Thursday, April 7, 2016

Wings of Creativity

This was narrarated to me by one of my friends. This is a simple incident but quite interesting. I would narrate it exactly my Friend from Chennai had narrated it to me.

A year of the proud school in Chennai where all felt admission is impossible!!!

To get LKG admission for my friend's daughter I ( 'I' here refers to my friend from Chennai) too went there. For that admission my friend had studied a lot than his daughter

The child could not understand why they have brought her there. Principal of the school is like "kadalora kavithai Jenifer" (one of the filmy characters). When I smiled at her, she turned & that moment my friend realized there is no benefit by my presence .

When we all were standing, the school principal started to converse with the child....yes in English only. This is one of the most memorable interview I have ever witnessed in my life..

"What's your name?"


"Good. Tell me something you know"

"I know many things. Tell me what you want"

Alas, there is no better point for not getting the admission. .Sarithra's mother was trying to make up the situation but Jenifer stopped..

Turning to child,Jenifer said.. "Tell any rhymes or story which you know"

Again,"Which one you want Rhymes or Story?"

Well done, second wicket too gone. Jenifer was little bit angry about the reply

"Ok. .tell me a story"

"You want to hear what I studied or what I wrote"

Taken to surprise, Jenifer asked "Oh you write stories???"

"Why should I not write?"

Now even I was taken aback and whispered to my friend "our whole generation is not going to get admission in this school."

But Jenefier was impressed with the answer. She & including us, would have not heard such a story in our life.

Ok, tell me story which you have written

Sarithra said "Ravanan kidnapped Sita to Srilanka"

Opening scene failed to impress Jenifer but still she encouraged the child to continue

"Rama asked Hanumanรขs help to rescue Sita. Hanuman too agreed to help Rama "


"Now, Hanuman called his friend Spider man." No one expected this twist in the story


"Because there are lot of mountains between India and Srilanka..if we have Spiderman we can go easily with his rope."

"But Hanuman can fly isn't it??"

"Yes. But he is having Sanjeevi Mountain on one hand so he cannot fly very fast. "

(I remember Hanuman's picture in ABT parcel service)

Now Jenifer is quiet, after a while Sarithra asked "Should I continue or not?.".

"Ok ok then."

"Hanuman and Spiderman flew to Srilanka and rescued Sita. Sita said Thanks to both"


"When you are helped you should say Thanks"

"Ok Ok then."

"Hanuman now called Hulk."

All were surprised.She realized our curiosity and said " Now Sita is there, so to take her safely back to Rama..he called Hulk"

"What logic???" Jenifer asked.

"Hanuman can carry Sita right?"

"Yes. But he has Sanjeevi Mountain in one hand and has to hold spider man on the other"

Jenifier could not control her smiles. " So when they all started to India they met my friend Akshay"

"How come Akshay there now?"

"Because its my story and I can bring any one there"

Now Jenifer didn't get angry but waited for the next twist

Then all started to India and landed at Chennai Velechery bus stop

Now I asked,"Why they have landed In Velechery bus stop? "

"Because they forgot the way..& Hulk got an idea and called Dora"

I came to know about Dora only there.

"Dora came and she took Sita to Velechery Venus Colony...that's all." Finished the story with a smile

Now Jenifer asked "Why venus Colony?"

"Because sita is there & am Sita!!!"

Jenifer was impressed and embraced the child.
Really, kids can really amaze. Sometimes, we clip their wings by expecting them to do things as we see it right.

Realising the Reality

I visited The Dine-In, a posh restaurant , this weekend.

No, this story  is not a restaurant review about the dry biryani or hot lassi.

It is not about the Rajasthani style painting that adorned the deep dark wooden panels or about the silly waiters dressed like nervous fresh MBA grads from an obscure college, with white shirts and uncomfortable ties.

It is about Shamsuddin.
The little boy who poured water into my glass and cleared out my table.
He walked around nervously with a heavy jug of water, wearing the same black trousers and white shirt, no tie. His eyes darted across the room like a scared rabbit, scanning the place for empty tumblers that needed a refill.  He was hardly four and a half feet tall, not a trace of facial hair. He couldn’t have been a day older than 12. He caught me staring at him and looked back, wondering whether to smile, or look away. And then, with those wide innocent eyes filled with confusion, he gave me a slow, hesitant smile.

Something tugged my heart strings and soon enough the dryness of the biryani or the callousness of the waiter who whisked away my rejected hot lassi was not the problem anymore.

There was this child here pouring water and removing used plates from tables when he should have been kicking around a football on that cold Saturday afternoon. He was trying to satisfy strangers in that dark restaurant when should have been out with his friends, laughing and teasing his school teachers. He was trying to keep that white shirt clean lest the senior waiters scold him when he should have been wondering if his mother would have Surf for his school uniform after a romp in the mud.

Dine-In was not one of those dirty roadside eateries that gave a damn about the laws of the land, it was a reputed chain of quality restaurants. And child labor was a criminal offense.

The dormant social activist in me got all fired up, and I summoned the boy and asked him how old he was. He looked at me, bewildered. “Si..sixteen”, he stammered. I am not very knowledgeable about the child labor laws, but I guess above 14 does not qualify as child labor. Well, OK. Then I asked him how long he was working there. Almost a year, he said. A rehearsed lie? Maybe, but again, legally fine.  But morally? Emotionally? I am torn.

One voice inside my head kept telling me to lodge a complaint with the authorities. Let the officials determine whether he was actually 16 and the restaurant was not breaking any laws. Let them penalize the restaurant if they were breaking the law (which I am certain they were) and give back this child, Shamsuddin, his childhood. Send him back to school.

But the other voice inside me kept telling me to let it go. Maybe this child’s income from clearing out tables is what puts two meals on the table in his own house.

And here, I was torn between a child’s childhood and his livelihood.

With the two voices inside my head still waging a never-ending debate, I left the restaurant, with a heavy heart . All I could do was leave a generous tip, and hope that at least a part would reach the child.

Childhood. It happens just once. I just hope hungry diners like me and greedy restauranteurs do not take it away

Dont Mess With Mommy ๐Ÿ˜Š

This is a killer staff narrated to me by a friend of mine who resides in Bangalore....Real Identities not disclosed for obvious reasons... Lets Call the Guy Ram (a stereotype Indian Name) and the girl Radha (No offense to anyone of the same name)...
Ram's Mom came to visit him for dinner...who lives with a girl roommate Radha... During the course of the meal, his mother couldn't help but notice how pretty Ram's roommate was. She had long been suspicious of a relationship between the two, and this had only made her more curious.

Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Ram and his roommate than met the eye.....
Reading his mom' s thoughts, Ram volunteered," I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, Radha and I are just roommates."

About a week later, Radha came to Ram saying, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the silver chutney (Spicy Paste) jar. You don't suppose she took it, do you? "
"Well, I doubt it, but I 'll email her, just to be sure " So he sat down and wrote: Dear Mother, I 'm not saying that you did take the chutney jar from my house, I'm not saying that you did not take the chutney jar. But the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love, Ram.

Several days later, Ram received an email from his Mother which read: Dear Son, I 'm not saying that you do sleep with Radha, and I'm not saying that you do not sleep with Radha. But the fact remains that if she were sleeping in her OWN bed, she would have found the chutney jar by now.
Love, Mum.