Love The Imperfections

One Day, my father came home after a long hard working day, I sat beside him and my mother bought him a glass of cold drinking water.  He was looking frustrated but answered my every question very calmly. My mother accidentally burned the curry that she was cooking in the kitchen. When the dinner was served, I was waiting for my father’s response. He served the food to me and her. He ate the burned curry with calm and patient look. There was a smile on his face.

“Honey! The food is good,” he complemented.

After dinner, I went to ask my father.

“Did you like the burned curry?”

He answered that you mom get frustrated every day but she makes food for all of us. It is not guaranteed that every day will be perfect. So love the imperfections and try to compliment it with a smile. Relationships last longer by this small-small act of kindness, patience and love as action speaks louder than words.

“Love the imperfections and compliment it with a smile”

Unmatched School Uniform

One day, my father took me into a building and we headed towards the reception. The receptionist directed us to the account office. My father took out some money from the pocket gave it to the squat person who was having a stubble on his face sitting on a long chair in the accountant office. He counted the money and put it into the locker just beneath his desk.

‘“Your child’s admission is confirmed,” He said in a croaky tone.

“This is your school,” My father said to me. “You have to come here every day”

My father purchased the school dress from the school stationary shop and gave it to me. I was holding it and my eyes constantly gazed at it. A light blue shirt and dark blue pants.

“Who wears that combination?” I thought

“You have to wear it every day,” My dad said with a smile.

My first day at school and I was crying in patches requesting teachers to let me go home. This continued for few days until I got over it. Some things got added to my daily routine.

“Wait! It was not added to mine, it was added to my mother’s”

She had to wake me up at 7.00 am, get me ready, made me to wear my unmatched school uniform and prepared food for me. My father fulfilled the job of dropping me to school every day on his scooter.

With each passing day, I got used to the routine. I made some friends and suddenly I wanted to go school every day. Ironed dress, polished shoes and a school tie became my companions from eight in the morning to two in the noon. I passed my classes’ over and over in one attempt and made many friends through this beautiful journey. I was an above average student as I scored good marks in all the subjects except Hindi. I remember that I had to write my Hindi notebook four times in 8^th standard due to bad handwriting. I would hate my Hindi teacher all my life.

“But I had not improved my handwriting till now”

I made my best friends in 9^th standard who are still with me. I started loving my weird dress as I lived most alluring moments wearing it. Time passed and I was promoted to 10^th standard, one of the most puffed classes due to board exams. Extra classes with lots of study and practice exams made the year stressful. Board exams started to haunt all day and night. We studied hard but I realized that there is an unnecessary puff created regarding this.

Soon the results were declared and I scored whopping eighty four percent which landed me in the science stream. Two years after 10^th standard were the most enchanting for me. I enjoyed like anything in 11^th standard. 12^th standard was again boards so same story was repeated as in 10^th standard. Soon the results were declared and I scored three percent more this time.

The day came when I had to leave school where I spent 12 years of enjoyment, stress and hard work. A song was played on the farewell day which resembled friendship. All were revolving around in the form of circle, holding hands and singing the song. Tears could be seen in everyone’s eyes. I wished if there were time machine, I would like to live these 12 years again. All promised to stay connected and I headed back home. I undressed my unmatched school uniform, ironed it and constantly gazed at it.

I want to wear this combination again and again,” I said to myself. A tear drop trickled down my cheek.

Is This What They Deserve?

“One more raid and I will be the player with most raids in the world cup,” The thought was hovering every moment.

The stadium was full of spectators chanting my name that made me nervous and energetic at the same time. My ears flooded with country’s name.

“India! India!”

The environment made me patriotic and my self determination soared to a new level. I went for the raid, held my breath and reiterated the word.

“Kabaddi”

I stretched my foot and ankle touch did it all. I went back to my section and patted my thigh with right hand, a symbol used after every successful raid. My team was all over me in exhilaration. The whistle was blown and it was a win for my country and I was the hero.

I held up the tri-color national flag up in the air sitting on the shoulders of my team mates. My hard work and determination paid it all. Tears were coming out of happiness. A super hero feeling got instilled in me. It was the best gift I gave to my country which filled me with pride and my chest appeared extended by few centimeters more.

I was called on the stage in the prize ceremony and gold medal was awarded.  The camera man focused and I showed the medal held in my hand with a big smile on the face.

A drop of water from above and my eyes opened from sleep, I got up and glanced at the medal on an almost broken table in front of me. I looked up and saw the ceiling of the roof leaking due to rain. I could hear an irritating sound that old beds generally make when we try to move a bit. The indigent condition told that everything is ephemeral.

“A gold medalist in Kabaddi at world level, is this I deserve?” The question came in my mind. My real memories while sleeping continued further.

After winning it, I was at the IGI airport and no one was there to welcome me. The expectations came down like someone has crushed something under his shoes. The smile on the face faded away the very next moment. I pondered that

“No one knows me or No one wants to know me”

The medal was not only a piece of gold; it was a result of my struggle and an uphill battle that I faced with the whole world. It was the way that could carve out me from my parsimonious condition but no one dared to notice it. My association members were not even there to felicitate me.  No one was there who could say

“You made us proud.”

I boarded an auto rickshaw and the driver treated me like any common man. He turned on the radio and I could hear

“It’s a six and Dhoni finishes off in style. It’s the world cup for Indian Cricket team.” The commentator screamed in sheer exhilaration.

“Indian team made us proud,” The driver said.

I smiled and murmured to myself,

“Yes they are the pride for our country then who are we?”

After few days, Government gave many laurels to the Indian cricket team but no government official came forward to award Indian kabaddi team. The biggest irony, both won the world cup.

I got up from my bed and picked up my medal, wiped off the dust and constantly gazed at it.

“Is this I deserve?” I said this to myself again.

“Value every sport and each sports person because all bring the same amount of pride for our country.”

Are You A Philanthropist?

People ask us “Are you a philanthropist?”  Joining a Non Government Organization makes us Philanthropist then we are. I wandered a lot about it, a mind boggling question popped in my head,

“Really, that makes us what people say?”

Once in a week, we teach a few backward students for less than 2 hours or feed a stray animal on the road. An egocentric thought always come in our mind like we had done something great. We tend to praise ourselves in front of everyone like we had won some medal.  The good you did that day, your egocentric praise ruined it all.

Last month, I met a guy who joined the same Non Government Organization. I gave him the rough idea what we do here. I explained about all the cultural activities we do for the children and their parents. Weak children are given special attention so that they can compete well in the school. He interrupted, 

“Don’t explain to me with such effort, I joined only for the certificate. Three months and I will be away to United States for master’s degree.” 

Are we coming here for our selfish needs? If this is the case, Please don’t come. As someone said, 

“It’s better to apply less useful people for the work than more useless people”.

Yes, we had people out there in my Non Government Organization who are devoted to serve the mankind. They carve out time from their busy schedule to shower their knowledge on the children so that they could become something in life. At least we can make them good human being and we are heading in the right direction.

I teach a student of ninth standard. His mother is a house wife and father earns by working in a small shop. I asked him generally,

“What you do after the class?”

“I revise my subjects and teach children studying in lower standards,” He replied with a satisfactory smile.

“How much do you charge them?”  I asked him.

“I teach them for free as I am inspired by you all”

“He taught me the meaning of philanthropy,” I thought and smiled.

If a child can do something for humanity without any selfish needs then why can’t we? Ask this question to yourself. We should move in the right direction as we have to primarily make those children good human beings and then ready them so that they can compete with the outer world.

Philanthropy doesn’t mean seeking selfish goals. It means a responsibility towards the humanity that we are here to help you.  It needs patience and a good heart to serve people or animals that need it. They need our support and awareness about many basic things in life. So ask yourself first,

“Are You A Philanthropist?”

Don't Bargain

On a hot summer afternoon, I was traversing a path which had houses on either side of it. The temperature was humid and leaves were not moving a bit as there was no sign of breeze in the atmosphere. The sweat was running all over the body and my navy blue shirt got completely wet. I could sense the foul smell coming from it. Vegetable sellers were chanting the names of vegetables on the road-side and some customers were bargaining with them.

“How much for this vegetable?” one of the customer asked.

“Rs 40/kg,” vendor replied.

“It is so costly. I will give you Rs 30/kg,” customer replied in a fierce voice.

I gave a sarcastic smile and moved further.

As scorching heat was not letting my sweat to stop, I started feeling thirsty. My eyes searched for the water vendor. I saw him standing on the other side of road under an umbrella to fight the sun over his head. He was wearing a torn shirt and a dull green pants offering a glass of cold drinking water for two rupees. A car stopped by and a man wearing a denim shirt and black jeans with a gold chain around his neck came out.

“Hey give me a glass of lemon water,” He said in an arrogant voice.

After drinking it altogether, he took out his wallet and gave eight bucks to him. The vendor shouted,

“Sir, it is for ten rupees” The man admonished him and went away in the car.

I could see the vendor’s face in a despondent state. I constantly gazed his car and got bewildered after watching the whole incident.

“Don’t be surprised sir, we face similar type of people every day” Vendor said with a sarcastic smile.

“They will never understand that we do not earn for luxury but for a two-time meal for the whole family. They purchase things from huge malls and never dare to bargain there” He said

I paid him the money for the water and headed back home.

“Please refrain bargaining with them. They don’t earn for luxury.”

Learning From A Son

The alarm clock danced on the table near the bed,my head buried in the pillow, I took one hand out of the blanket and banged the clock without looking at it.The humming sound of birds that sat on the snow clad branches of the stunted trees lining our street could be heard easily. The ear-splitting sound of the clock made my ten year old son to wake up. I caressed his head gently so that he could sleep a bit more. I covered him with one more blanket so that he could feel the cold to a lesser degree.

I stepped out through the wrought iron gates of the house. The streets glistened with fresh snow and the sky was a blameless blue. Snow blanketed every roof top that showed snow had nudged its way into every crack. I picked up the newspaper lying unclad on the floor near the gate. I prepared the breakfast as my wife was away for some official work. After a while, I could see my son in flannel pajamas moving out of the room rubbing his eyes in half-asleep condition. His arms around me forced my lips to play a smile.

“I want to sleep more,” He said in an adorable voice.

I laid the groundwork to get him ready for the school. He put on his school dress and I tied up his shoe-laces.He sat on the big dining table covered with a checked table cloth, spoon and knife in front of every chair placed around it. Like deserts imploring for rain, his eyes waited for the breakfast. An electric heater was placed under the table to wipe off the cold around him. I poured the searing milk in the glass, bread popped out of the toaster in the dish plate. I served the breakfast swiftly that he ate with a calm and patient look.

“Dad! The breakfast is delightful,” He complemented.

I got preoccupied in the kitchen, washed the dishes while singing a beautiful song.There was a knock at the door, my son left the breakfast and cheered with exhilaration, his finger pointing towards the door.

“He must be the garbage man!”

He sprinted towards the door to open it. I saw a man with a long torn black woolen jacket and white snow over it. A woolen cap over his head ,beard long enough to touch his stomach, a mole on his left cheek and torn apart gloves from where shivering fingers were coming out. A child behind his back was peeping with an innocent look. He came out slowly and smiled at my son, moved his hand to shake it. I grabbed and pushed him aside.

“Wait! I am bringing the garbage here only,” I said in an arrogant voice.

The boy was shivering with excruciating cold, his shoes sole was about to part away. I brought the garbage and gave them.

“Can I get a blanket for my child?”  Man’s voice full of sorrow.

“No,” I shouted in vexation.

My son rushed into the room and brought the blanket that was kept folded on the bed. He gave it to the child and shook the hand with him.

“Why?” I said with an angry look.

“Like I, he will also be feeling cold” my son answered me.

I looked at him with bewildered face and was ashamed of myself very next moment. I shut the door and told my son to consume the left breakfast on the dining table. I dropped him to school and he waved me adieu, I kissed his forehead and thought of transforming like him.

“We should think like children because they just know the language of kindness, love and compassion. So, leave the ego and help those who are in need.”

I Was Somewhere else.

The incidents I experienced latterly changed my life. There were a lot of moments to be cherished. There were unexpected happenings that made me a changed man, made me strong and rethink what world is. All incidents made me to believe that it doesn’t hurt to be nice.

I was in the metro train listening to my favorite playlist, I felt some vibration. It was an email which said,

“Selected In Infosys”

My eyes rolled multiple times on that million dollar line. It was an awesome moment as I was craving for it from a long time. I gave the news to my family which made them cheerful. I thought I had done something meaningful that day.

It was Infosys Mysore. When I passed through the Gate 2 and entered the campus. I felt

“I was somewhere else”

There were no words to explain the marvelous architecture, clean roads, Rules and Regulations, ECC rooms that were no less than a 5 star. I was feeling proud and it would be harsh if I forget that day.

Class L1-067 in GEC-2 will be remembered all my life. The people here were astounding. It was the best class ever in the whole harsh training period. I got a bunch of friends and constant visits to Tonif and GEC-3 made me to love Mysore more every day. The real happiness was about to come. The day came and I shouted

“Hey Friends, I got a niece”

I was near the bowling alley and tears were trickling down my cheeks. I hugged my friends and thanked to God for giving me the most beautiful gift ever. It was the day which made me to cry out of happiness. 

Harsh Training continued from morning to evening, glued to our system screens, studying and understanding the concepts of programming. Hands on Client and Development Square haunted us all day and night. Then we had a trip to Wayanad, scenic place filled with serene beauty which couldn’t be described in words. It was a treat to the eyes. We reached Banasura Sagar Dam where early-afternoon sun sparkled on water and dozens of miniature boats sailed, propelled by crisp breeze. It was a view; nothing could capture better than your eyes. 

I completed my generic which was the first major achievement I conquered. The day was special and we made it to GEC-3 for the success party.

Stream training was going smooth but the tough was yet to come. I got liverish and had to rush back home. Seventeen days on bed which made the training period extend up to twenty days. Many friends left Mysore and there were tears all around. I started feeling deserted. I was drowned by cake all over on my birthday. The celebrations were stunning. When I took a shower, I couldn’t find the place on my body where the cake was not present. 

I was expecting that my training would come to an end but a Re-Skill training was conducted which was scheduled for the period of one month. It was really irritating to live in a place that needs friends to cherish.

I completed my Re-Skill training and was posted to Chandigarh. The last day in Infosys Mysore, there were mixed emotions popping in my heart? I was happy to be posted but didn’t want to leave the campus where I spent six months of exhilaration, hard-work and enjoyment. Nights spent at Fiesta food court and musical fountain in-front of GEC-2. All the memories were gracious enough to grant me a nostalgic tour. I passed the gate no. 2 again but this time on the other side. I felt the same,

“I was somewhere else”