A letter to Aamu on completing 8 wonderful years.

 

30 April

Gurgaon

Hello love

This time of the year again! I have been eagerly waiting for this and so have you. Each day, for the past one month, you drove me crazy asking how many days it is still to go. Well, our wait is over, today is the day – your day! Yes, your birthday, my gorgeous!

On this day, not just you, two other people are equally excited, if not more. Well, you guessed it right. Your Maa and I. We still remember the tiny you, fluffy as a cotton candy, as I carried you home from the hospital. My heart still skips a beat thinking of the surreal moment!

Then those times, when you would implore me to chase the monsters from under your bed, they still make me smile as I think of them. Today, my heart swells with pride as I see you as a smart and confident young person who has a mind of her own and is not scared to voice her opinion when it matters.

Like each year, as I sit down to pen this letter (this is now an annual ritual which I enjoy and look forward to,) I also take the time to reflect on the year gone by.

As parents how did we fare? I am sure there are so many things we could have done but missed doing. Or stuff we did, I am sure, could have been done differently or even better. There was so much more to share with you, so many to stories to narrate. We could have smiled more often, cuddled you closer, hugged you tighter and encouraged you more. Places yet to be visited, journeys to be undertaken, dreams yet to be dreamt…

I wish, someday, there is a score card for parents too.

The year gone by has been unprecedented, it will be recorded in our history books with a special footnote – when the world literally shut down!  The corona pandemic played havoc in our lives, many of us lost a loved one. With no medicine or vaccine in sight then (thankfully the vaccine is available now,) living with the thought of contracting the deadly virus was very real and daunting.

Schools, colleges, markets, and places of worship – everything shut shop. Lockdown was announced, akin to being under house arrest. Masks and sanitizers become our constant companions. Frequent washing of hands with soap became second nature. Anything brought inside the home had to be properly sanitized including edible items.

The only saving grace was technology. It is the unifier in these troubled times. Zoom and Skype calls became the new normal. Not just office meetings, even birthday celebrations and family get togethers turned completely virtual. There were few instances when couples even got married virtually. Hope they are united now.

The pandemic has been ruthless, the worst hit were children. Parents and teachers were completely at their wits end. It took a lot of thinking on their part to figure out creative ways of engaging children at home. The children, of course, have been very supportive. Most of you did not even fully understand the import of the lockdown rules and the reason it was imposed, yet your entire brigade rose to the occasion and listened to us elders without question.

The worst is behind us now. The vaccine is out and as I write this, there are scores of us who are getting the shots. The real heroes have been the healthcare professionals and the front-line workers who risked their own lives to ensure we stayed safe. We must be eternally grateful to them. 

 The pandemic may have held the world to ransom. It tried its level best to spread fear and uncertainty in the minds of everyone. It was almost successful till it was pitted against human resilience.

Of all the things the year 2020 will be remembered for, it will be the saga of human resilience - the unique ability of humans to bounce back from an adversity. As we lift ourselves by the sheer strength of our resolve, we also extend a helping hand to others and in the process lift them too.

So many of us, during this difficult time, made ourselves available for others. Feeding the needy, caring for the destitute, lending a patient ear to the elderly, being the good Samaritan in someone’s life by donating plasma – we did all of these without worrying about our own safety or any expectation.  The doctors, nurses, paramedics, police, front line workers and volunteers caring for the covid19 patients were the finest examples of human resilience in action.

This is also the theme of my message to you on your birthday, my sweat one!

As you grow and write your own rules to navigate the world, never underestimate the power of human resilience. Cultivate it with a maniacal fervor. Then sprinkle it with oodles of compassion.

If you can do this, you are sorted for life. No highflying university degree, no royalty or blue blood and no luck will be required for you to chase your dreams.

Remember this mantra always. This is also the core of the Ubuntu philosophy – common humanity – a person is a person through other people.

Nearer home, one of our sacred Hindu text – the Maha Upanishad laid this down may centuries ago – the concept of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam – the world is but one large family.

You will read more about these as you grow older.

So princess, remember these words of your Babaa. The darkest hour of the night is always followed by sunrise. Nothing is permanent here, so let us share our talents with others and love each one equally. Let us be kind and sensitive to each other’s needs. The Earth is equally yours as it is mine.

Before I sign off, I wish to share these beautiful lines with you, I picked them up from a forwarded message that I received on social media:

I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more…

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting…
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good- bye.

 

Love, hugs, and kisses Aamu – Today on your special day - I wish you enough! Do good, be kind and in the process live your life just enough!

 

Yours

Babaa

Golu gets a new friend

Golu is a class two student in DAV School. These days she attends online classes, thanks to the pandemic.

Golu misses her class teacher and school friends very much. She meets them daily during the online class; however, she longs for the day when they will all be together again. Golu’s parents understand this, however they feel helpless as they are not able to offer much help to Golu given the current situation. 

One day Golu’s father returned from work looking quite excited. He is a scientist in DRDO, an organization which designs hi-tech products for our defense forces. Golu had gone off to bed early that day. 

He called out to his wife, “See Pushpa, I have got a new friend for Golu,’ saying this he gently placed a box on the floor.

The mother was cooking dinner, hearing her husband call her name, she came to the living room. She looked bemused and enquired, “What do you mean? A new friend, what friend have you got for her. That too in a box?”

“I have got her a pup,” the father said still sounding excited, all the while unwrapping the box.

“A pup!” Golu’s mother exclaimed. “Don’t you know I don’t like dogs, they are noisy, keep chewing things, and need to be potty trained, and I do not have the time to do all that extra work.” She said looking visibly upset.

She continued in the same breath, now sounding a bit worried, “Now, where is this pup hiding? In this box? Take it out quick or else it will suffocate.”

“Oh, come on Pushpa, don’t be so worried. This pup is not the type you are thinking.” Golu’s father replied calmly. He had unboxed the packet completely and gently took out the pup and placed it on the floor.

Golu’s mother seemed even more confused. She remarked in a tone hinging on sarcasm, “Alright, what type is it then, if I may ask?"

Then realizing that Golu's father had placed the pup on the carpet, she cried out, "Oh! God! What is the pup doing on my carpet? I hope he does not soil it, just the other day I vacuumed it and it is too much of an effort doing it all over again."

“Dear wife, you must allow me to explain, but first, please may I have a cup of tea, if you don’t mind?” saying this he headed straight to the washroom.

His tea over, Golu's father explained the mystery surrounding the pup to Golu's mother.

“What? Are you kidding me?” Golu’s mother exclaimed, her eyes almost popping out.  She was staring at the pup with a look of disbelief. The pup, in turn, was looking at her approvingly, his tail wagging.

“You mean, you brought Golu not a pup but a…did I hear you right? 

She had barely completed her sentence when Golu’s father interjected her and said, “Yes, you heard me right, this is not a pup, I mean it looks like a pup, but it is in fact a..."

"A robot...you mean a robot pup!” the mother completed her husband's sentence sounding completely bewildered. 

The pup by now was standing next to her, sniffing and licking her feet and wagging his tail to show how much he liked her.

Golu’s father continued, “We were asked to build these robots for a top-secret defense mission. Unfortunately, the mission had to be aborted and I thought it would be a great idea if I get one of these for Golu. I have seen her miss her friends dearly during this lockdown and I really wanted to help her. I am sure she will like her new friend."

The mother looked highly amused. Frowning she asked, “How do we take care of him, what does he eat, I mean, how does he work?” The pup had cozied up near her feet and she found herself gently stroking his head.

The father now assumed an air of importance as if he had been asked to give a presentation to his seniors. He began, “It is a highly programmed robot. It needs to be charged once every twenty-four hours and then it is on its own. It takes few minutes to get used to the surroundings, scans everything, picks up every possible sight, sound, scent, touch, taste and feeds it into its CPU or brain. The coding is so good, that the CPU functions like a real brain. It analyzes all the gathered inputs and in no time, starts behaving like a real pup.” By the time he had ended, he assumed his wife would be proud of him.

“Phew, this is incredible, I am sure, once Golu knows about this, she will be very happy, although I am not sure how will she react to the pup being a robot.” the mother said, and then went to the kitchen to get the dinner ready.

The next day was a Sunday. Golu woke up late. As she opened her eyes, she screamed her lungs out- "Maa!, Baba! Please come here!" 

Her mother and father came running to her room. Golu was sitting upright on her bed, her eyes were bulging out, her mouth wide open, her face had gone white - it seemed as if she had seen a ghost! The pup was sitting on one end of the bed and trying to figure if Golu's present condition was his doing. Golu's parents burst out laughing on seeing all of this.

Golu rubbed her eyes and pinched herself to make sure she was not dreaming. Slowly she came to her senses and realized everything was under control and they had a new member in their family. She became ecstatic and starting jumping with joy. The pup too joined the fun by wagging its tail and going around her in circles. She bent down to pick him up, rubbed her nose against his tiny nose and lovingly kissed him.

It did not take long for them to become best friends. They got along like a house on fire. She named him Agent KA9.

Golu does not miss her friends much these days, all thanks to Agent KA9. They are almost inseparable; the pup follows her all the time. Agent KA9 is also very sharp, it reminds Golu to drink her milk, finish her meals on time, ensures she goes to bed early and wakes up early, he even helps her with school work.

Together they play many new and exciting games. Agent KA9 is brilliant and thinks of all these games by himself. He also accompanies Golu to the park in the evenings and ensures no boy or girl dare bully her. A growl from him baring his fangs is enough to keep the brats away. 

Golu’s new friend is the talk of the town. Every child in her locality is envious of her and wants to have a pet like KA9. Although no one knows that he is a robot and not a real pup. Golu intends to keep it that way for fear of drawing undue attention on her friend.

Golu and KA9 will have many a adventures together, but that will be another day and couple of stories.

In the meanwhile, Golu has already started making plans to celebrate her birthday. She intends to invite her friends over to her place and together with Agent KA9 they will have all the fun.

Agent KA9 is also looking forward to the day and wags his tail to show how happy he is with his new friend.

And then the first few drops fell...

I am sharing below a story that i wrote during the famous lockdown times in 2020...

We are in the midst of unprecedented times. All of us are at home heeding to the lockdown rules laid by the govt. Social distancing is the need of the hour and is the only way to break the chain and stop the virus from spreading. Most of us are managing the lockdown well, but I am sure, there are few of us who would appreciate a little help in this new situation.

The other day, I was speaking to my friend’s grandfather, he nodded his head sadly and said even an ancient man like him hadn’t encountered anything of this nature in his generation.

Every cloud has a silver lining meaning however hard a situation is, there is always hope, learnings and hidden opportunities to help us rise above the occasion. To borrow another saying, “Tough situations don’t last, tough people do.”

Today, I am going to share with you a short story, which will help you understand how clinging on to hope and optimism can help us tide over these times.  I am sure you would have heard it elsewhere as it is oft quoted but for the sake of readers who haven’t, allow me to narrate it here.

Once upon a time, in a far-flung village of Bengal, there was no monsoon in a particular year. The earth became parched and dry, there were no food grains, no water and life became very difficult for the villagers.

The village elders got together one day at the chaupal (community block.) They looked at each other for advice. Now, in the village, there lived a mad man. But he was very wise, and the villagers respected him for his intelligence. They never bothered him, giving him food, water and little space to live. Fearing the worst, and left with no other option, the elders now turned to him for his advice. The mad man took the sarpanch aside and whispered something in his ear. The villagers could then see him disappear into a nearby grove.

The sarpanch returned and asked each villager to gather the next day at the village school sharp at 10:00 AM. But there will be one condition he said, and strictly asked the villagers to abide by it. They had to come next day with any article they considered auspicious. It could be a deity, a family photograph, or a prized heirloom - any object they considered a talisman. Then, the entire village would pray together and beseech the gods to give them rain. This was the last option, he sarpanch said.

The next day, as instructed, each villager with their family in tow, started pouring into the school ground.  In each hand there was an article they considered pure. Slowly the entire village had congregated. The sarpanch nodded to the village priest to start the proceedings. Amidst the recitals of mantras, a huge fire was lighted. A havan and puja was to begin.

The loud recital of the mantras rants the air. The heady mix of incense and other stuff being offered into the havan fire started smoking up. Kids started wailing as their eyes started hurting.

And, then it happened. Nobody could believe when the first few drops fell. They looked up; the gods seemed to have heard at last. A shout of joy rang though. When it started pouring everyone started dancing. Each villager - men, women and children raised the talisman they were carrying above their heads and went crazy. The magic seemed to have worked!

Now, in the midst of all this, there stood a man with his son perched on his shoulder. When everyone was asked to bring an article of faith, something that they thought will help them in praying for rains, the little boy brought an umbrella, for he didn’t hope it would rain, he knew it would! And, it did!

Let us all be like the little boy, carrying our umbrellas around. Let us believe in the good times. Let us believe that ‘this too shall pass.” Let us all utilize this time in gratitude, counting our blessings, spending time with our families, keeping our mind and body alert. Let us catch up on our reading, speaking to forgotten contacts, cooking up a delicacy, looking after our grandparents, writing poetry, fighting with our siblings…I mean there is so much to be done, so less time.

Remember you are a reservoir of positive energy; all you have to do is dig into it and spread it around for others!

Hope you liked today’s story, do write in with your comments or feedback.

Looking forward to your thoughts and suggestions.

Golpo for Amolika series : The Story of Cinderella (with a twist!)

Once upon a time there lived a girl named Ella.

Her mother died when she was a child. The father had to be away for work, so he sent Ella to his sister’s place.

The sister or Aunt Molly was not good to Ella at all. She made her do all the household work – washing, cleaning, scrubbing, cooking, fetching water and even chopping firewood. Poor Ella worked hard all day long. She was not even allowed to go to school.

The hard work made Ella look shabby all the time. Her hands were rough, her hair matted, her clothes torn, and there was ash (from the cooking she did) all over her.

Aunt Molly had a daughter named Eureka. The mother and daughter made fun of Ella and laughed at her condition. They even called her Cinderella, cinder meaning ash, as Ella was always covered with ash and soot from the kitchen work.

Ella was a strong girl; she did not pay much attention to all these taunts. After work, when her aunt and sister retired to bed, she would stay awake and study by the kitchen lamp. She had managed to hide few books her father had given her. If Aunt Molly got to know, she would surely tear them.

Ella knew she would not stay in this house for ever. She was just waiting for an opportunity!

And it came soon!

The king was getting old and he wished the Prince to marry soon and ascend the throne. To find a suitable bride for the prince, the king decided to host a royal party and invited all the young girls of his kingdom. His idea was that the prince could choose a suitable wife, the future queen, for himself.

When the news reached Ella, she was very happy. She wanted to attend the royal party to dance and enjoy. She had never gone out anywhere and this was one such opportunity. She knew that the prince would not choose a common and ordinary girl like her, hence she was not too worried about any party makeup or dress.

When Aunt Molly came to know of Ella’s plan, she started screaming.  

“Are you out of your mind, no one will allow such a dirty and filthy girl as yourself in the royal palace. You will stay home and finish all the work; I will take Eureka there. Is that clear?”

This made Ella sad! 

Yet, she did not lose hope. Something in her told that she would surely meet the prince that evening.

Ella was busy washing utensils when she felt a cool and fragrant breeze blowing about. She felt the presence of a kindly light in the kitchen. She heard a tinkling sound and a soft laughter from near her.

She thought she must be dreaming and rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, she was startled to see a fairy standing next to her. The fairy smiled and gently caressing her said, “Don’t worry Ella, you shall surely attend the royal party. Now close your eyes for a minute please.”

Ella did as she was asked. When she opened them, she found she was wearing the most beautiful silken gown, a colorful tiara studded with diamonds was nestled on her head, and on her feet were silver shoes.

Ella thought she must be dreaming again. The fairy gently scolded her, “Ella, you must hurry up in case you wish to meet the prince. A carriage is waiting outside to take you to the palace. Please have fun.”

Ella thanked the fairy and was about to leave when the fairy stopped her.  She said, “Wait a minute Ella. I am sure you will have a great time at the party, however, remember this magic spell will wear off by 12:00AM. Please come back before that, after 12:00AM you will become the original Ella.”

Ella nodded in agreement and hurried to the waiting carriage.

As she reached the palace gates, the guards thought she was a princess from another kingdom. When she went in, everyone stared at her in surprise. No one looked as elegant as Ella that evening.

When the prince saw her, he immediately wanted to dance with her. Ella had a great time. She enjoyed as never before. She sang and danced, had good food and made many friends.

Dong, dong, dong, dong…

What was that?

Suddenly Ella remembered.

Good Lord!

The royal clock was striking twelve!

In all the joy of the evening Ella had completely forgotten about the magic spell and what the fairy had told her.

What should she do now?

She dropped whatever she was doing and bolted for the door. She had to reach the carriage somehow before the clock struck full twelve.

She muttered to herself, “Hurry up Ella, hurry up, else it will be too late.”

It was too late by then! 

The clock had struck full twelve.

The magic spell ended, and Ella froze.

She was her original self – shabby, messy hair, torn clothes and ash all over her body!

The prince’s jaw fell open!

The musicians stopped playing!

In the entire hall there was pin drop silence!

Everyone stared at Ella in disbelief!

Then someone started screaming.

It was Aunt Molly.  “Ella, how dare you come here, I had asked you not to. Have you finished all the household chores? Wait till you return home, and I shall show you your rightful place.”

Eureka felt ashamed and started sobbing.

By now, the other girls had formed a circle around Ella.

Shame! Shame! Shame!

They mocked her and made fun of her.

Ella stood still; her head held high.

She was not embarrassed of her condition.

She rather looked proud.

Finally, the prince spoke.

“Silence everyone! Not a word anymore. If I see or hear anyone making fun of Ella, I shall get the person arrested.”

He then turned to Ella and offered her a seat. He asked the royal servants to get her a glass of water.  Once Ella was comfortable, he gently asked her to tell him her complete story.

Ella told him everything…

How Aunty Molly made her work and not let her study…

How Eureka made fun of her…

How eager she was to attend the royal party…

How the fairy helped her…

At last, she told the prince about the magic spell.

The prince listened to Ella in rapt attention. After she had narrated her story, he realized how brave Ella is.

“Ella, tell me how I can help you?” he asked. “If you wish, I can get your aunt and sister imprisoned for the way they have treated you,” he added.

Ella knew this was the chance she had been waiting for long.

She smiled at the prince and said, “Thank you Sir, I do not wish my aunt and sister to go to jail, I forgive them.”

She further added, “I want to study further. I want to become a doctor so that I can help the poor and the needy.”

The prince was very happy and really felt proud that someone so brave lived in his kingdom. He ensured everything Ella wished for.

Today Dr. Ella is the royal physician. She nursed the old king back to life when he fell very sick.

She is loved and admired by all for being kind and courageous.

She is a role model for all young girls in the kingdom.

The fairy’s magic had finally cast its spell.

Remembering Baba on my birthday…

 

“21^st August, my birthday and for the first time in my life, this birthday would be different than the ones which have preceded it... Baba, you are not going to be around this time…at least in your physical form…

Today morning upon waking up, I felt a warm haze embracing me, I could feel your benign presence Baba. I received your blessings and instantly knew today would be very special!

Baba, I remember you today more than on any other day, after all, I am here because of you and Maa.”

Baba left us to be at the lotus feet of Krsna on 3^rd Nov. 2019

The day was a Sunday, I had just got up after having my lunch. Sundays are generally laid-back, it was 03:45PM when my brother broke the news, Baba had breathed his last at around 03:40PM

During his last days, Baba was with my brother’s family in Meerut.  I, my wife and our seven-year-old daughter stay in Gurgaon.

A world without Baba hasn’t sunk in yet, and I am sure it never will. My only solace is that he is no longer in pain and finally found peace at the feet of the Lord.

Baba suffered for almost two and a half years, a debilitating brain stroke pushed him to a vegetable state, unable to fend for himself, even basic human functions were a struggle for him.

The downward slide started with a slurred speech, dimmed vision, loss of hand eye coordination and finally he could not move at all. For a child, to see his parent so helpless can be excruciatingly painful.

The worst of all was his inability to recognize us, for almost two years he never spoke to us or even smiled at us.

The family could never come to terms with his condition. A man who walked all his life (he did not know how to ride a two-wheeler or a four wheeler) would one day have to depend on others for survival!

Born in Bangladesh (then pre-partitioned India) in a landlord family, he had a simple upbringing. After completing his matriculation studies from East Pakistan board (as a result of partition during India’s independence, the area of today’s Bangladesh was called East Pakistan) he came to India lock, stock and barrel.

Coming to India was less of choice and more because of religious persecution. During India’s independence from the British and subsequent partition, there was a mass exodus of Hindus from Pakistan (both East and West.)

Partition is and will always be an open wound for my generation. Imagine, one fine day you wake up to find you are homeless, that is if you are lucky to have woken up. Most did not, having been either killed in their sleep or burnt to death as their houses were set ablaze. The land upon which generations of your kith and kin had tread, suddenly became alien, childhood friends who swore by you, now became your sworn enemy.

A refugee is always an unwelcome guest…the new land does adopt you eventually, but there is always a searing pain in some dark recesses of your heart, an unfulfilled longing of the soul…a dream that one day you will return to your motherland to kneel down to kiss the soil and pick up some to rub it on your forehead.

Alas, for Baba that was never to be!

My earliest memory of Baba is of him holding my hand and walking me to school, this was in Ghaziabad. Baba had signed up for a better opportunity and we had recently moved from Calcutta (now Kolkata.)

From there, Agra beckoned us. I was then seeking admission to class IV. Baba sought me admission in one of the upcoming schools, today it is a name to reckon with in the field of education.

The new Principal on hearing my name exclaimed “Ah ah! Chakraborty…a Bengali, they are supposed to be intelligent, hope you will live up to this expectation.”

Baba smiled and said, ‘Yes, Ma’m he will,” although I was not quite sure if I was the right choice to carry this burden (Today, as I look back on my career, I have not done that bad either!)

Baba did not study after class X, earning his livelihood and settling down in a new land took priority. What he lacked in formal schooling, he made up for being a lifelong student in the great school called ‘life.’

Yet he ensured both I and my brother receive the best of formal schooling and a university degree.

This, of course, meant huge sacrifices from both our parents. I still remember days, when there would be practically nothing to eat…and, there were many such days…

Baba’s work never paid him well, and whatever he earned, most of it was kept aside for our education, the remaining was gobbled by rent, bills, medical bills etc.

When we were growing up, we never took a vacation, very rarely did we go out for movies or a family dinner. Maa only had two formal sarees in her wardrobe and Baba would wear out his shoes long after the shoes themselves gave up!

Yet Baba soldiered on, he always believed that education would surely be the passport to a great future for all of us.

After Baba left us, the first few months were more trying to understand our physical world without him. Honestly, I never really gave thought to the essence of the man, the living conscious being part of existence for eighty-two years.

Now, whenever I am alone or can manage a few moments for myself, I think about him a lot… more than the physical, the spiritual aspect of him.

And, I am sure, he is always with us…

Yet one thought keeps coming back to me – what did Baba bequeath unto us? What is his legacy?

And, very important, are we worthy successors to him?

Well, tough questions and the more I think, the more I am sure of one thing – he may have lived a frugal life, a life full of trial and tribulations, yet never once did he trade his integrity, never once did a harsh word escape his lips or an unkind gesture hurt anyone!

Never once did he betray his family’s trust, never once did he give us an opportunity to feel sorry that he was our Baba!

If this is not true legacy, what is?

“Baba, we know, you are watching us from above, and we know you are proud that we are steadfast on the path you have illumined before us by living a virtuous life.

Baba, this I can promise, that until the last breath I take, I shall always follow your footsteps, make good on your teachings and never give you an opportunity to feel sorry that I am your son!

Until we meet again! Hugs and kisses!

Aamu’s 7th birthday and Golpo, a good story.

Dear Aamu

Truth be told, we are quite surprised at how fast time goes by. Always on the gallop. Just the other day (and it seems like yesterday) on your sixth birthday, both I and your Maa were going crazy over your ever-growing friend list, you wanted to invite your entire class to the birthday party!

And, today you have completed seven years! It all seems like a Ripley’s believe it or not.

I cannot help but become full of wonderment thinking of you, my daughter. Since morning, I must have stolen a hundred glances at you. As you preened and pirouetted like a danseuse in front of the mirror, your new dress sashaying (you had chosen a long frilly skirt to wear today,) a father’s heart swelled with pride.

Then you turned and flashed your million-dollar toothless smile (only today morning you lost your second tooth) my knees felt a little wobbly, the heart missed a beat!

The past year has been eventful, I would say, even tough for a child your age.  As a family we have weathered much. Yet, I marvel at your calm demeanor and the way you have handled so much craze all around. I would have surely become a bundle of nerves, if I had to endure the same when I was your age.

School life too, I am sure, comes with its own challenges for a seven-year-old. When I see you engaging with your classmates – a loving pat on someone’s back, a stern look at the other, a little nudge here and a wink there – I feel confident, that you are growing up with a wise head on your shoulders. Your teachers speak highly of you and it is like sweet music to a parent’s ear.

With all the boldness that you display, there are times when you are a little mushy all over. Well, all seven-year old girls should be, isn’t it? Then, do remember a father’s advice, to borrow a quote from Ella Wheeler - “Laugh and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone.” The import of this might not come today, but if you follow this closely, it will hold you in good stead always.

The past year, you have added to your repertoire of new skills besides dancing – storytelling being a major one. Your YouTube channel – Golpo by Amolika has been accepted well, as your inimitable style of narrating tales. I am sure, if you pursue this art, you will become a good storyteller.

Remember, stories are Nature’s way of speaking to us. Look around and you will find a story. The pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, the gentle pitter-patter of rain falling, the gurgle and chortle of a river. A lion’s deafening roar, the cry of a mother cow for its lost calf.

The flutter of a butterfly’s wing, a spider spinning a web, the first rays of the sun, the magic of a golden sunset – exciting stories begging to be discovered and told.

Nature’s stories are full of wonder and amazement, but strangely only a child is filled with it. Maybe that is why they say – childlike wonder!  I wish you many such wonderful story mornings, afternoons and nights.

Then there are stories of human affairs – happy stories, sad stories, stories of loving and losing, stories of hope and stories of resilience. Of all these, there is one story I want you to believe in always – the story of the resilience of the human spirit!

As you grow in years, there will be times when you will find yourself at crossroads. Many roads will stare at you, friendly advises will be hurled at you. You will want to turn back to look for our support, and finding us not there, become unsure.

Remember, there is a story in the making. Here is your chance to create the story of a lifetime. Go ahead and craft the most blockbuster of all stories. Choose the right words, pack in the powerful punchlines, and when done, narrate your story with aplomb.

Never underestimate the power of human resilience, never underestimate the power of a good story.

Today, on your seventh birthday, may you be blessed to uplift others with your stories, giving hope to bruised hearts, solace to weary minds and balm for tired eyes.

To quote Maya Angelou, an American poet, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you”

Go head, tell yours! We may not be there in the audience, but we will surely be listening, I can promise you that. We will be listening in rapt attention, and I am sure, you will make us super proud!

Love

Baba with Maa

P.S. Golpo is a Bangla word for story.

Titli

It was almost 05:00 AM, Khoka strained his eyes to look at his wristwatch. In another few minutes he would arrive at his destination.

The shrill cry of the porters and tea-sellers meant it was the station Kathgodham. Generally, Khoka travelled light, however this time he was carrying two suitcases, the extra one was for a dear friend whom he was visiting in Ranikhet.

From Kathgodam, Khoka hired a taxi. An hour and a half later, he reached the hotel where he had booked his stay in Ranikhet.

Khoka was excited. And a little nervous too! How does she look now? He vividly remembered the twinkle in her eyes and her dimpled cheeks. Has her hair grown long enough to touch her shoulders? What about her missing teeth? Her impish smile. Has she finally picked up the alphabet? Could she speak Hindi fluently? Does she still need to be rocked before sleeping? Will she recognize him?

Khoka’s mind was a whirlpool - thoughts, questions, emotions - all going around in no serious order. He gulped down the tea and finished a light breakfast of toast and eggs. The next minute he found himself in a tuk-tuk (auto-rickshaw) chugging along the cobbled road that would finally take him to her.

This was Khoka’s second visit to Ranikhet. The previous one, about a year and half back, was more keeping his academic interests in mind. He was working on a research paper as part of his M.Phil submission. Field visits were a regular feature to collect data for his study. He had met Titli during one such visit.  

She was all of four then. Wiry and frail looking for her age, Titli had the most beautiful smile. And a very sharp mind too! During their first meeting, Khoka requested her to recite any  poem. She chose – “Johnny Johnny Yes Papa.” Blushing, and with frequent nods of her head that made her hair fall over her face (she had to pause to push them back) she recited the poem in grand style.  Titli…, Titli…, Titli…-the audience boisterously encouraged her with cheers and applause.

Khoka took out his pocket camera and asked if he could click a picture, Titli suddenly became conscious. Preening herself, she pirouetted like a ballerina, held the helm of her skirt, tilted her head sideways, and exhibiting a toothless grin posed for the camera. She has all the airs of a star in the making, Khoka thought lovingly.

Titli stayed in an orphanage for HIV children along with her foster parents. She did not go to school as no school was willing to admit her. Her parents taught her at home.

Being a shy child, she would take time to warm up to a stranger. Yet, for some unknown reason, she and Khoka got along like a house on fire. She would call him Kaku and would look forward to his daily visits. While together, Khoka would read her stories as she made monkey faces imitating him. She loved playing hide and seek, and one of her favorite hideouts was the space under her bed. Crouching underneath, she would call out to Khoka, daring him to find her. Khoka would put up a big drama of trying to look for her here and there, all the while calling out her name and not finding her. Then he would slowly tiptoe to the bed, bend down to look under and cry out loudly - ‘I Spy, I Spy.’ She would lay perfectly still without making the slightest noise, refusing to come out. She would relent only when Khoka flashed a torch on her face and implored her to come out.

For few months, after returning from Ranikhet, Khoka had exchanged correspondence with Titli’s parents. However, his work and other pursuits kept him busy and slowly the connection broke. Then, a few days back, a sudden letter opened the flood gates of memories. The letter solicited his immediate presence at Titli’s house, the parents had requested. The letter only said this much.  

A pleasant smile played on Khoka’s lips remembering his little friend. Suddenly a rude jolt shook him. He looked enquiringly at the driver. His glance was returned rather sheepishly, the driver pleaded guilty of rash driving. He had driven the tuk-tuk into a roadside pit. Khoka had to look for another vehicle. When he did find one, he requested the driver to be careful.

Realizing the doorbell was not functional, Khoka knocked softly. A little later, a middle-aged man, Titli’s father, appeared at the door. He greeted Khoka and invited him in. Please be seated, while I get you a cup of tea, saying the father went inside. Khoka kept the suitcase he had brought with him and sat down on the sofa. His eyes were searching for Titli.

The father came back carrying a plate of sweets and a glass of water. His wife followed him shortly. Titli was nowhere to be seen. Khokha could sense an uneasiness in the air, and he did not like it a bit. Please call Titli, I would like to meet her he asked, unable to restrain himself any longer.

The wife was the first to break down. Our daughter was a warrior she said, however, her frail body could not take it any longer, In Titli’s own words, she had now found a place among the stars, shining brightly to show the path to lost travelers.

She has left this for you, the father said, handing a little red heart shaped box to Khoka. She would wait anxiously for you each day and was certain you would come. In case you came, and were not able to meet her, this box would be her parting gift. She made me promise that you will be the first one to open this.

With trembling hands Khoka opened the box. In it were cowrie shells, a twisted iron key, a torn one-legged doll, a small mirror, used lipstick, broken comb, hair clips, and a box of crayons he had gifted her. Beneath all these, he found a letter, rolled and tied with a red ribbon. On it was scribbled – ‘FOR YOU.’ As he untied the ribbon, Khoka had to fight back tears to read the complete message - ‘Kaku, wen w i l l YOU co me, I mis yo u a lot.’  (‘Kaku, when will you come, I miss you a lot.’)

Back in the train, Khoka sat clutching the box close to his heart. He thought about the name ‘Titli.’ In Hindi it means a butterfly. Interestingly, a butterfly lives only four days on an average. Such less time, yet she is never in a hurry to go about life. Savoring each moment, without a worry chasing her, she dances, flutters and moves blithely from one flower to another. The myriad hues and splashes of bright colors that she paints the world with is a source of unbridled joy and inspiration to millions.

Clutching the box even tighter, Khoka smiled remembering his friend Titli. In her short sojourn, she touched and inspired so many lives. 

Khoka felt blessed to have known her.