of the casualty I would have been spared of all the trouble.

We had a senior doctor who was very passionate to her patients. Usually when we discharge patients from the ward, they are supposed to get their dressing done at the minor operation theatre at the out-patient department. The waiting line at the minor operation theatre is usually long and patients find it difficult to wait for hours. Our senior doctor had a patient who needed dressing daily for nearly a month. So she took pity on the patients and used to do the dressing in the ward. One day as she was very busy with the ward duties and asked a patient to get dressing done at the minor operation theatre. The patient straight away went to the professor and complained that our senior used to take money from him for dressing in the ward and refused that day since he did not give her money for once. The doctor was thus humiliated for being sincere to her patient. If only she had concealed her humane part and asked the patient to queue and get the dressing done at the minor operation theatre, she would have escaped from the torment.

The other day one of our consultants remembered how a patient hit by some vehicle and left unattended and was brought to the hospital by a hospital staff itself. He was in a very bad state when he reached the emergency. A deep cut wound to his neck had drained most of his blood and he was immediately was taken to the hospital. The residents ran a marathon between the operation theatre and the blood bank to arrange fourteen bottles of blood. I have never been able to arrange more than four bottle of blood for any patient. More than ten is virtually impossible. Fortunately the patient survived. He was later called to a TV programme and asked to narrate his experience at the hospital. To everyone’s astonishment and without any scruples he said that he had received a very poor medical care from the hospital. Our department and hospital would not have been humiliated if the residents had not been over enthusiastic about arranging blood.

Few years back I read an article in a magazine about the plight of an ayurvedic doctor. He had given some medicine to his patient and the patient developed paralysis after taking it. The relatives and local people got angry and created chaos at his clinic. The doctor who was quite sure that this could not have been due to his medicine, volunteered to consume the drug himself to prove his innocence not knowing that wife of his patient has poisoned the medicine to get rid of her husband the doctor was paralyzed for the rest of his life.

A few years ago a patient was brought to a private hospital with head injury following road traffic accident. As it was a clear case of head injury and the hospital was not equipped with neuro-care the doctor referred the patient to higher centre. But the relative was adamant to admit the patient there for first aid care. But the doctor knowing the futility of loosing valuable time insisted on taking the patient to safer place. The patient died on his way and the people attacked the hospital. I say that the doctor should have admitted the patient , painted his bruises and added some income to his hospital. So what if the patient died , he would have satisfied the crowd and saved his skin. I remember when my father met with an accident and sustained head injury the resident doctor at the primary centre had called me to inform the status. I immediately advised the doctor to transfer my father to a higher centre.

One of my relatives was telling me the story of his friend who developed chest discomfort and taken to a private hospital. They did an electrocardiography and seeing that his condition was normal, the patient was sent back for resting at home. But that night he was admitted with heart attack. He was trying to tell me the ignorance of the doctor misdiagnosing a heart attack for something trivial. Prodromal or early symptoms of heart attack are very much similar to gastritis and are often mistaken. So whenever a patient comes with similar complaints it is a protocol to admit him in intensive care unit and observe for at least 24 hours. Seeing the financial condition of the patient, the doctor must have advised against ICU admission , which quite surprised me as private hospitals might do anything to get money. If he had followed the protocol and admitted the patient it would have cost the patient around Rs 15 000 and it turned out to be a mere gastritis , the same person would tell that the doctor robbed the patient.

People who say that doctor should be more humane would never accept that doctors are prone to err. The more one is human, the more he is guided by emotions and the more he is prone to mistakes. Well I don’t think that people consider doctors as human beings at all. The are not supposed to voice for a fair pay or the basic minimum hours of rest, but who cares. Never forget that Munna of Munna bhai could not stand his patient’s death and decided to quite and patch Adams , lost his love who was killed by his psychotic patient. So to be , or not to be human is still an intriguing question that remains unanswered as far as I am concerned..

The eldest son

A DOCTOR'S DAY

Piles of books with pages unturned

Heaps of cloths so shabby and frayed

With a stony back and boring air

I started my day , lazy and unfair

The cool breeze caressing my hair

 I raced to the ward so late in despair

The shining sun and the singing bird

Tried to remind me there’s hope and reward

Which I purposely  and half heartedly ignored

As the only thing that   troubled my head

Were the miserables in my ward

And reports I had to prepare  for those patients uncured

The first bed was a child in her charm and joy

Whose smile, angels would envy and damsels would shy

But my eyes would only see her veins

For I had to send her blood in bottles, so mean

The outpatients were a sea of people in pain

But all I saw was chaos and complain

The grandma with hair as white as a fairy,

face as innocent that melt hardest quarry

The grandpa who’s face a board of crisscross,

who’s complacent look no human could overpass

But nothing could crack my hardened soul,

not raising my eyes I disposed them all

When the circle high parted the sky

I reached my room with heavy eyes

Hoping the next be a better day

I laid in my bed tired and taken away .

By

The eldest son

A Farmer

By the Youngest son

Desires ……

The helium balloon seller at the Rose Festival drove my mind back to some 20 years. My memories drifted to an area in Doha known as Mughalina where a child was playing with a helium balloon in the courtyard of the residential compound. He had been dreaming of the multicolored heart shaped balloons with the picture of his favorite cartoon character Mickey mouse ever since it was shown in the advertisements of the carnival. This was different from any other balloon. It just rises to the sky and flies away once you leave it and creates the  impression  that you are in command holding the power to release it. His only pbjective  of going to the carnival was to buy the balloon. But his father was initially hesitant as he didn’t find the desire of his child so convincing . But the child used the most  efficacious  weapon in a child’s armory which no parent can combat. He started crying at a high pitch and it took just a matter of minutes for his father to change his mind. He got his much awaited gift. He raised it to the sky holding the string . "No, I won’t let you fly. You can only fly as much as I allow you". He never took his eyes off it. Such was its beauty that the glamour and glitters of the carnival just dissipated in front of it. He tied it to his right hand and was afraid even to change hands lest it might escape. Even after returning home when his family was dining, he was outside playing with it and raising it to the sky. Gazing at it with the stars and the moon in the background was so alluring. The mood had never been so jovial and the stars so charming .

But just like a needle popping a soap bubble, his dream crumbled to dust all on sudden . The string tied to his hand snapped and the balloon flew away to the never ending horizon. He just stood there motionless like a statue for about 5 minutes. He could not understand what had happened. He pinched himself to ensure that he was not dreaming. He felt as if his world had turned upside down. He had lost his hard fought gift just like that. Slowly the fear of facing others crept to his mind . He couldn’t face his father, mother, siblings and the neighbors as a loser. His little mind thought of ways to escape the agony. He decided to run away and went towards the compound gate, but the security guard was there. Therefore he decided to hide in the car porch and wait for the security guard to sleep. In the meantime his parents had sensed his long time absence and had begun to look for him . The whole colony woke up and started searching for him. Children joined elders calling him by his name and earnestly requesting him to come out. His mind became filled with guilt and shame. Tears started wetting his tender cheeks. His weak heart could withstand it no more. He decided to run towards the gate. But by that time his father found him at his hiding place, ran towards him , took him in his arms and kissed him on his cheeks in front of the much relieved residents of the compound. His mother was waiting at home in tears. She could not stop  weeping even after finding his missing child unhurt. It took a few minutes for her to believe her eyes . She took him to his bed and he soon fell asleep.

I just told you of my first attempt to abscond. When I ponder over it now I feel how silly I was to think of abandoning everything so dear to me , just to escape the agony of losing something as simple as a balloon. But this is the way that human mind works. Every one of us has this feeling in the heart of our hearts. We never like to part with our likes. The feeling of losing something we like is so strong in human mind that he would sacrifice everything, even his life to hold on to it. On July 18, 2006 the former football player V P Satyan committed suicide writing a note that he was vexed in his life as he had lost his wealth and was also addicted to drinking and gambling. This is just an example of the vast number of such incidents .Husband does not turn up to take his wife to the theatre on the wedding anniversary day as promised, wife commits suicide; salty dish preparation annoys mother in law, daughter in law commits suicide; father forgets to purchase new clothes for birthday, son commits suicide; mother does not permit her daughter to go for picnic, daughter commits suicide ; so on and so forth.

Human desires keep on growing one after the other. I cannot remember how many times I have prayed, Oh God, fulfill this need of mine, I would be the happiest person in the world. Once it is fulfilled another one pops in . I think I use this excuse almost every day. My  higher studies , examinations, competitions, ambitions, marriage and the list never ends. Rightly said by Aristotle that, “It is the nature of desire not to be satisfied, and most men live only to gratify it”. Despite being proclaimed as the most powerful and determined creature on earth due to his Giga mind, it is his mind that renders him the weakest of all creatures . His desire for the material pleasures makes him vulnerable. “How helpless we are, like netted birds , when we are caught by desire” , Belva Plain.

But man devoid of desires is nothing . I tried to cleanse my mind of desires. But then I realized that it is these desires that have sustained so far. I wake up every day to fulfill my desires. People without desires are like a cut loose kite, flying but lifeless. I had tried to sleep without any longing for the next day. But then I understood why I should wake up at all. Like an Arab saying goes, “Dwell not upon thy weariness, thy strength shall be according to the measure thy desires”. It is only when your desire overpowers yourself and you fails to attain them, that most of the people are thrown into chaos. Controlling ones desires is easier said than done as Aristotle once said, “ I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who overcomes his enemies”.

By the eldest son