A LETTER TO A DAUGHTER An Excerpt from ‘I AM JUST AN ORDINARY MAN’

A LETTER TO A DAUGHTER

An Excerpt from ‘I AM JUST AN ORDINARY MAN’

Now that you must have read An Extraordinary Man (Amitabh Bachchan)’s letter to his granddaughter, I request you to spend some time to read the letter written by an Ordinary Man to his daughters much earlier.

I am posting this excerpt from my book ‘I am just An Ordinary Man’ which was released in October 2014. I know a number of you who have read the book may relish (hope so) reading it again, but it is to the vast majority of friends who have not read the book who I wish will read this and may be find an echo of their own feelings. 

‘Who would want to read the auto biography of an ordinary man? I know you will and may be other ordinary men. No one is going to write our biography; we are not that interesting.’

My grandson is a beautiful child and I am sure one day he shall grow up being a handsome and confident young man. But above all I wish to see him as a loving and good human being. I am hopeful that I shall be there to see this happen. I know you are capable of giving him all the love that he needs, but you have to ensure in the process that he is given his space and is allowed to develop independently. For this, it is absolutely necessary for you to take stock of your emotions and keep them under control. At every step you should make him understand what is expected of him for it is never too early to start. It’s most important he should understand the value of relationships. I look forward to the day (maybe when I am eighty years old) when I come over to your place on a visit he gives me a big hug and says “Hello grandpa, how are you?” that would be enough.

When I look back over the years, I think your mother and I have as parents given you and your sister all the love and space you needed to grow up as individuals who can take their own decisions and chart the course of their own lives. I am happy that you both have grown up as good human beings and I have no doubt about that. Of course we each have our own fallibilities but in the ultimate analysis if we can live a life devoid of all those base instincts of jealousy and a desire to hurt other people through our actions and words, it is a worthwhile life. I always wish that you become stronger, realize your own worth and are able to face any adversity with equanimity and firmness. Believe in yourself and never be shy of standing up for what is right. These are qualities which you will be passing on to your child.

Your mother and I are as individuals very different in our views and approach to life but we have been together for thirty five years and the passage of time has in no way diminished the love we have between us. That is because we have given each other the space required by us as individuals in our own right and a tolerance towards each other’s views and above all a trust that has grown stronger over the years. Not that we have not had our fights or have not been irritated at each other sometimes, we still have them but they have been of no consequence given the strength of the relationship. We may belong to a different generation than yours and have not been subjected to the pressures of the present day living and demands, but I guess the basic definitions for happiness, understanding and relationships will hold to whichever generation you may belong to.

I have always found that the best way to handle people who irritate you is to ignore them and move away. Conflict does not get us anywhere except increase the existing tension. By this, I do not propagate the view that one should always keep quiet for there will be situations where you feel that what is happening is unjust. In that case you have to speak out and make the other person see reason, or at least understand your point of view. If this also fails, then you will be left with no option but to fight it out. But, are we prepared for this? Do we have the necessary mental setup to withstand the consequences of such an action? These are questions that you will have to answer for yourself. I can only say that injustice should never be tolerated.

 I never like to be preached upon and I try to avoid preaching to others. But I say all this out of parental concern. Your mother may have different views but we have only one thing in our minds and that is you should be happy and comfortable in your life. We never expect demonstrations of affection for we know you love us and that is enough.

Our life is one endless stream of choices. At every step we are forced to choose. We choose to accept or we choose to rebel. Ultimately the life you are living is the life you have chosen. There is no point blaming someone or for that matter God, that things have not gone the way you expected them to be. You make compromises all the way to ensure that you are not inconvenienced in the conduct of your life. In the process you may lose all that you had held as valuable. It is when we want to retain our values that we choose to rebel. Rebellion brings with it its own share of misery and suffering but it ensures that your life becomes more authentic and helps you realize your own worth.

As a father I can always advise you. Like I said I am concerned and that is the only reason. Do not allow yourself to be manipulated and do not manipulate others. Be a good person but be firm in your relationships and let people know that you are an individual in your own right and that you expect respect in return for respect. I never want to hear a weak voice when I talk to you and would always like to see you with an erect stature and look people in their eyes when you interact with them. These are the signs of an individual who knows oneself.

I have written this letter to you and would like you to keep it and show it to your children when they grow up so that they are able to understand and appreciate the concern that parents have towards their children. I am sure that with all the love that you are capable of giving them they will grow up to be fine human beings

TIME HAS PASSED

Time Has Passed

Time has passed,

We have moved in space,

But, certain mornings like this,

I sit in bed and gaze,

Through the window.

The cooling green

Of the tender day,

Sways,

My heart leaps, bounces,

Back to the past,

To the little rock,

On which we stayed

To hear the gentle tones,

Trickle,

And caress our feet.

Time has passed,

We have moved in space,

But, in the stillness

Of certain moments,

When the heart seeks

The softness it once perceived,

On the river’s bank,

Through the strands of hair,

That softly slid,

And veiled,

Her smooth surface.

Time has passed,

We have moved in space, but….

The Brook

The  Brook

The clouds crept in,

Kissing every tree,

Devouring every leaf,

Leaving the beyond clad

In a ghostly garment.

And as the icy hands

Slid across my face,

I shivered,

And stood still.

Below this very pine,

We had lain,

Letting the tender sunshine,

Of our love,

Overflow,

To the brook below,

Down into the valley,

To spread and settle down,

In tranquillity.

And the clouds crept in,

Kissing,

Devouring me.

Only the restlessness of the brook

Kept me awake, to this

Enveloping solitude.

And it was the brook,

That had sung,

The lullaby of my love.

Drifter

Drifter

Drifter,

You peacefully make your way,

Across ephemeral heights,

Look down,

This mortal tries to reach you,

Shed a tear or two,

Cleanse him,

His frivolous fantasies,,

Have stained and stirred his whim.

Drifter,

You drift away endlessly,

Showering on distant views,

Like a lover, your nectar;

Whilst he a balloon bloats,

Rises high,

In new found power;

Punctured,

Falls down dead and dry,

An autumn leaf from the sky.

Drifter,

Sometimes ominous, in greyish form,

You burst in tears and seek,

To reform,

Our brownish parched pastures,

To dress in verdant cloaks,

While he in rapture,

Squeezes out little saltish drops,

To revive in vain those visions lost

Drifter,

I gaze above,

Your whiskers white,

With silent wisdom,

Makes me shiver.

As my ignorance heightens,

Assumes appalling attitudes,

Dumbfounded I bow my head,

On the guillotine,

Awaiting my execution.

Darkness And Beyond by GS. Subbu

HELLO DOCTOR – PART 1 WHITE COAT SYNDROME

HELLO DOCTOR – PART 1

WHITE COAT SYNDROME

“I suffer from white coat syndrome” my friend said.

“So why don’t you see a doctor” I asked.

He gave me a sullen look “You must be joking” he said.

“What do you mean I am joking? If you have a problem you see the doctor, don’t you?” I asked.

“That’s precisely the problem, the doctor, I mean. Every time I walk into his dispensary my blood pressure shoots up” he replied.

Well I did not understand why it should be so, till I found out for myself. That happened two years later.

I was waiting my turn with the file in my hands containing the necessary papers including the appointment letter: my appointment as a Probationary officer in the bank subject to a satisfactory report from the Bank’s Medical Officer. I watched as a kindred soul walked out of the dispensary with a look on his face which said that the death penalty had been pronounced. He was shaking his head when I approached him to ask how it had gone. Before he could answer I heard a gruff voice from inside calling out “Next candidate come in”.

I had always been used to the friendly neighborhood doctor, a rotund affable man with a laugh like the neigh of a horse, which he was generous enough to let out every time you went to him with a sore throat and couldn’t laugh back in reciprocation, or a high fever when you sat shivering in front of him. He would shove the thermometer into your mouth as soon as you opened it to say you were having fever and then continue to enquire about the well-being of the others at home. I would always go back home equipped with medicine for two days and instructions to see him after that. He would write his prescription on a sheet of paper in a language I could never decipher though I guess it was in English. The only person who could read it sat behind a window in the next room , and on receipt of the prescription would take out some tablets (in various colors) crush them in a small crucible and then carefully measure the doses as per the prescription and pack them; eight packets neatly packed in paper torn from the previous day’s newspaper. His advice to me before I left was “You can have curd rice.” Well it worked. I remember the dispensary would always be filled with patients and one had to wait for at least half an hour before your turn came.

Years, rather decades later when I went to live in the same neighborhood he was still there now old, but still rotund and affable. When I went to see him, he was sitting on his chair with his legs on the table and in front of him sat the ‘man behind the window’ also having grown old along with his mentor. There were no patients in the outside hall and as I entered his room that same laughter rang out, obviously both the friends were having a good laugh. It was that laughter that had cured many a patient; the medicines were only props.

Well coming back to our own Bank's Medical Officer, as soon as I entered the room I saw this monstrosity of a man gesturing me to take my seat and simultaneously reaching out for the file in my hand.

“Do you suffer from any medical condition?” he asked.

“No Sir” I replied.

“Well we shall see how healthy you really are” he said and grinned at me. That was unnerving – the grin.

“Go and lie on the bed over there” he said and gestured to his assistant to lead me. I had the vague feeling of a lamb being led to slaughter.

His huge figure loomed over me as he got ready to check my blood pressure. He placed the cuff of the sphygmomanometer on my upper arm and started to inflate and as I felt the pressure on my arm increase thoughts of getting strangulated did cross my mind. Removing the cuff from my arm and after packing up the BP instrument, he returned to his seat and waved me over.

“You have hypertension” he said.

“What?” I asked, his words not really sinking in.

“You have high blood pressure,” he growled.

“So what should I do?” I asked.

“Come back and see me after it becomes normal.”

Before I could open my mouth to speak again, he shouted “Next candidate.”

And I was out in flat ten minutes.

One thing I definitely noticed when I was in the room, he was wearing a long white coat. Ever since, the white coat continues to haunt me.

Well how did I really get through the medical examination (the Bank’s entrance exam in contrast was a cake walk)?

That’s another story – (To be continued)

  

SECRETS OF THE SOUL - 14 HELL

SECRETS OF THE SOUL - 14

Hell

I seek the secrets of the soul,

Under a shade from the blistering heat,

Stray dogs lie curled by my feet,

Seeking refuge and company,

A drop of nectar to soothe the wounds,

Burns and blisters that surface,

For in the lives of men there comes a day,

When passions push and they fall a prey,

Sink to abysmal depths of desire,

Scorched and drowned in the raging fire.

Is this what, when people tell,

For your sins you burn in hell?