The telephone conversation {by Revathi Raj Iyer}

I am nervous about a job interview. Please help!

Is this your first job interview?      
Yes.

Are you desperate for this job?
Yes.

What are you nervous about?
Whether I will get the job or not.

Okay. Say for instance you don't get this job?
Oh no! I cannot think of that.

Are you afraid of rejection?
Yes.

Have you ever failed in any exam or tests or anything?
No.

Then why do you think you will fail this interview?
Because it is an oral interview.

Oh! Are you afraid of facing the interviewer?
Yes.

Why?
Because I will be judged.

So?
Well, what if I do not live up to expectations?

By being nervous, you think you will?
No.

Then why be nervous and fail to live up to their expectations?
True.

Why not be 'not nervous' and rise up to their expectations?
Yes.

Makes sense?
Absolutely.

Are you still nervous about the job interview?
Not sure.

Yes or No?
I guess not.

When is the interview?
On the 26th August.

Today is 26th August.
Yes.

Is the interview over?
No. It starts at 3 p.m.

Another hour to go?
Yes.

Where are you?
At the studio.

Strange, I have an appointment at 3 p.m.
I know.

How do you know?
I am meeting you.

Me?
Yes.

Why?
You are going to interview me.

What?
I now feel much better talking to you.
Thank You:-)







 

The charmed boy {Revathi Raj Iyer}

The little boy was playful, so happy and innocent; a gift of God, did he not deserve to be so?

The wind blew his gurgle up in the skies;

The effervescence of his giggle peeled away the miseries;

Far and wide from the hearts of millions and trillions;

With joy and hope they looked up to the skies;

The little boy was playful, so happy and innocent; a gift of God, did he not deserve to be so?

Not too long ago one fateful day;

An infant lay desolate in a litterbin;

Blissful and cherubic his face shone in the moonlight;

As he slept under the embrace of the fiery night;

Oblivious of his plight and the plunder around;

Oh why! Oh why was he left there?

The little boy was playful, so happy and innocent; a gift of God, did he not deserve to be so?

A destitute, an unwed mother bound by shame;

Torn between love, hatred and fear;

Knew not how to break the shackles;

Made the choice to end two lives;

The clot in her chest, cast fury to hell;

As she disappeared into the wilderness;

The little boy was playful, so happy and innocent; a gift of God, did he not deserve to be so?

Amidst cries of anguish, despair and carnage;

Overcast by ugly shadows, gloom befalls the city;

Mobs blind with fury trample with no mercy;

Ravage the city that once stood tall;

The wind blew his gurgle up in the skies;

Alas! Lost in the embers of malice;

The little boy was playful, so happy and innocent; a gift of God, did he not deserve to be so?

Providence struck in the form of a kind passer-by;

A pudgy woman whom he troubles to no end;

Loves her to bits and calls her ma...

Lucky to be alive safe in his abode;

He knows not of his morbid past;

Oh, this charmed child of God survived;

To awaken us to the truth:

“Adorable are children meant to be cherished; never be left unto destiny alone to be buried.”

The little boy was playful, so happy and innocent; a charmed child of God, did he not deserve to be so?

Enchanting reflections {Revathi Raj Iyer}

Frozen she stood with eyes wide open;

Eyelids stuck to her bushy brows;

Eyelashes buried under the snowflakes;

Fiery eye balls bearing a semblance;

To the clear green sea, luminosity personified;

Alas! A glum look dwelt on her bronze face beneath the snowflakes;

As she stares into space and eternity;

Who was she, a princess under a spell?

Her feelings melted within her frozen heart;

As she waited in desperation for the warmth of the sun;

To bathe and bring the sparkle to her frozen body;

The bronze beauty that she was once upon a time;

Dainty dimples that could hold two pearls;

Alas! A glum look dwelt on her bronze face beneath the snowflakes;

As she stares into space and eternity;

Who was she, a maiden waiting for her beloved?

An admirable statue, a work of art;

An object of tease to those who knew no art;

The white frill and spots on her frozen frame;

Sprayed by the feathered friends that perched to rest;

Made them see not the kindness that lay within;

Alas! A glum look dwelt on her bronze face beneath the snowflakes;

As she stares into space and eternity;

Who was she, the muse of an artist?

One sunny day her frozen frame melted away;

She glistened and basked under the steamy rays;

And walked out of the cocoon into the vast vacuum;

As the air lifted her high up in the air;

The breeze softly brushed her curly locks;

The clouds enveloped her naked frame;

As she rose higher and higher and flitted across;

In search of those who looked up to her;

Alas! A glum look still dwelt on her delicate bronze face;

As she stares into space and eternity;

Who was she, an angel within us all?

Yes! A messenger of the eternal universe;

To hold the hands of the poor and needy;

To wipe their tears and spread cheer;

An epitome of kind heartedness;

That lies embedded within each one of us;

Oh! How wonderful it would be?

If only we knew how to let her free for ever and ever.

 

 

 

 

Expression of Pearls: The mango tree {Revathi Raj Iyer}

Expression of Pearls: The mango tree {Revathi Raj Iyer}

The mango tree {Revathi Raj Iyer}

Renuka was coming home after a very long time, indeed. Her trips to India had completely stopped in the last few years, owing to a shift in the priorities of both her husband Murthy and daughter Tarsha. She had a phobia for flights and felt very claustrophobic. This was her first trip all by herself and she was overwhelmed with joy and accomplishment, like an astronaut who was returning home from outer space. She looked out of the aircraft, took a deep breath and adjusted her Rado to the local India time. The watch was an engagement gift from Murthy. She fondled the watch as if to rekindle a sweet memory. Soon the plane would touch the grounds of her homeland. "Madam, can you bring the seat to an upright position and fasten your seat belt please," said the stewardess in a mechanical tone and moved on repeating the same line to a few others who were in deep slumber. Renuka obediently did what she had been reminded and closed her eyes. In spite of a 10 hour flight from Auckland to Singapore and another 3 ½ hours from Singapore to Chennai, her face showed no signs of tiredness. She was as energetic as ever and in a mood to have an all-nighter with her mother, who, she was certain, would be eagerly waiting for her at the airport. Murthy was a loving and caring husband. His parents had migrated to New Zealand in the early 40's. He moved up the corporate ladder very quickly, with the result, he became the youngest CFO in a leading bank. Anybody else in Renuka's place would have been more than happy. But here she was, restless and far from happy. Since the time Tarsha flew away from home to the States, the brilliant girl had managed a scholarship to study at Boston University; Murthy became even more preoccupied with his work. They were leading parallel lives, albeit being under the same roof. He had changed; was quieter and became a recluse at home. He escaped behind the façade of work. What made Murthy change was something Renuka was not sure about. He was a friendly type, not too reserved yet not flirtatious with women. So it could not be that he was having an affair. Even if he did, he would be honest enough to tell Renuka about it. 'Was Murthy missing Tarsha?' Renuka too missed her only daughter, more than anything else. 'Should that not have brought him even closer to me? Should we not be comforting each other and build a healthier relationship in an empty nest, just like other elderly couples, Jayanthi and Natarajan, for instance?' Renuka's thoughts travelled in time to finally dwell on her ageing parents in India. She had not seen them in a very long time... She was 22 and naïve when she left India on marrying Murthy. She loved the change, new friends, life style and everything else a foreign land can offer to a girl who has never seen anything beyond her own country. The 'grass is greener on the other side' syndrome had caught up with her, too. After Tarsha left, Renuka continued her humdrum job as librarian in a local library. Her job was paying well enough, but it was getting very monotonous. In fact, life itself was. She suddenly dreaded growing old in her adopted land. She knew Tarsha was not going to come back either. Tarsha was intelligent and fiercely ambitious. She was driven to make a career not just have a job. "America is the place to be," she had declared. Murthy and she were slowly drifting apart; both did not make any effort towards their relationship. She desperately wanted to see her parents. Renuka had been avoiding this topic, but when she eventually brought it up, Murthy did not utter a word. It was as if he had nothing to say. Not even a 'why' or 'can we make it work' or anything. "Do you want to visit your family or live there permanently?" is all he asked. Renuka was not expecting this. She did not bother to reply and started sorting her stuff. She packed a few of her favourite things and stuffed her bag with memorabilia that she and Tarsha had lovingly compiled over time – photos, scrap book, housewarming cards, birthday cards, thank you notes, sorry notes, card album and what have you! Renuka lovingly opened the box of shells and rare stones that Tarsha had picked from those snorkelling trips and pristine beaches. She placed it, neatly, in between her clothes and closed the suitcase. The past was great but it was over now. Her present was bothering her and she could see no future together with Murthy in this country. Murthy would never return to her homeland. She was determined to leave his. For once, Renuka wanted to be just a daughter with no other role to play. She had gone a long way and now wanted to reflect on her wavering life. The plane landed with a thud and as it taxied, Renuka jerked forward. Her eyes were a tad moist. She removed her glasses, wiped her tears, and put her glasses back on. She was in her hometown, Chennai. She suddenly got restless and squeezed herself in between the equally restless fellow passengers and managed to be the first to get off the plane. From a distance, she could see her mother in the waiting area of the airport, trying to catch a glimpse of her amidst the passengers. Suddenly their eyes locked, a moment of recognition, a moment of pain that turned to instant joy. Her mother was waving at her with both hands. Renuka quickened her pace and pushed her trolley as fast as she could. They hugged and stood motionless. "I thought you would never come," was the first thing she told her. "Why would I not ma?" answered Renuka releasing her grip. It was well past midnight when they reached home. Renuka could see that her father walked feebly, with a walking stick. He had definitely aged much more than what she had imagined. It was as if he would collapse any moment. He coughed violently. Ma handed him the flask. "He coughs a lot," her mother complained. Renuka led her father to his room and sat next to him on the bed. She held his hand and they didn't say a word to one another. That look on his daughter's face, he knew that something was wrong. He closed his eyes and she left the room, whispering good night. It must have been around 3 am when she fell asleep. The house was quiet and peaceful and the next morning Renuka was woken to the sound of the cuckoo. "Ga ma pa...," she remembered her music teacher and wondered if Janaki aunty would still be alive and was teaching music. How much Renuka had hated music then, especially when Janaki aunty would insist that she practice regularly! Renuka opened the old wooden cupboard and started rummaging. She was deeply touched that her mother had still preserved her favourite childhood stuff. She turned and looked at her suitcase with a twinge of guilt. "Was she being unfair to Tarsha?" She opened the bedroom window and was astonished to find the mango tree, majestic and larger than life. She could see several hundreds of mangoes hanging like bells. A few cattle were resting under the tree. There was a shepherd sleeping next to them using his headgear as a pillow. In the midst of it all, her childhood was locked; she in a ponytail, frock, barefooted and Bashir her best friend, who lived in a small house in the neighbourhood. She had met him under that tree. They were both 14 years old. He had promised to marry her; Bashir, her childhood friend. Painful memories buried with time suddenly sprang to life. *** It was the summer of Class 10. Her annual visit to her grandparents' home, where her parents were now living, would attract the attention of girls and boys in the neighbourhood. They were her playmates except this boy, Bashir, who would merely watch them. Renuka thought it quite silly, at first. Her friend said that he was shy and did not play with girls. That prodded naughty Renuka to try getting friendly with Bashir. She spoke to him and he answered. He spoke to no other girl and this flattered her. They would sprint up to the mango tree, a self-timed race in which Bashir would invariably let Renuka win. She would continuously chatter just about anything and everything, and Bashir would quietly listen to her and not say a word. She would then ask him to pluck mangoes and he would oblige. Once he even fell off the tree and almost broke his scrawny leg. Still he never refused to climb the tree and pluck the mangoes as she kept pointing towards them. He would watch her eat a few and take some home for her grandmother. "How on earth did you manage to pluck all these?" her grandmother demanded one day. "Not hard at all patti, I used a long stick with a hook that I found under the tree. All this is for you to make pickles," she lied with a silent prayer to God to forgive her for this sin. 'How on earth could she tell patti about Bashir?' That summer Bashir did not come to see her. She asked the neighbours. Nobody knew. His father owned a bicycle shop. One day without telling her grandparents, Renuka went to the shop to enquire about Bashir. She was unable to locate it. Then she noticed a shop, with shutters down and a red seal on it. She did not quite understand what it meant. "Uncle, what happened to that shop, why is it closed?" she asked the adjacent shop owner. "Beta, the cops have taken away Khan Sahib," he replied. Renuka was shocked. Khan Sahib was Bashir's father. "What about Bashir?" she asked, trembling. He gave her a blank look and went back to his work. Bashir her best friend who had promised to seek her hand in marriage had vanished in thin air. He had broken his promise. *** Renuka was unable to tear her eyes away from the mango tree; a tree that abided by its duty entrusted by nature and stood the test of time until beheaded by the selfish human race. It had aged beautifully, large and luminous; and perhaps oblivious to the fact of having been a silent witness to little Renuka's first love. The leaves swayed rhythmically in the gentle breeze, as if trying to say something in self-defence. In that spur of the moment a hard truth hit her. Her parents now needed the comfort and shade, like that of that dutiful mango tree more than anyone else. 'Time and space will make Murthy understand,' she assured herself and the same night informed her parents about her decision. "Ma, I am not going back." Her father took it all in calmly. Her mother looked worried. No questions were hurled. "This is also your home Renuka," said her father, leaving her mother in a state of confused joy.

Published in Muse India - July/August, 2015
Thank you Atreya Sarma - Editor (fiction & reviews)
 

Happy birthday to baby Ganesha :)

Wishing you all a happy Ganesh Chaturthi (Birthday)



The divinity of light

Light is a pure energy source. It is widely believed that the divinity in light generates a sense of calm and wellbeing.  As a little girl I was fascinated and curious when my mother lit the silver lamp before she began her daily chores. I thought she was following this ritual to please God.

“Does this make God happy?” I asked her one day to which she replied,

“Yes, God will be happy, but ‘light is God and God is light’, she added.

Her reply did confuse me at that time. But now when I think about it, I feel there was much truth in those simple words said to a confused little girl.

Candle, incense, lamp, whatever it may be, this is an element that brings positivity and good energy flow. In its pristine form light signifies knowledge and wisdom; on the other hand darkness is associated with ignorance. Most religions believe in the power of light, one way or another. Light also improves our moods. People who live in cold countries often complain about the gloomy and dreary weather. Come summer and everybody is happy to step out and soak up the sun. Don’t we all ensure that our homes get plenty of sunshine? Such is the power of light!

A beautiful moment, a celebration, a romantic night, a touch of warmth, a touch of class, sheer ecstasy, a flavour to inhale, a sweet memory, a contemplative state; a ray of light can touch that chord to trigger off these positive emotions. This is the magic of light!

Yoga, wisdom and light are all interconnected. There is a cosmic energy that is already present in the Universe. Light is a mere invitation for the energy to come to you or your surroundings. Candle gazing, also known as trataka, is extremely popular whist meditating and cleansing one’s mind.

I recall having read an interesting fact in a book by John Ittner that at Sivananda ashrams, worldwide, the food served is sattvic (mild and pure). They include only those vegetables that are grown in natural sunshine and mushrooms in particular are not served, as they are grown in dark conditions.

The traits or 'gunas' of nature is well explained in Chapter 14 of the Bhagavad Gita, the Hindu Scripture. This chapter reveals the wisdom of the three characteristics of nature imparted to the great warrior Arjun by Lord Krishna:

·        sattva (light)

·         rajas (fire)

·        tamas (darkness).

A sattvic mind is calm, serene and inquisitive, a rajasic mind is fiery and craves for power and a tamasic mind is ignorant, lazy and dull.

Renowned yogis feel the sattva, the light within themselves. They were able to perceive their true inner self and the light within. The story of Buddha and the sages who have attained enlightenment have seen this eternal light that has taken them closer to God and to become one with the Almighty.

Light is all pervasive and spins the energy wheel in our daily life.