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    Life's too short to leave the important words unsaid!! consider things left unsaid and my thoughts unexpressed that may be valuable to u...& I promise you will have precious time !!!

    Sunday, 14 May 2017

    The death knell

    weekend writing promptLife is full of uncertainties. Each day holds a surprise but whether it comes to us as sorrow or joy is unbeknownst to us. On reading the above lines, I could recollect an article which I read somewhere in a magazine or what else I couldn’t call up now. Let me narrate it in my own way for you!

    As she lounged on the couch with a salad bowl that contained finger fries, she began flipping through the channels. Eventually, she stretched out a bit and before she could recognize the fatigue, she fell asleep. Her husband wouldn’t be home at least for another five hours and the empty house resounded with her soft shallow breathing.

    As the squeaking sound of the teak wood rocking chair roused her from her kip, she perceived something wrong and got up from the sofa with a little nervousness, like it is an experience of fear that summons ghosts to us, because it was from the room which was unengaged since a year. When she turned the key and stepped in she was dumbfounded as she saw her father sitting across the room in that teak wood rocking chair. 

    As the surprise ended, she was happy that she met her father after years since she eloped. She called a spade a spade and spent cherishing minutes with her father that she didn’t notice the incessant rain outside, nor the bowl hovering on the floor amidst those scattered finger fries, nor the clanging sound of the pendulum clock. All she noticed was her father’s face which was riantly handsome than ever. Together, they put their cards on the table, and spoke openly about what they ventured in all those days they were apart. Between the conversations of her childhood and his advice for her future, she realized how much she missed him. Although they spoke for hours, it still didn’t seem enough for them. She felt as if she could sit with him forever holding his palm and all that mattered to her at that point of time was him. Only him.
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    She was taken back by her senses, when she heard the ring-back. As she picked the receiver, she realized something and gasped! It was indeed the death knell.
    “Come back India soon. His body will be taken to the Ghats of the Ganges tomorrow.”
    The receiver fell on the floor with a soft thud and the empty teak wood chair continued rocking. 

    This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

    With smiles...
    (Investing myself completely in the art of living)

    Saturday, 22 April 2017

    Alma mater memory #1

                     "The story of my half relationship"

    We were in eighth grade.

    My Tamil teacher came into the class. The chairs were usually arranged like in an amphitheatre. Every day, before the class commenced, he used to sign our handwriting notes for a perceptible indication that we did not, would not and could not change the date and show the same next day or anything like that to skip those two pages of misery.

    In the next few minutes, the blackboard proclaimed, ”Thirukural” in bold letters. I sat neither in the first bench nor at the back, but somewhere in the mid of that serpentine arrangement in the left corner & I recollect seriously narrating the Harry Potter & the Order of Phoenix to my bestie, rather excited at that too. While the whole class went silent all of a sudden, my laugh amidst that silence seemed as hysterical as a hyena. I was immediately apprehended by my teacher as if I had done a criminal offence & I had some questions thrown at me.

    I threw the right answers back at him, but you know school teachers! So then he directed me to the corner of that same serpentine row & that’s when we met. Our acquaintance began to influence each other’s life. 

    He was in my class since I joined there, but we had never spoken. I just knew him sporadically, a guy with black hair, incandescent from three to four tablespoons of coconut oil, wearing specs halfway down the nose probably and possibly confusing the speaker if he was looking through the glass or not. A thread ran around his neck with a pendant carved to resemble some Hindu deity, and one black & another orange coloured thread tied in the right wrist, the ID card, hanging near his tummy, unlaced shoes with white chalk dust as a superficial layer. I just couldn’t bear that unaccustomed silence & deliberately broke it by asking that guy, who had been writing sincerely since the class began,

    “So, you take notes?"

    He grinned.

    I had no choice other than to wait for his reply.

    He then showed me the page and apparently he had been doodling since the class started.

    I sniggered and he shrugged.         

    Mischievousness was an understatement when it came to us. Our thoughts Coalesced and that drove our relationship much smoother than anyone can imagine. He was equally talented but never cared much to write his home works or spend few hours for studying. 
    As it happens, every mediocre student(on grade basis which I‘ve never been a fan of)was allotted to one who regularly does home works & I happened to be the one pointed to him by Mrs.Ramadevi, my class teacher.

    I don’t know what worked, I couldn’t put my finger on it till now, but he fetched his first Ivory card that year. It was really a memory worth remembering for us, that even today he ironically replies, “Yes ma’am”, when I advise him regarding studies.

    We were not that formal friends either to exchange positive affection all the time. We fought very bad, pinched each other, tore each other’s notebooks, threw things or played cricket with each other’s things, sometimes hid things so that the other will have to go through a lot of trouble to get that back.

    We made many great memories together on which I could literally write a book. I suppose that idiot would kill me after that, but I don’t really care.

    In fact, I never believed in a boy-girl friendship until we happened. According to me, a boy who never had a chance to become a boyfriend would still remain as her bestie meant, he owned good traits with unconditional love. A girl will not bring herself close to a boy unless she knows the guy in and out. At least I, most certainly will not.

    He has an elder brother and I have a younger sister. And we have always felt blessed to have a sibling on opposite extremes like us to enjoy all the fights and cherish the special love we have on each other. We were not just friends but, neither were nor will be committed because both had a different focus at each stage of our lives.

    And I am damn sure that one will have to die and come back to understand what relation we possess in this world, where everything is conditional including love.

    This post, I dedicate it heartily to his future wife and my future husband. 

    I am sharing a half relationship story at BlogAdda in association with #HalfGirlfriend

    For those wondering, we got certified in ivory coloured cards, if we got 90+ in all subjects.

    With smiles...
    (Investing myself completely in the art of living)

    Note: This blog post has won the title and gifts of the contest #HalfGirlfriend conducted by  BlogAdda and the detailed information is available on the Acknowledgement page of my blog. 
    Click here to see winners in the page of bloggadda.

    Image result for blogadda halfgirlfriend contest winner badge

    Friday, 21 April 2017

    Mastering the habits

    Everything that comes into our life should either stay with us and become our strength, or it should leave us and make us free. It should never stay with us and become our weakness.
    Haven’t we heard about Ivan Pavlov’s effect?
    Pavlov used to ring a metronome at the same time he fed his dogs. After a while, the dogs which earlier salivated only when they saw and ate their food would now begin to salivate only when the metronome sounded, even if no food were present. Can a man suffer like Pavlov’s dogs? But in reality, that’s what habits are!
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    "If I don’t smoke I can’t do potty; without something to read, I can’t sit on the pot; If I miss any morning tea I will develop a headache; if I don’t have a banana in the night I can’t sleep; when I am tensed I need a drink; no matter what happens I will run home to watch my favourite mega serial, else hell will break lose…"
     Ring the bell &  I will salivate is what we mean by all these!   
    When something affects us when we don’t get it, it means that it has gained mastery over us. What has gained mastery over us, has gained the mastery over our peace.  The number of external masters, the less peaceful we can be.

     If the newspaper is delayed, it disturbs our peace. If the coffee is not to your specification, it disturbs our peace. When we can’t go to the temple, it affects our peace. Even going to places of worship have become conditioned mechanical response- a habit.
    The proof of right living is in the peace that we experience.  Willpower is developed through won’t power. When we find ourself being mastered by our habits which destroy our peace, we should practice the” won’t power”. For one week we should abstain from that which disturbed us. Then, again we have to get back and determine who is going to be mastery over whom, whether your habits on you or you on habits.
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    Ask the question, “who is the master? “
    The number of times, the answer is something or someone outside of you, means you are not having a very peaceful existence. The number of times you feel you are the master, then you are experiencing the all-encompassing peace. Once after realising this fact, I started to take everything and everyone as my choice, and not as my addiction. And at the same time, I started to ask each of my dear ones to allow me to be their strength and not a weakness.
    To be succinct....

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    Habits are mental phonograph records. Repeated indulgence of anything creates a mental blueprint. Whenever one puts a needle of attention on the grooves formed in the mind, it plays back the blueprint. Repetition causes the grooves to deepen and after a while, the record is played automatically over and over again. The mental make-up, the patterns called habit becomes hard set, making it difficult to change. Thus, we become slaves to our habits and lose our freedom, self-discipline and control. 

    Either you run your life or your habits run your life, who is the master and who is the slave?
    Let's get our perceptions right!

    With smiles...
    (Investing myself completely in the art of living)

    Wednesday, 19 April 2017

    What truly matters?

    Unremarkably, I’m not that busy as a beaver to be always updating my events on Facebook or tweeting it. But, since a month my works are in need to be prioritized as I was to intervene continuous assessments, model exams, practical examinations etc., from my mandatory curricular activities and so many contests and projects as a blogger and an Indiwriter as well. But, the fact is neither I concentrated on these nor I did a blog post since a month, due to the absence of that kinda “peace of mind”.     

    I was dull as dishwater and restless since a week and the most upsetting thing was that neither mom nor dad queried me for what made me like this. Yesterday during suppertime, while I was doodling in the sambhar with my spoon, it was decanted on my hands and I just rubbed it off immediately and muttered,” It all happens to me alone”.

    My father shrugged and said, “yeah, it all happens”, and my mother glared at me. Quite after a while, they continued to eat & I murmured again, “Afterall who cares? it all happens to me alone”.

    Whoops! No reaction.

    I continued, “I don’t know why bad things happen to good people alone”
    Pah….I felt that nanoseconds which my VLSI sir explained me for that electron-hole movement in semiconductor devices. I don’t know whether my mom ignores to accept that something bad has happened to me or couldn't digest me addressing myself belonging to good people, she immediately spoke out with the same glare,
    “When the question itself is wrong, how do you expect me to answer?.  The question should have been, “What happens to good people when bad things happen to them”, & the reply is, they become better people”, she said.

    Thank god! I was provided with a secure reputation that I’m a good person.
    She continued.
    “It is not our intelligence, but it is the direction of our intelligence that determines the pace of our progress. And our intelligence can be directed, if only we know, how to ask the right questions. Ask,”Why me?” for all your troubles and listen to the response of your intelligence. Ask,  "Why me?",for all your countless blessings and again listen to the voice of your intelligence. Experience the difference. Experience the power of questions. Questions have great power & one right question asked at the right time can change the direction of our intelligence, and thus change the direction of your life.

    But when you ask, “Why this is happening to me alone ?”, it sets your intelligence in one direction, which will lead you to self-pity, while in the same scenario ask, “What can I learn from this?” and this will direct you to a higher maturity. It puts you in a more resourceful and responsible position.

    If you are feeling stagnant, if you are not growing at the pace at which you can grow, if you are going in the direction that will not lead you to your goals, if you are encountering issues that are repetitive in nature, then be sure, you are not asking the right questions and thus not directing your intelligence right.

    Simple questions like, “What next?”, “ How can I do what I am already doing even better “, “What is the worst that can possibly happen” can completely change the way you perceive your life. Our intelligence has an inherent compulsion to answer any question that is posed to it, either by you or by the world. So, choose your questions and direct your intelligence in constructive ways.
     One man asked,” Why is the apple falling down?” and the world has not been the same since ever. So it doesn’t matter if you don’t have all the answers. What truly matters is, do you have the right questions?"

    And my father added, “When your leg is broken, we can only support you holding your hands”

    The wholesome advice indeed fetched me clarity of thought to get rid of my problems. Sometimes spending time with loved ones gives us ways to get rid of difficulties,  even when we don’t  exactly talk on what we encountered.

    With smiles...
    (Investing myself completely in the art of living)