Shivam Diaries

Author: shivam

  • Is this why kids are called Gods?

    August 12, 2013
 Subject: [Iyer123] Is this why kids are called Gods?
    At 7.30 yesterday morning I left my daughter’s house in Ocala, Florida back to Baltimore along with my son, his wife and two children. Nearly 14 hours drive  became 15  long hours due to traffic jam near Washington DC. The sky, when we left, was lustrous  with brilliant rays beaming all over and penetrating and removing  the lavish white  spread on the vast turf on both sides and tears of  dews were going up as water vapors.
    “How could these kids,  who played , ate, swam, fought and slept together for 2 weeks, could wave adieu, with no remarkable expression on their eyes and face?” I wondered, looking at them, two  sitting inside the car and the other two, standing in front of their house . They are not likely to meet each other till the next summer vacation, they know that and still  how is that no trace of sorrow of parting is lit on their faces? They behaved as if they were leaving for the school for meeting again in the evening!
    Is this why  kids are called Gods?

    ==============================================================================

    Comments:
    ————————–
    Mahadevan Venkitasub​biar
    18:29PM
    To: iyer123
    Cc: sivaratna@hotmail.com

    This is what the Sages have been advising us to follow – to live only in the present. We should not allow the past to torment us nor permit anxiety about the future to deprive us of our peace of mind. Children have Godly qualities, as Shri Peirnkulam has  correctly put it. They live only in the present. No wonder, you find innocence writ at large in their faces!
    V.Mahadevan
    —————————————————————————————————————————–

    Sir,
    To Iyer 123

    Children are more resilient than the adults.They quickly forget things.They are pure in heart.That is why we say children are equivalent to god.
    Venkataraman
    —————————————————————————————————————————————

    Dear Thiru Sivasubramanian
Nice and very touching. Yes , children r really great and endearing.
With warm regards,
Ur
R Sahasranaman [Naman][Bombay}
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
    A very nice write up.  Yes, innocent children behave with maturity and are like Gods.
    Sethumadhavan V.
    ———————————————————————————————————————————–
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    Curtain down abruptly; audience clap- A social drama
    
			
    Scene: My friend’s house, on the eve of Varalakshmi vratham
    
Characters:
    
MILK = Mother in law Kamakshi.
    
DILK  = Daughter in law Kav for Kaveri
    
DRUK =   Daughter Ruk for Rukmani.
    
FIL =    Kamakshi’s husband &
    
Son =  Their Son.
    
When the curtain goes up, DILK is seen with a cloth bundle in her hand, while, MILK, with keen eyes, wondering what it contains. She raises her eyebrows to know the contents.
    
DILK = Mom, I’m unpacking kalasam, idol and other materials for tomorrow’s Varalakshmi poojai.
    
MILK=  We don’t celebrate Varalakshmi vratham in this house and you know that. Put that cloth bundle  back into your box..
    
DILK = Mom, please. My mother has been doing the pooja for the last several years and what is the harm
    
if I continue here? It is a worship to bring us prosperity, right?
    
MILK = Don’t introduce a new custom and my words are final here, ask Appa if you want.
    
FIL, my friend,  nods he head to say, ‘yes’.
    
The door bell rings. MILK again majestically raises her eyebrows to know who was there. Son goes and comes with DRUK who also holds a cloth bundle in her hand.
    
MILK, enthusiasm overflowing in her face, eyes, words,  welcomes her daughter and enquirers why that bundle.
    
DRUK= Mom, Kalasam, idol and other materials for tomorrow’s poojai.  Chandru is out of station. I didn’t feel doing pooja alone at home; So came here . Is it OK, mom?
    
Son: It is not OK. Whether your husband is at home or not, you should do pooja at your house, means your husband’s house. What do you say, dad?
    
FIL, my friend, nods his head vertically to say ‘yes’ and MILK throws an angry look at him.
    
MILK : You both father and son are wrong. Ruk has every right to perform the pooja here as this is the house where she was born and grown.
    
Son : But mom, this pooja is not in our tradition here.
    
MILK : Traditions are not permanent Trademarks . They  can be modified to  suit the circumstances and there is no hard and fast rule about that.. What do you say? She asks her husband . He nods his head vertically to say ‘yes’.
    
Son: Then mom, why didn’t you apply the same rule in the case of Kav ? This is nothing but partiality towards your daughter and bias against your DIL.
    
MILK, thinks for a moment, turns head majestically peeping deep into every one’s eyes and calmly replies:
    
In the case of Kav, Lakshmi is already with us, has become a part of us, safe in Kav’s box whereas, Varalakshmi has just come along with my daughter, as a honorable guest and it is our duty to receive and respect Her by doing pooja, elaborately.  Honoring guests is our tradition.
    
Son: But mom, traditions are not permanent Trademarks–
    
MILK , Without blinking an eye, turns towards her husband and asks :  Are you with your son or me?
    
FIL, my friend, struggles without knowing whether to nod his head vertically or horizontally and MILK without giving him more time, pulls down the curtain.
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    if you want water
    
			
    If you want water, don’t command from your seat;  get up, walk down to the kitchen, drink, wash the tumbler and return. If you drop your shirt button, don’t expect someone to come ; you bend, search and pick it up. In fact, it is good for your back , if you drop something or other half a dozen times, bend and pick up. All these small things help, in keeping you fit.Lying on my back, before raising from the bed, I do cycling in the air, 20,30,50 times and it forces my arthritic knees to cooperate in walking.  This simple exercise works better than my tryst with tread mill.  Like an elephant, I keep one part or the other of my body moving, neck to toe, which increases the flexibility of my body. You may laugh at me, but I don’t want to become a laughing stock later. Yes, that word came automatically but it is apt. Sometime, apt words appear in your tongue. If you are a daughter in law of old type, you would have experienced their sharpness.  Here, I said that word is apt, because, ‘stock’ is an inventory and it doesn’t move on its own. 
    

     
    

    

    

    Earlier, as a part of my body- movement exercise, I was doing facial movements too which, especially in the presence of women from outside, proved disastrous. still, at times, I move my lips horizontally, but if my daughter or daughter in law happens to see that, they raise their forefinger to their lip and warn silently. While doing that exercise, our servant woman happened to be there once and only once. she copied my action. I didn’t like that. I didn’t reserve it; was staying yards away.  
    

    If you have no freedom to turn your lips, to right or left , in your own house, 65 years after gaining independence, was all the sacrifices we made worth?
    

    Sandya worship, facing the rising or setting Sun is always a pleasure. Apart from sharpening my intellect and mind, it gives me plenty of scope for body movement. Eyes beam at the benevolent rays’ varnishing the whole sky, golden or purple. The finger movements on the face has to be strictly as per the prescription and not as if you are tickling your lover’s hip or back. I can’sit on my heels for a long time but I am trying to regain that lost skill. But to enjoy the Gayatri’s beauty, when you close your eyes, your inner eyes should open. For some, the inner ears will open; No good.
    

    

      Inhalation and exhalation has to be proper. 
    

     
    

    “Count the number of times you breathe in a minute. Now look at the mirror. Vedic rishis have said that if your breath count is less than 10 per minute, you will exude youth, beauty and glow. If it is above 15, you have fallen prey to disease, sadness and old age.” says  yogi Aswini.
    


     
    

    ” As a rule, if you are able, my teacher Srivatsa Ramaswami says you should inhale five seconds and exhale ten seconds, the idea being that when you exhale more, more toxins go out, and also with the longer exhalation, the stomach gets more empty and the inhaling capacity increases. Swami Sachidananda says that the ordinary breath gives you only 500 cubic centimeters whereas with dirga svasam you can increase it to seven times more: 3500 cm. Ancient yogis are known to have the ability to inhale 48 seconds, 96 seconds exhale, and four times retention!”, says Perinkulam Ramanthan, yoga expert,  New Jersey.
    

    In his ripe old age, he grows fresh, green vegetables which develops pink roses in his wife’s face.
    

     
    

    In your old age, if you can develop a vegetable garden in your backyard and a rose garden in your wife’s face, you are lucky.   
    

     
    

    

     Sooryanamskarams helps a complete, head to toe, muscles move, blood flow.
    

     
    Show me any Ganesh idol on the road side or under a banyan tree, I am there, bending my head and holding opposite earlobes,, one, two, three several times,
    

     I don’t want to bend before everyone later, better let me do it now, before the little charming idol and make my neck muscles stronger.
    

     There are app. 650 skeletal muscles in our body.” Muscles function to produce force and motion. They are primarily responsible for maintaining and changing posture, locomotion, as well as movement of internal organs, such as the contraction of the heart and the movement of food through the digestive system via peristalsis.” says Wikipedia.You may not be in your winter, but winter has to follow a summer. So, be prepared And if you are already in winter, go to kitchen, collect your plate, sit on the floor and eat. Important: Before you eat, bend and serve your wife .You will live long. Your wife has already achieved long life for her, by hard work . Gone are the days of aattukkal, ammi, oral, olakkai and other hard cooking  implements which were the  sentinels for the health of our women folk . We can still retain our broom stick for sweeping and white cloth for mopping the floor. If you have these two and use them regularly , there is no need for a gym at home.
    

     
    

    Whenever I come to USA, a watermelon grows in my belly, for want of walk, walk which was part of my life at Hyderabad. Looking pitiably at that growth, I asked my nephew, Dr. Ramu,
    

     
    

    “what to do?”
    

     
    

    ”Cut carbo and take a walk after food”, he advised .
    

     
    

    I have switched over to wheat diet to reduce my carbohydrate intake .
    

     
    

    About walk after a meal:
    

    

    “Over the years, researchers have found that a post-meal walk, as short as 15 minutes, can in fact help with digestion and improve blood sugar levels. In one study in 2008, German researchers looked at what happened when people ate a large meal and then consumed either an espresso or an alcoholic digestif — like brandy or flavored liqueur — or walked at a slow pace on a treadmill. Walking, they found, sped the rate at which food moved through the stomach. The beverages had no effect.
    

    In other studies, researchers have found that walking has a significant effect on blood sugar after meals. Blood sugar typically rises and then falls after eating, but large spikes and variations can raise cardiovascular riskand potentially signal diabetes”.
    

    

     
    

    Remember the words of Nambeesan Vaidyar in Sreekanteswaram, long ago.
    

     
    

    ”Rento,nalo chakram ulla rakshasanmar untenkil, avarae vadhikku”
    

     
    

    Discard if you have a two or a four w
    
heeler. The literal meaning is ” kill if there are two or four wheeled demons with you” .
    

     
    

    Before that, even to post a letter into the box across, I used to take a vehicle . To shout at someone a mile away, now, I walk and by the time I reach his place, my fuel gets exhausted and I smile at him. ”I thought,you came to rain blows”,he asks.
    

    ‘No, to drain my fat”,  I reply 
    

     
    

    

    

    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    "Go and eat, hungry you are"
    
			
    

    ” Did I stampede upon this life by accident, or
    

     A premeditated,  predesignated product I am?
    

    Would I have received the same warmth and love
    

    Were an elephant, cow, or another woman, my mom?”                                    1
    

    

    

    ”Neither your question nor the answer, I know ”, said mom,
    

    ”Would have hit with head and broken the Heaven’s dome
    

    Were it not you, you and you alone
    

    Were gifted to me by the Heaven’s throne.                                                               2
    

    

    

    Then, she touched to see whether my stomach was empty,
    

    Oh, how I kicked and roamed in her stomach and made it dirty!
    

    How much she would have suffered  to bring me unto here !
    

    And how unmoved were I,  when she left for ever!                                                3
    

    

    

    Her tender frame had become a torn piece of cloth
    

    Working hard to bring me up, against  the Fate’s wrath
    

    The heat of life made her immune to fire
    

    The final fire had no need to dare.                                                                                4
    

    

    

    “Go and eat, hungry  you are”, flashed words
    

    from no where dashed a bird
    

    The rice balls from my hands rolled on the ground
    

    Scooped the crow, it flew round and round.                                                              5
    

    

    

    ”No another woman, cow or elephant”, I screamed.
    

    “I want you as my mom again “, the sky  beamed
    

    “Go and eat , hungry you are”, those words
    

     I hear every time, I see some birds!                                                                                6
    

    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    "How will I live without you?'
    
			
    ” I simply don’t like your saying,’  I love you, I can’t live without you’,  and all such rubbish ”
    
“Why Ammalu ?”
    
“As there is no other way for you but to love me, as you have married me ”
    
“It is not necessary for me to love you just because I married you!”‘
    
” It is necessary as you need coffee soon after you get up in the morning and soap and towel, soon after you enter the bath room.”
    
” But how will l live without you Ammalu ?”
    
” By making coffee for another woman and standing with towel and soap at the bathroom door.”
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    the wood outhouse in our backyard
    
			
    The wood outhouse in our backyard has no top;
    
Only a few shafts can see the full sky when I look up.
    
Fuming or cool like a mother’s mood
    
When her kids refuse or agree for food.                                       1
    
The wood outhouse in our backyard has no side covers
    
Only a low fence can see trees and bushes live like lovers.
    
The secret language they use for chat
    
The bird on the tree knows and the pussy cat                             2
    
There is a rubber ball kids have kicked and thrown
    
It jumps up in joy when hits the ground
    
Or is it the Mother Earth that lifts it up to boost
    
It’s spirits, after healing its wound?                                             3
    
Why these little squirrels are in hurry, I wonder
    
To buy tickets to climb walls and wander?
    
Why are these birds noisy and restless?
    
When the sky is calm, no lightning or thunder?                                      4
    
Oh, they want to run away from me, as I’m singing!
    
Is singing a crime? No, they say, ‘you are bungling’.
    
” The court singer of heaven, Air, is your teacher
    
How can I match you?’ I ask ashamed of my torture..                              5
    
There is a fireplace close by, to warm us in winter
    
What a fool am I? I am fire, the sky is fire, and oceans are fire.
    
The fire of love pushed me into mother’s womb
    
The fire of life makes me breathe; the fire of Death will take away.            . 6
    
The wood outhouse in our backyard has no top or sides
    
‘Why do you call it a house and not deck then?” you ask.
    
For squirrels, cats, birds, lizards and butter flies,
    
A wayside shelter, a way for my flutter.                                                       7
    
Yes, I flutter with joy when I sit there
    
When the sun, birds and animals sit very near
    
I utter the glory of the high sky
    
Looking up, oh, how far but how close by!                                                 8
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    Going back home, sweethome
    
			
    

    The flight from Vancouver to Chicago was memorable; the Sun brightening the entire sky, the clouds glistening as if they are all made of pure silver, crimson  beams passing through in between, layers and layers of snow covered mountains and then barren hills exposing the silent brooks,water falls  and weak dents, then green or dark  squares and rectangle, clearly earmarked by straight lines, mostly, occasionally circular, which turned out to be motor roads leading from different house colonies, the houses revealed in between them only when the aircraft slows down. The weather was exceptionally friendly and otherwise such a breath-taking view from the sky was impossible. Our life journey too, even by road, depends on favorable climates, both internal and external!.
    

    

    To look down from the sky has always been man’s  ambition, envying the birds, who effortlessly  soar high, flutter, shoot up , dive or settle on a tree. ‘Even a small animal like squirrel climbs up the trees with such an ease, why can’t I?”, he asked, tried to climb trees, succeeded and  then tried to trek the hills, mountains and his joy of viewing the earth below from the high pedestal was unique, as I had while bird’s- eye-viewing the City of New York, the rivers, the crowded streets, woods, from the tops of skyscrapers, including the 102-story, Empire State Building, located in Midtown Manhattan, New York City,
    

    

    From bikes to balloons, then to aircraft and from there to spacecraft, we have pushed ourselves higher and higher and yet to many, who have participated in those thrilling voyages, the best part of it was looking back towards home, the sweet home!
    

    

    Every one has to go back to, from where he started. For some,  the return journey turns difficult. Much depends upon how we prepare ourselves for that. Preparation doesn’t mean keeping our things well packed and pushing the baggage below the pillow . Keeping the mind clean and prepared to start the engine the moment the bell rings, helps. Another way is to ignore the fact that the journey is new but only a continuation of the present one.
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    "You're me and me, you"
    
			
     
    
The moment it hits the soil, the happiness seed
    
Breaks, procreates, grows and blooms as smile
    
The sorrow screws, chokes and slices heart’s domain
    
And bursts into tears, ah, the scars remain.                       1
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
I don’t waste time counting my scars
    
Count only the scattered stars,
    
Scars are many, stars a few, still
    
Sufficient to shine and spread a thrill.                                  2
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
That little sky of mine is a mystery land,
    
A magician with a magic wand?
    
A playful child with a music band,
    
Or a demon with a mace in hand?                                        3
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
Vagabond clouds and virgin beams,
    
Twinkling stars and singing streams,
    
Turbulent storms and turbid ponds
    
All there, in unbelievable bonds.                                           4
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
Am I their master, how could that be,
    
When they rock me like a helpless baby?
    
‘You are the master, rule them’, ordered my book
    
I tried and failed; alas, have no luck.                                      5
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
‘Let they come and go’, advised my Lord,
    
‘They are my forms, as you are ‘, my God!
    
Now they come and go, but who bothers?
    
We are all one, me, my thoughts and my Lord.                      6
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
Muti-hooded serpents and innocuous earthworms,
    
Vociferous drummers and voiceless bums,
    
They all go along with the flow
    
And I stand on the shore watching below.                             7
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
‘Let they come and go’, I tell, they sail.
    
Absolute silence and peace prevail.
    
Then comes a melody floating in the air
    
Gets absorbed into the soul, layer by layer.                            8
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
‘Stay forever, stay forever’, still I plead
    
To the music from the divine reed
    
‘Why this fear?’ asks my Lord, smiling
    
‘You are the music, where will you go?’                                    9
    
 
    
 
    
 
    
Wiping tears, ‘who am I, before Thou!’ I tell my Lord,
    
‘You are the music, you the pipe and the player’
    
He smiles again and utters unambiguously
    
‘You’re me and me, you’
    
 
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    As you know, certain things are not in our hands
    
			
    


    


    

    





    

    






    
    

    

     
    
Sometimes, we can do nothing but wait. Depending on the result anticipated, that wait becomes joyful, fearful or suspense – soaked. The result could also be much against our anticipation, as it happened in my case when I sent a love letter to my girl friend (not now, as I have become wiser, but long ago when I was a boy!).
    
Within a few seconds after the letter was handed over by my courier, neighbor Appukuttan of 4th standard, I cursed, myself, ” che, is this the way to write a letter to a lover? Is there in it a single poetic flow or a flower of flattery? ”
    
I wanted to re-write it.
    
“Monae, get that letter back,” I requested Appukuttan, ‘‘run like a hare”. He did that. Ran like a hare and reached the destination within half a minute. My heart was playing idakka.  Idakka, as you know, is a small drum used in Guruvayoor and other Sree Krishna temples, generating melodious soft beats, sweet to the ears. Had I any doubt in my mind that my girlfriend (for convenience sake, let us call her Ammu), would shout at the courier, my heart would have been beating like a chendai. You know chendai, again is a percussion instrument, pounded left and right with hard sticks, produces big sounds.
    
Anyway, when Appukuttan approached, Ammu was making dosai on a kummutty.  Kummutty again, as you know, is a small coal-oven, used in olden days, to provide uniform heat, as is required in dosai preparation.
    
“Chetchi, chettan wants that letter back”, submitted my little friend.
    
“Which letter?” asked the innocent girl, wide-opening her small mouth and big eyes. Her mouth was small then but would have become large later).
    
”That paper I gave you a short while ago” clarified the innocent messenger.
    
“Oh, I used it for wiping the dosakal” replied the girl with small mouth and big eyes. Dosakal again, as you know, is the iron tawa or thick plate on which the dosai is made.
    
We didn’t have non-sticking griddles those days for making dosai. The iron pans, preferably thick ones as those from Chenkottai were considered to be the ideal ones, because of their higher heat-retaining capacity.
    
I don’t know whether Ammu was using a Chenkotttai pan or some ordinary brand. But that matters little. She didn’t have a non-sticking one.
    
Were non-sticking pans available then, she would have given back my letter and I would have poured all my skills to ornament it.
    
As you know, certain things are not in our hands.
    
 
    
 
    

    


    



    
    

    

    —
    
 
    

    
			
    
		
    
		
	
  • 
		
		
    
			
			
    Farewell my friend, Vancouver
    
			
    Y
    
image
    
Your woods, hills and rivers took over
    
A chip of my mind, Vancouver.
    
Farewell now, but shall come again
    
To enjoy your snow -capped hills and pouring rain.               1
    
Towering mountains, lazy lakes,
    
Chirping birds and bashful creeks,
    
Mesmerizing maples and haughty oaks
    
All follow me as friendly folks                                            2
    
The mountain range and the Ocean
    
Are lovers bound in passion,
    
Guarding the city of Vancouver
    
A majestic boon for ever                                                  3
    
The Mount Baker’s glacial crown
    
Shining in the morning sun
    
Seen from the ‘Golden Ears’
    
Will last in mind for years.                                                4
    
Like the white veil of a bride
    
Flows down with pride
    
A cascade with bubbling smile
    
Aptly named ‘Bridal veil’                                                   5
    
Shamed and subdued at the ‘Hells Gate’
    
River Fraser thunders
    
Drowpathy is she, a forest fire
    
Ferocious with endless ire.                                              6
    
Fraser, you dissipate your woes
    
By sounds and pounds on the shores
    
My woes have turned into rocks,
    
No mouth to weep or eyes for tears.                                  7
    
The Capilano bridge hangs and rocks
    
Between two mountains, like our life,
    
Quietly flows below a perennial river
    
Like the Divine Grace that flows for ever                          8
    
Thanks my kin for the love and care
    
To you sky, for the weather fair
    
My thirst to be with you is not yet over
    
May we meet again, Vancouver                                      9