tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60442858116504507602024-03-25T05:02:22.248+05:30THE MADRAS TIMESEducates - Enlightens - Entertains -
A treasure chest of knowledge, wisdom and intelligenceK. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-79126280366973485162012-02-08T06:46:00.000+05:302012-02-08T06:46:34.066+05:30A hospital-ity context<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>A hospital-ity context </b></span></div><br />
<b><span style="color: purple;">Year 1950. Location - Changanacherry, Kerala. A group of Roman Catholic dignitaries from Vatican landed in our College Campus run by the local Catholic Church, in a white 1952 State-of-the Art limousine. The College Management was more than delighted. The Malayalam Professor with a decent working knowledge in Latin and English was deputed to be the principal host. The Management was confident that the priest will do justice to his job. The guests were taken around the campus, the lab, the hostels, staff quarters, the local Roman Catholic Church.......... </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="color: purple;">A medical centre was in their last itinerary and the time has come for them to depart. The guests profusely thanked the host and made a moving adieu. ‘Your hospitality was commendable’, the leader said. The Malayalam Pundit in his broken English gracefully acknowledged the gesture in his inimitable humble voice. ‘We do not have as much as one finds in a hospital; still we do an excellent job with what ever little we have’. The guests quickly retreated amazed.</span></b><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">( This story was woven as a suitable jolt to the Malayalam Professor who insisted that he would talk only Malayalam words in his class. </span>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-21263471503260816232012-02-08T06:26:00.000+05:302012-02-08T06:26:11.900+05:30A VALENTINE TWEETING INCIDENT - A D 2000 - SHOCKING; YET ROMANTIC<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: red; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">A VALENTINE TWEETING INCIDENT - A D 2000 - </span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: red; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">SHOCKING; YET ROMANTIC</span></b></div><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"><b>VALENTINE DAY - Time - 6 AM, February 14, 2000. Location Chennai</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><b>The weather was cool and sleep inducing. My telephone bell started ringing disturbing my deep slumber. I ran to the front room and lifted the receiver. “Yes, please”, I responded in feigned courtesy.. </b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I love you, I love you, and I love you so much, Darling”.</span> A cool romantic voice cooed in from the other side. I was shell-shocked and stunned for a few seconds, but soon regained my composure. Matching the tone in Maddy’s cinematic expression I chirped responding.: - </b></span><br />
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<b><span style="color: #274e13;">“ I too love you, sweetie. Thank you so much for understanding and appreciating that even at 68, I will be able to manage and perform situations arising out of love”. Her instrument fell dead</span><span style="color: magenta;">.</span></b><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"> <span style="color: purple;">- It happened – K Mathew Thomas</span></div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-67825121102249855842012-02-07T09:00:00.000+05:302012-02-07T09:00:33.464+05:30Facial treatment on a PONGAL day - This happened 3 decades ago<span style="color: purple; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mid Januaary - three continuous holidays - </span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No early rising - No shaving - No writing reports -</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">On Pongal Day I wanted to be a little extra smart and naughty to my children. I called my 12 year old dauhter Asha aside and gave an instant affectionate emery treatment on her soft arm with my unshaven face. She grew pretty wild and punched me black and blue uttering inappropriate words. This is unfair Madam; be fair, I said. Here is my hand; give me an emery treatment in return. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She thought for a while; then stood erect; pulled my mush out and I nearly screamed in pain. “Be fair; Sir, don’t scream; pull my mush out” was her cool retort. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red;">K. Mathew Thomas, </span><br />
<span style="color: red;">Ex. Editor - The Sales Digest</span><br />
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<span style="color: red;"><b>This happened: but 'Sir' and 'Madam' are my additions</b></span>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-47481293537938105082012-02-06T06:53:00.001+05:302012-02-07T09:04:15.772+05:30What we even can't dream of, can happen - Pray, you realise your dreams<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What we even can't dream of, can happen </span></div><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Things we never dream of happening, sometimes happen. In 1957 I was in Bombay in search of a job. After a day’s desperate attempt to land in one I used to go in the evening to the GateWay of India to relax for some time. I used to observe fat wealthy women alighting from posh cars; take coins in their hand and throw it in the sea to please their God, in the midst of poor people stretching their hands for alms. The logic of their action still confuses me. Hotel Taj faces the Gate Way of India. I have seen escorted well clad men and women alighting from beautiful limousines go in accompanied by the front office guard. I was sure I would never make it in my life-time, but I exercised my wild freedom of imagination. I imagined myself to be one Taj resident to appease my own sadistic satisfaction. Then I will remember the fox after the grapes story and will abstain from such wayward imagination.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <span style="color: #6aa84f;">In 1960, I landed in a job in Johnson & Johnson of India Ltd. A job in it was the most coveted one then. This spider failed twice, but never yielded. In the third attempt the spider made it. And that too in the Sales Department under the awesome leadership of a genius, the late Win Chadha who left his job in the early sixties to be the leading hunted figure in Bofor's scam. In 1967 during a conference as the District Manager in the Southern Zone, I was allotted a room named ‘Viceroy Suite’, the most prestigious and expensive one in India, in Taj with mini-bar facilities. Bar was always bar to me. So I did not use it. But for two days I stayed in a facility that was the exclusive domain of the top privileged beings in India, Maharajas, Viceroys and others in the top rung.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I look back many reverses in my life project before me. These reverses have always turned out to be good for me in later years. Along with are great surprises like this Taj episode. </span><br />
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<b><span style="color: blue; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Learn this from me: I interact with my God direct and He does not have to search for my blessings brokers to channel the flood of his blessings on me. As I write this I am literally in tears.</span></b><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><b><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">K. Mathew Thomas - Ex. Editor - The Sales Digest</span></b></div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-17276471479396197692012-01-31T15:20:00.000+05:302012-01-31T15:20:23.930+05:30Time is precious for all of us<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAzczPTD3GUflwKJLZCGcgC3MsI3BQkcuoRNfN5KOZEJI1nXb9ODjmeWN0c-0fJ66Wf5posVxFzCDzDvIvZ0Cw8vKz711KY-j1QPLbAEwTTwN3htGipFF3AxCl3-nO2RvoezHfHme_Ovy/s1600/Time+is+precious.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAzczPTD3GUflwKJLZCGcgC3MsI3BQkcuoRNfN5KOZEJI1nXb9ODjmeWN0c-0fJ66Wf5posVxFzCDzDvIvZ0Cw8vKz711KY-j1QPLbAEwTTwN3htGipFF3AxCl3-nO2RvoezHfHme_Ovy/s320/Time+is+precious.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-3309486732332146342011-04-04T16:17:00.000+05:302011-04-04T16:17:01.326+05:30ON VOTING CREEDS<h2 class="date-header" style="color: #777777; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font: normal normal bold 105%/normal 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px;"><br />
</h2><div class="date-posts" style="color: #6131bd; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" style="margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="" name="4513776821268086716" style="color: #de7008;"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="color: #9e5205; font: normal normal bold 194%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://thecitizendigest.blogspot.com/2011/04/ideal-creed-of-party-cadre-k-mathew.html" style="color: #9e5205;">Ideal creed of a party cadre - K Mathew Thomas</a></h3><div><br />
</div><div class="post-header"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4513776821268086716"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>IDEAL CREED OF A </b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>PARTY CADRE </b></span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I believe: God is love; we’re from it and for it; let HIS name be glorified for ever</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I have the character of being dedicated and loyal to my family, my brethren and my party</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I live by the word that no one is more honorable and professional than I am.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I am a citizen of a time honored country with time honored traditions which is the essence of my existence. I am proud to be a member of a people friendly party and will at all times conduct myself so as to bring credit to my family, the culture of my country regardless of the situation that changes. I will not use this pride and influence to attain personal pleasure, profit or gain of any nature. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Competence is my watch word.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">The basic responsibilities I will always keep foremost in my mind are –</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">To honor my God</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">To look after the welfare of my family</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">To pursue the objectives of my party in serving the people</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">To accomplish any task I undertake</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I strive to remain effective, efficient and competent where possible and proficient in every undertaking.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I am fully aware of my role and responsibilities and I will fulfill responsibilities inherent to that role.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">All members of my party are entitled to outstanding leadership and demonstrate our potential in the country.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I know my people and will always place their needs above my own</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I will work consistently for the welfare of my brethren and my family and ensure for them a better future.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I will be fair to all God’s creation and will be impartial when imparting justice and help within my means</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I will earn the respect and confidence of those with whom I interact irrespective of their station in life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I will live by divine guidance and the direction of my elders in the society I live in, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Never will I compromise the integrity, moral courage, heritage and the honor of those who are closer to me who are talented, intelligent and rich in association with culture and traditions.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I assume myself as a humble leader; will face fearful situations and live for ever as a gentleman maintaining calmness and firmness.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I will never lose faith in God and the humanity I am destined to serve and will uphold what is right and divine regardless of consequences.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I will perform all the tasks assigned to me by my leaders and maintain the highest standard of performance. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">I respect and value the trust placed on my loyalty and I will never betray it. I will remain optimistic and enthusiastic about the future of my country. I will take the initiative to secure that future with God’s grace.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"> I will walk proudly holding moral principles and integrity. I will never act hastily and come to conclusions </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;">I am equally proud of my Indian citizenship </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: medium;">and my Tamilnadu lineage</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">K. Mathew Thomas</span></div><div style="clear: both;"></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="color: #444444; font-size: 9px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
<div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-2"><span class="post-labels"></span></div><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-3"></div></div></div></div><div id="latency-4513776821268086716"></div><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" style="margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="" name="2472970436290463535" style="color: #de7008;"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="color: #9e5205; font: normal normal bold 194%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://thecitizendigest.blogspot.com/2011/04/proverbs-for-legislators.html" style="color: #9e5205;">PROVERBS FOR LEGISLATORS</a></h3><div><br />
</div><div class="post-header"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-2472970436290463535"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b>PROVERBS FOR LEGISLATORS</b></span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1. Law is a necessary evil.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2. Pass as few laws as possible, consistent with the demands of justice and the maintenance of order.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3. Where custom is sufficient, there is no need for law.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4. Do not pass laws that cannot, or will not, be enforced, for such breed contempt for both the law and the State.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">5. Penalties must be minimally sufficient to deter infractions, given adequate enforcement. Less renders the law ineffective; more inflicts unnecessary pain.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">6. There is an inverse proportion between the severity necessary to deter infractions and the certainty of punishment.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">7. Enshrine your principles in constitutions, codify your common sense in laws, and leave the rest to regulation.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">8. Even more than on your wisdom, the legitimacy of the State depends on your integrity.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">9. In public life, integrity requires not only an honest heart but an honest face.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">10. Your primary object must always be not the satisfaction of your constituents but the continued legitimacy of the State, for upon that depends the welfare, even the survival, of us all.</span><div style="clear: both;"></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="color: #444444; font-size: 9px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
<div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-2"><span class="post-labels"></span></div><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-3"></div></div></div></div><div id="latency-2472970436290463535"></div><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" style="margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="" name="4005342214977654965" style="color: #de7008;"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="color: #9e5205; font: normal normal bold 194%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://thecitizendigest.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-country-my-vote-k-mathew-thomas.html" style="color: #9e5205;">MY COUNTRY - MY VOTE. K Mathew Thomas</a></h3><div><br />
</div><div class="post-header"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4005342214977654965"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b><u>VOTING OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO MY </u></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><b><u>COUNTRY AND MY STATE</u></b></span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As I exercise my precious right to vote conferred on me by my country and authors of its constitution to choose a person to represent me and my brethren, I take this oath of allegiance to my COUNTRY and my STATE in the interests of its stability, security, progress and prosperity.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for an Indian, born in India of Indian parents, as I will not sacrifice and compromise the security of my country and sell its interests to external elements and on this I will never be influenced either by inducement or by threat of any nature.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not have any link with external elements and not lead and guided by citizens of foreign origin who, I am intelligent enough to understand will never be loyal to this country as patriotism can never be shared between countries of different continents and those who row in single on different boats do not care either for its safety or aim an ultimate destination.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that proved its mettle in the past and my judgment will be based on character, performance, loyalty to the nation and its people, proved beyond suspicion while in power as different from loyalty to self, proved beyond doubt in the past by amassing wealth for the family and position for the leaders and their wards.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not have any link with any other parties in power in neighbouring States who choke me and my brethren denying us the right of existence by cutting off basic vitals as water which Mother Nature has kindly bestowed on all of us to share for mutual prosperity.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not distinguish me and my brethren by region, religion, castes, gender, majority, minority and any other human imposed divisions that can endanger the integrity and communal harmony of my country.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that believe in true secularism and not coloured and tainted secularism defined solely to trap the voters in political interests dividing people on communal lines that can injure the nation and lay it beyond mend. I will never vote for opportunistic secularists who after enjoying power and its fruits for several years wear false secular masks and colours at the fag end of their term and ditch the hands that reared them.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">8.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not encourage political feudalism where opponents within are just zeroes and family zeros are artificially inflated and stationed in different regions promoting anarchy while crafting them to take over reins without character on feudalistic lines exploiting a leaf licking gentry within.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">9.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that has stability in its agenda and discipline within and will not explode into pieces when it comes to a destiny forced power struggle where self proclaimed leaders and wards fight themselves and perish.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">10.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that gives due respect and honour to women as I believe women hood is to be venerated for all that is good in us, among us and around us and can be equaled only to our love for our MOTHER COUNTRY, whose destiny we decide by intelligently choosing our representatives in its protection without any consideration that is alien to us but not alien to those without character and morals. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">11.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that respects Mother Nature and the clean environment it provides to us to live in health and happiness and is committed to its upkeep to the maximum possible extent in spite of all the man made pollution. I rate environment pollution as damaging as the political pollution that eats up our country slowly and steadily like a cancer virus.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">12.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that is committed to bringing in prosperity all around us and be a role model as a leader to others in our country while making sincere efforts to draw respects and admiration universally which is vital for our growth. As I take the ballot paper in my hand I will close my eyes for a second and on it I will visualize in my inner self my mother, my brethren, my country and its security and tear off the imageof division, destruction and other sinful images that can belittle and harm my mother who gave birth to me and my mother country that sustains me. I understand that an intelligent discretion is called for on me to identify and sift sin from honour and honour only honour. I pray God to give me strength of character and not blind my vision from seeing things in its true colours.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">GOD SAVE MY COUNTRY</span></div><div style="clear: both;"></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="color: #444444; font-size: 9px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-1"><span class="post-author vcard">P</span><span class="post-backlinks post-comment-link"></span></div><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-2"><span class="post-labels"></span></div><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-3"></div></div></div></div><div id="latency-4005342214977654965"></div><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" style="margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="" name="4700037709753814855" style="color: #de7008;"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="color: #9e5205; font: normal normal bold 194%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://thecitizendigest.blogspot.com/2011/04/citizens-voting-creed-k-mathew-thomas.html" style="color: #9e5205;">THE CITIZEN’S VOTING CREED - K Mathew Thomas</a></h3><div><br />
</div><div class="post-header"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4700037709753814855"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Those who stay away from the election think that one vote will do no good: </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">'Tis but one step more to think one vote will do no harm.” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">Ralph Waldo Emerson</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-size: medium;">THE CITIZEN’S VOTING CREED</span></b></div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">A. Vote for a party with whom national security and interests are safe</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">B. Vote for a party led by an Indian</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">C. Vote for a party that respects all religions and the integrity of the country</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">D. Vote for a party that can maintain communal harmony</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">E. Vote for a party that does not promote family interests</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">F. Vote for a party that will not perish on family feuds</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">G. Vote for a party that has no Sars and Bird flu combination</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">H. Vote for a party that brought to you prosperity through all-round progress</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">I. Vote for a party that is God fearing and committed to lead the State to the No.1 position through better planning and sheer hard work.</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">J. Vote for a party that has initiated voluminous good work so that it can complete it for future prosperity</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">K. Vote for a party that will not perish on political turmoil</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">L. Vote for a party that can provide able leadership with a commitment to lead the nation to prosperity and finally</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">M. Vote for a leader who believes in Nationalism, spirituality and Humanitarianism.</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">N. Vote for a leader who has no personal or family interests in mind</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">O. Vote for a leader who is committed to the welfare of the people</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">P. Vote for a leader who proved that discipline can be enforced in governance</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">Q. Vote for a leader who put a stop to ugly religious practices like animal sacrifice and burying and suffocating innocent children</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">R. Vote for a leader that made Temples to look after the poor by feeding them</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">S. Vote for a leader who believe in progress and prosperity</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">T. Vote for a leader who brought in people oriented administration</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">U. Vote for a leader whose heart is with people welfare programmes</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">V. Vote for a leader with a proven record of standing by the people in distress</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">W. Vote for a leader who are committed to the welfare and dignity of Indian women</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">X. Vote for a leader who is relatively young but mature enough to steer the state safely and wisely</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">Y. Vote for a God fearing leader with a progressive outlook that can put the State into the path of progress</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;">Z. Vote for a leader with no biased outlook in life and look at people with a feeling of brotherhood.</div><div style="color: #351c75; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“There is an election going on all the time... </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">the Lord votes for you and Satan votes against you, </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">and you must cast the deciding vote.” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(unknown)</span></div><br />
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<div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-2"><span class="post-labels"></span></div><div class="post-footer-line post-footer-line-3"></div></div></div></div><div id="latency-4700037709753814855"></div><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" style="margin-bottom: 30px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="" name="6566129629854963888" style="color: #de7008;"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" style="color: #9e5205; font: normal normal bold 194%/normal Trebuchet, 'Trebuchet MS', Arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://thecitizendigest.blogspot.com/2011/04/to-vote-is-my-citizenship-obligation.html" style="color: #9e5205;">TO VOTE IS MY CITIZENSHIP OBLIGATION</a></h3><div class="post-header"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6566129629854963888"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Vote is my right as a citizen</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To vote is my citizenship obligation</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To oust stale human objects from power is what God wants me to do </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To bring in a great leader is my mission</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That noble mission is also the one I live for</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let me bring cheer and care to my brethren - </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">K. Mathew Thomas</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pause a minute</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pose yourself for a reflection</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You lived past under the present regime</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Look around!</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Did it deliver the goods?</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Are they men of character?</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Are they able administrators? </span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Are they people friendly or people hostile?</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Think and bring in the best you choose in the field.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;">K. Mathew Thomas</span></span></div></div></div></div></div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-52306023235743039852011-03-11T11:35:00.000+05:302011-03-11T11:35:03.002+05:30AISH OVERSHADOWS ABHISHEK and what else!?! SHOB<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;"></span><br />
<div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 17px;"><u style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">AISH OVERSHADOWS ABHISHEK and what else!?!</span></span></u></b></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">For those who are contemplating writing articles, here is directive...</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Consider these topics...</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">“Aish overshadows Abhishek”...</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Will Manisha’s marriage last?</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">These are great topics to start writing about.</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Then there are lot more like these -</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">“Did Ms. X really snap Mr. Y on the sets?”</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">“On the wedding day of Mr. Y, we take a quick look of all his women he deserted earlier.”</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">“Readers are invited to guess how long this affair will last” so on and on...</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">There are several profits in taking such topics to write...</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">First it catches the eye of the viewer. If you were just going through, you really start to READ.</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Didn’t you?</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Second, you can vent your illogical animosity on well-known people. It costs nothing.</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Then, though it may not have (immediate) effect, hopefully, it creates a stir.</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">And top of all, nothing else has been really interesting than to read what celebrities do – what they wear, where they buy stuff, who design their outfits, who their hair stylists are and a lot more.</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">But these are not enough; you need to really pry into their privacy. It is important to know who broke up with whom. If nothing is happening and everything seems cool, then its time for the writers to DO something. They can create ideas in people’s minds. Some useful ideas, useful both to those who read the news and those who are the news!</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Of course, then is when you can write something about almost everything, irrespective of</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">whether you know enough about it to write about it, whether what you are saying is true, and most important whether what you are saying is useful to the receivers. </span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">Dont think, just write and you will be amazed at the results. The news can come a great round; who knows, you may end up getting a different version of the same news from your colleague at the lunch table. </span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;">However, be prepared... If some society conscious humanitarian asks you why you choose to write on such topics, you could either say, you decided to dedicate your life to enlighten people with the most important things that they ought to know or just say, with a dramatic hand gesture, "you know, it is difficult to sell good things, even if they are for free. We write what people like to read".</span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20px;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes, Intelligent are those creativists (read writers, producers and tv shows/movie directors), who successfully create what they can successfully sell, which would now include YOU!</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">So, what are you waiting for...?</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 17px;"><u style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;"><br style="line-height: 15px;" /></span></u></b></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 17px;"><u style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">PS</span></span></u></b><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">: Please do not read the following paragraph - </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;"><br style="line-height: 15px;" /></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">One day one fellow met the great philosopher and said, "Do you know what I just heard about your friend?". "Hold on a minute," Socrates replied. "Before telling me anything I'd like you to pass a little test. It's called the Triple Filter Test.". "Triple filter?". "That's right," Socrates continued. "Before you talk to me about my friend, it might be a good idea to take a moment and filter what you're going to say. That's why I call it the triple filter test. The first filter is Truth. Have you made absolutely sure that what you are about to tell me is true?" "No," the man said, "actually I just heard about it and...". "All right," said Socrates. "So you don't know if it's true or not. Now let's try the second filter, the filter of Goodness. Is what you are about to tell me about my friend something good?" . "No, on the contrary...". "So," Socrates continued, "you want to tell me something bad about him, but you're not certain it's true. You may still pass the test though, because there's one filter left: the filter of Usefulness. Is what you want to tell me about my friend going to be useful to me?" "No, not really."</span></span></i></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 17px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;"><br style="line-height: 15px;" /></span></i></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><i style="font-style: italic; line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;">"Well," concluded Socrates, "if what you want to tell me is neither true nor good nor even useful, why tell it to me at all?</span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 14px;">"</span></i></div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-10826681593863877602011-02-21T15:32:00.000+05:302011-02-21T15:32:11.484+05:30WHAT YOUR MOTHER MEANS TO YOU - A tribute to my mother -<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">This is a true account of an incident that happened 57 years ago - in 1954 between the months of May and June - with its impact still active on me. I wish to share with the readers to show what a MOTHER means to one in life and how she shapes the character and attitude of her children.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">In 1954 I completed my graduation and I was keen to take up a job to support my family that was in dire straits because of limited family income from the sole earnings of my father a Christian priest. My father’s job was such that outside we were to keep a high profile with a low income that would just suffice to keep the wolf away from the door. He had to borrow heavily from others to pay for the educational expenses of his three sons and a daughter. I ran the errands for loans and I had to face very humiliating situations many a time. Schools and College Managements were not devilishly commercialised then. The High School fee was around Rs.50/- a year and the College fee was Rs.15/- or so per month. My mother showed her real mettle and she managed the situation brilliantly - from procuring firewood to extracting rice out of raw paddy to cooking food and serving to the satisfaction of all. After my graduation my parents had great expectations that I would contribute to the family well-being and I wanted to live up to it. My father being a tolerant Christian priest enjoyed great influence with parishioners and among our Hindu brethren in the locality. To procure a job, I pinpointed a particular person - a grand old man who was the family patriarch of a rich family. One of the members of the family - a humble God fearing graceful person - was running a small industry in Madras suburbs. I requested my father to go and meet the person and request a recommendation for a job in the Madras factory. I was qualified because during annual college holidays in previous years I had mastered typewriting and could use a typewriter very well and fast. The person agreed and accordingly wrote a letter to the owner of the Madras factory. Prompt came the reply. He would provide me with a job if I mastered in shorthand and typewriting. Shorthand was Greek to me and I requested the person to write to Madras to take me in and I would master shorthand soon while working. He refused. He curtly told me that he would not write as writing would mean hurting the business person if he could not oblige and can result in his closing on his occasional visits to him. He was right. But that was also closing a hope that was kindled in me. It was too much for me to bear and I remained silent for some time. Then I bade good-bye to the grand old man and came out. I went into brooding and with the limited knowledge on life I had at that age I saw everything dark around me. I did not talk to any one; replied to questions in fewer words and always retired to sit on a giant log kept at the Church premises. This continued for two days and my mother saw that something was amiss in me. Once sitting on the log she came to me and sat next to me and asked me in a soft voice what was wrong with me. I cried and told her what had happened in my search for employment. She held me close to her and kissed on my forehead and in a soft controlled voice she said; “Believe in God, He has some better plans reserved for you”. I was very affectionate to my mother and my brothers and sister used to call me ‘Mother’s Pet’. As she retreated I wiped off my tears and followed her. And that chapter was off my mind. But look, how my God had led me to my destination.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Later on my father’s recommendation I got a job in an Advertising Agency in Kottayam in Travancore, now a part of Kerala. By this time my elder brother migrated to Bombay. The Advertisement Agency closed for want of business and my brother called me to Bombay where I got a job as an Accounts Assistant in the Office of a large Pharmaceutical factory. In a short span through dedicated hard work, I jumped all the Seniors and Experienced to become the Office Supervisor of the establishment. I was aggressive. I wanted to reach higher with more income to look after my family. I succeeded. I joined the Sales Department of one of leading multinationals of the world. I wanted to reach higher. Collecting all the relevant details through directories and books, I prepared a ‘Market Survey Report’ for consumer products in Kerala. It was appreciated by the Management. When a vacancy arose in Madras covering all the Southern States, I was assigned to that job. In this position: </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">1. I had called on the Madras Company, holding a much respectable and responsible position, which by now had become a Corporate giant in their field, </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">2. I had interacted with most of its Directors in a group representing my company,</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">3. I rose to a very high position in my company in course of time which I could not have equalled had I received a job in 1954 in that company,</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">4. I secured enough financial stability to comfortably look after my parents and my siblings from 1956 onwards, </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">5. I earned more and more through hard work and His Grace, that enabled me to buy my own factory in Madras where my GOOD AND GRACEFUL TENANT is a family enterprise of the Madras Industrialist, a GRACEFUL PERSON who is no more. My tenant till this day does not know about the story. Unbelievable, you feel! But it happened. My mother prayed for me and God could not escape rewarding me with His blessings. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Between 1954 and 2004, I had faced crisis after crisis in my life. At the height of each crisis my mother’s advice reflects in my mind: I hear her soft, soothing voice of wisdom and I leave the crisis to take its course. Many a time I found it was disastrous to me, but what was disastrous to me then turned out to my good ultimately.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06;">TO ME, A MOTHER IS THE HOLIEST AMONG ALL HOLY INSTITUTIONS, THE BEST FRIEND, GUIDE AND PHILOSOPHER IN OUR LIFE; MOST SUPPORTIVE AND UNDERSTANDING IN DIFFICULT TIMES; AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF GOD-GIFTED WISDOM, A PILLAR OF STRENGTH TO LEAN ON AND AN OCEAN FULL OF LOVE AND AFFECTION.</span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Unbelievable, you feel! But it happened. My mother prayed for me and God could not escape rewarding me with His blessings. BE GOOD, FOR GOD TO BE GOOD.</span>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-3326397554714940182011-02-13T21:39:00.000+05:302011-02-13T21:39:12.121+05:30Bearing the loads - What a paradox!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWOz7xkzQ5Qn3EKXGB3nc3i9t9GvO243nTYlLkGuoYmP27xR_VoA4MGTpr2BCTRpMkfJNdVPeo3NF_lYpn2rBgdIHZN_KbBEQ86t8n_WLdiHcbD00qkTo0u-37qmMD6ZJqQom7tfZiFAhj/s1600/untitled.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWOz7xkzQ5Qn3EKXGB3nc3i9t9GvO243nTYlLkGuoYmP27xR_VoA4MGTpr2BCTRpMkfJNdVPeo3NF_lYpn2rBgdIHZN_KbBEQ86t8n_WLdiHcbD00qkTo0u-37qmMD6ZJqQom7tfZiFAhj/s640/untitled.GIF" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75"
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o:title="test33"/> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-39988037290996587632011-02-06T08:10:00.000+05:302011-02-06T08:10:06.779+05:30A GREAT LOVE STORY - BY K. Mathew Thomas<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">(The story presented below is the development of love between a Hindu & Muslim culminating in their marriage with the blessings of their parents and the death of the husband in a communal riot, leaving the spouse to look after the only child. Please read the rest </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">...)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b45f06; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">A LOVE STORY</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">(A story of lofty love, remembrance and commitment</span></b></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"> to life narrated in first person)</span></b></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">My heart bristles with the vibrations of love; a sublime love that was sown in me in 1974 to be exact. It was love to a physical reality that surrendered his whole being to me and involuntarily martyred his life, unaware of an unknown cause for unknown reasons. It is still love in all its intensity to a noble soul that continues to live and bloom in me and enrich my whole being with sweet memories of the happy and wonderful days I spent with my man who was not ordinary by any standards of human relationship and life values</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">My memory goes back to the days when I met him in a public library. I was then a Research Fellow in Indian Classical Dance Forms. Books on this topic were hard to come-by. I was literally scanning the entire collections on Indian Art Classics. I could manage one. I just got it entered and came out when this young man – his attire partially wet – passed by me. He was tall, handsome and with his chiseled features and royal gait he was the ultimate persona of any girl's dream. Being in my late teens and brought up in a Muslim family with a rare broad social outlook, his sight did make an impact in me, but I just left it at that. It was raining cats and dogs outside literally and left with no means to leave, I stood alone cursing the rain. I saw this young man coming out holding a few bulky books and stood by my side for some time. In my inner mind I was craving to talk to him; but I controlled myself. When the rain eased he looked at me smiling and offered to give me a lift to my destination. I looked at him for a few seconds and convinced myself of his intention. I accepted his offer and took from him the books he was carrying. He ran out in the light rain and brought his small red sedan to the portico as close to the place I was standing. He came out, took all the books I was holding and opened the front door for me. I got in smiling thanking him for his kind gesture.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">It was still raining. The music system was on in the car. To its accompaniment was the soothing sound of the rain falling on the glass panes. During the sojourn we talked for some time and he enquired about my family, my vocation, my interests and in detail of my progress in my Research on Indian Classical Dances. I could see his face glow when I told him that I was interested in classical music too which I was studying at home under a known Classical Music Master. He shared with me his passion for light music and the stage events he participated and the accolades he received from the listeners for his rendering style. He was a man of few words and most of his expressions were confined to a few bewitching smiles that made vibrations in my psyche, which I concealed skillfully. Much to my chagrin the sweet journey came to a halt. He stopped the car in front of my house. He came out, opened the door and handed over my book to me and gave out his name as Kiran. I invited him in for a cup of coffee, which he politely declined with the same enchanting smile and excused himself saying he was in a hurry to reach his home. He gave me his card and agreed to avail of my coffee offer at a day later. My mother was at the door. She saw Kiran dropping me and enquired about him. I told her that Kiran gave me a lift to reach home in the rain. I went further forgetting myself for a minute. I told her that never in my life I had met such a person who was an embodiment of intelligence, decency and dignity. She was pleased, but she kept quiet. I retired to my study room; but I could not concentrate on anything. Events unrolled in my mind screen – the time I spent in the car; his expressions, his enquiries about my studies and above all his hypnotic smile to which my entire being surrendered voluntarily. He was the man of my dream, the man with whom I wanted to live this life. My imagination ran amuck and I shaped him the way I liked to suit my whims and fancies of my future. Kiran belonged to a different religion; so what, I asked myself. He was distant to conservatism and orthodoxy. He was, as I observed was brought up in a progressive outfit, so was I, I thought. My family outlook was in identity with his. It did not identify humanity with narrow religious chains and bonds, the creation of men with vested interests. To that extent our family was isolated, but we were role models to the liberals belonging to all religions.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Came dinnertime, the time for sharing our day's thoughts and events. My parents and I made our small family. I was called in from my room. The hangover of the sweet moments I was with Kiran in his car had not yet left me free. I joined my parents for dinner. My father to whom my mother had talked about the boy asked for the details and what transpired during the day. My parents were different. We were not accustomed to shock and dismay on events turning the way we did not like. I gave my parents a good account of the events of the day with even finer details and the way the boy conducted himself during the journey. In my enthusiasm, half way the dinner I rushed to my room and brought Kiran's card and handed it over to my father. He glanced over it. It contained the name and residential address of Kiran. "Oh! He's Shankar's son, Kiran! "I know well his family. Shankar is my good old friend and my college mate! We did the Engineering finals together". I went back to my study room. My heart was still throbbing of the rosy memories of the day. I retired to bed to forget and sleep, but could not till midnight. A beaming Kiran and his soft voice haunted me in my dreams. I thought that the intensity will bane away as time passed; but that wan not to happen. The next day was another day of intense feeling towards Kiran. It was dinnertime again. Modesty calls for certain amount of control of the mind; but I could not; such was my longing to see Kiran again. "Dad, I want to see Kiran again. Shall we not invite his family home? No outbursts; no explosion; none expected; none happened. "Why Not? Here is a good chance to renew my friendship with him. We will of course invite them for dinner." My father said.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">My father did act. The three-member family was with us for dinner the very next day. My heart beat high when I saw Kiran. He looked dazzling in his pale coloured Indian attire. Tears of happiness were rolling down my cheek. Kiran noticed it; but kept quiet. He accompanied me to my study room before dinner and he enquired about Indian Classical dance, Music and in detail about the Research resources. He went through some of the books he found lined on the shelf. Time was ticking past. I did not want that, but I was helpless. Dinner over, the family courteously took leave of us. Kiran's mother called me to her and affectionately embraced me. This time too, my eyes filled with tears. Kiran's parents took note of it. Kiran, before leaving, called me to his side and assured me that we would in future meet and talk more often. I was relieved. It happened. Kiran kept his promise. We used to call one another quite often within the full knowledge of our parents. We used to roam in the beach, the park, the libraries, museums and tourist spots nearby. I enjoyed the bliss of friendship and the company of an intellectual. The loneliness we felt in our homes in the absence of siblings in each one of our families was more than compensated. He used to sing his own composing to me in his fine soft voice, which was sweetest to my ears. Time went past fast. Two years just passed by. We both completed our Doctorate in our respective fields and soon took up job in two local colleges.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Another year passed by. It was a Diwali day. As was the practice Kiran's father came home personally and invited us to celebrate Diwali along with them. When all of us were together Shankar took my father for a private conversation and was closeted with him for a few minutes. They came out with a beaming smile and asked all of us to wait for happy news. Happy news! What can it be, I thought for a second. Shankar started: "Convinced that we are one and all of us think alike we have decided on the marriage of Kiran and Sehra. It should take place soon." For the first time I saw Kiran in an ecstasy. He ran to me, raised my hand and gently kissed on the palm in the presence of his parents. I was never an extrovert and tears in abundance were flowing from my eyes out of joy. Both of us in accordance with Hindu custom knelt before our parents who blessed us for a purposeful married life. To our parents and us, marriage was purely a personal subject and we did not want it to be sanctified by a society mired by evil thoughts and seclusions. We had the courage and the marriage was registered to the chagrin of those in the extreme.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">When our life took a new turn to live together we did resolve to stick to certain basic guidelines. We decided that the children born to us would not be subjected to any particular religious guidelines or norms. They would be guided in the right path respecting all the good in all the religions and its teachings and will have a broader outlook in all issues related to life and its values.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Two more years' ran past. It was a magnificent relationship based on mutual understanding, adjustment, accommodation and consideration. Marriage had not reduced an iota of our mutual love and admiration. Kiran used to help me in my work, admire my innovations and appreciate my achievements. He had encouraged me to participate in classical dance and music concerts. He sat along with me in developing new forms in classical dances. Kiran was always by my side when he was free from his work. There was no lessening of our going out together and it continued as in the past. In fact the intensity and genuineness of our love and passion has never come down. During our married life we were never separated even for a single day as Kiran used to accompany me even during my concerts. Every day ended with my thanks giving prayers to the Lord for gifting me such bliss in my married life through my Kiran.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">My married life flowered. I was diagnosed of pregnancy. For the second time I found Kiran in an ecstasy. He bodily lifted me high and kissed me all over continuously for minutes together. He was crying out of joy. He rested his head over my shoulders and embraced me tight. I wiped away his tears of joy and wished myself to merge in him. God has blessed me with such a loving husband, I thought. Bless him with eternal life, I prayed, for such a person as Kiran will never again be born. But that was not to be. Evil eliminates the good. So Kiran had to go. Kiran indeed did go.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">It was the sixth month of my pregnancy. There was a sacrilege committed in a place of worship. Soon there was mob fury. Humanity lined up with their brand names. They lined up against one another and faith was the dividing line. There was total chaos and violence. Many lost life in the violence leaving pain and orphans behind. The old, children and women fled the scene fearing for their lives. A public meeting was called for in the interest of Communal Harmony. Kiran, an authority on humanitarian sciences was invited to be a speaker. He made a sensible speech in the meeting and argued for communal harmony in the interests of humanity and nation. He stressed that there should not be a dividing line in humanity itself. He paid a price for his advice – yes, with his own life. Driving alone in his friend's car, returning at night after the speech he was stopped by self claimed Deputies of God who torched the car. Only his groans could be heard outside amidst the noise of the men who went amok. His carcass lay charred in the car. His ever-smiling face was gone forever and in its place was a black battered skull. The vocal cord of his soft, sweet voice was consumed by fire. The spring that inspired my life and the stream of his soft, gentle voice that soothed my being and enlivened my spirit was no more there. The barbarian of a terrorist stole me of my guiding spirit, who loved me and lived for me. My lover's passion for life was terminated in the middle. Communal violence had extinguished a noble, loving soul forever.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">I did not cry when in the middle of night I was informed of Kiran's murder. I could not. I was stunned and shocked for hours. During these hours Kiran was with me in my mind and took complete possession of me. He advised me to be bold and face the reality. He asked me to pray for better sense to prevail on religious fanatics. His face appeared solemn and calm. There was no streak of vengeance in his voice, but appeared concerned about the future of the baby in my womb. "Duty first Sehra; take good care of the baby; you can do it, Sehra " was his parting message. I woke up from the delirium. His body was brought in, covered. I insisted on seeing his face against constant refusals from all. The cover was removed. I wanted to see the end reality and result of the ugly face of communalism in its charred state. "Misguided elements", I thought. "Lord, guide them right" was my prayer. The life lost was not of a tagged individual but of a man who was the embodiment of all human virtues who even in his last speech asked the people to follow their religion in its true spirit guided by a humanitarian approach untwisted from the directions of vested interests. His approach to life was serious, practical and above all humane. His body was cremated for a second time; first people of his own caste without knowing his communal identity burnt him inside his car to serve for a religious cause. The next cremation was a religious ritual. I do not know at whom to laugh; the inventors of religion that fragments humanity or the herds that religiously follow religion and build up passion to destroy humanitarian values. Lord, restore in them the right sense to discern the right from the wrong.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">The cremation over, I returned with our parents, in Kiran's red sedan. It started raining. Perhaps the nature was shedding its tears at the ignorance of men and my loss. Raindrops were flowing through glass panes. My memory went back to our first meeting in the library, the car journey, the soft music and his dropping me in my house. No strength left in me to cry! Still I exploded and cried. His voice reverberated in me "control yourself; you can, Sehra". The baby in me was full of vibrations and I controlled myself. The rain was still in full strength when I went inside my bedroom. It intensified further and there was lightning followed by ear breaking thunder one after another. I opened the shelf and took out our wedding photograph and kissed my Kiran a hundred time crying, letting out all that was suppressed in me, till I sat down exhausted on the chair. I did not rest. I knelt down holding my arms on his chair making promises after promises that I would live down his legacy and bring up our baby the way he would like it to be. I washed my face and in the mirror my reflection was that of a person hardly resembling me. Such was the damage, Kiran's death has caused to me. I went in for my regular reading. The lightning, the thunder and the rain now stopped.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">I continued my stay with Kiran's parents. I preferred seclusion for long hours so that I can see hallucinations of Kiran talking to me and comforting me quite often. Kiran's parents took adequate care of my needs and me. I was taken for regular check-ups. Sitting alone some times, I used to break down thinking of the man who was my life and tears flowing down my cheeks. Several times Kiran's mother used to rush to me and wipe my tears, consoling me. She advised me to face life realities boldly as none could escape from it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Months passed by and I became the proud mother of a cherubic baby girl, the newborn additional link between my lost Kiran and me. I quietly mourned the fact that Kiran was not by my side to share this new found joy.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Years passed by. Life became normal. The devastation it had on me subsided. My career and my concerts continued. My voice and my dance forms mellowed. Kiran's parents were always by my side when I needed help. Financially we were affluent. Besides Kiran and I used to save part of our earnings to be self-reliant and take care of ourselves in case of an emerging emergency. Years again went past. My little baby girl grew up. I was always at her side when she needed help and guidance. I guided her in the right directions and taught her to be independent in outlook and thoughts and express herself without fear when she was convinced of a cause. It all worked well with her.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">I encouraged her to take part in athletics and she won laurels for the school. I taught her classical dance and music and she excelled in it. She ranked first in education as well as in all curricular activities. She was the darling of the school with the leadership qualities I inculcated in her. I took comfort in seeing in her all the qualities I admired in her father. What a gem of a man, her father was. I taunted him intentionally to see him in anger. He was never seen angry. At times I envied his qualities that made him special to me. What a loving relationship we had! Each time I received an appreciation of my daughter's qualities, I downgraded myself and in my presence was the towering image of her father, my Kiran. At bedtime I used to picture him in my mind; his most loving face; his contagious smile and the soft voice he was noted for. I pictured myself sitting beside him in his car and looking beyond answering his queries on Classical Dances. What a life of splendor it was. That was lost forever. How sad it was that he was plucked of from me at the prime of our life by fanatic sadists in the name of religion. Who can compensate my loss? What exactly was the volume of my loss? Why he had to pay with his life for a cause that was dear to humanity? Who can compensate and who can substitute for such an irreparable loss of a great human being?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">My daughter stood first in the State in her final examination. She ranked top in the Professional Entrance Examination too. She opted for a medical career. I didn't have to tell her that choosing medicine was not for amassing wealth, but to serve the less fortunate, suffering humanity. It was her priority. She started participating in state level athletics and was always a winner in events she participated. Encomiums were pouring in. I always attributed without reservation, all her success to Kiran's indirect influence on her upbringing. She was the pride of her alma mater. When she completed her internship, she brought to me a poem written by her titled "LOVE". She asked me "What do you think of love, Mom" I could read her mind. She was at it. I had neither reservation nor hesitation to answer her. At near her age I was in feelings of deep love. I called her to sit by my side. Kiran came in my mind with his captivating smile. "Tell me, Shreya, are you in love with anyone", I asked her. I can't answer, Mom, I have some strange feelings of proximity in my mind with one Anoop. Can you call it love?" "Shreya, wait, don't rush, study the man and come to me later. There is nothing wrong in loving a person or feeling closer to one. But the man is important. First settle well in your profession." "But he is a Christian, Mom", Shreya said. "Shreya, look here, your father was a Hindu and I am a Muslim! What is your religion? Tell me. When in deep love, you have to throw that rubbish out" I advised my daughter. I enquired about Anoop and his family. Anoop was a cricketer of eminence at the national level and his father was a Lt. Colonel in the Army. Shreya used to talk to me about her meetings with Anoop and what she thought about him. Two more years passed by. Shreya settled well in her profession serving the needy. Her earning from her profession was practically nothing. I thanked God for gifting me such a wonderful child. She was happy with her profession as it benefited others more than her interests just the way we wanted it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Time again ticked fast. The time has come to think of Shreya's marriage. I called her by my side. I asked her about her love for Anoop. "It is still in me in all its intensity. I love Anoop. He is waiting for a nod from you, Mom". "I will take care of it, Shreya. I understand your feelings for him" There I stopped. She left for her clinic.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">I discussed the entire matter with Kiran's parents first and then with my parents. They had neither reservations nor objections. "If it is okay for Anoop's parents, it is ok for us too". Anoop's father was contacted over the phone to fix up a time. Anoop's parents volunteered to come over to our place. "A rare magnanimous gesture", we thought. They dropped in. Shreya and I were asked to be present. In military language, a bomb exploded. They were aware of the love sometime ago and were wondering what happened. "Better late than never" Anoop's father said. Our family background was explained to them in detail. "Look, I am an army man. Religion is secondary in my life style. If I have a religion, it is the religion of humanity where values of life are more important than anything else. Ah! Religion. Throw it to the nearest Garbage Bin," he thundered. "I want Shreya to be my daughter, no other considerations, Agreed?" Anoop's mother said. I was happy, so was Shreya and all others. The marriage date was fixed. Without ostentations the marriage was registered with friends and near relatives. I looked around and l could see Kiran's presence amongst us beaming with joy.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Marriage over, it was time for Shreya to leave us for her spouse's house. She came to me and I was in her deep embrace for minutes. She held me tight. Tears were flowing from her eyes without any let up. I consoled her saying that this is the law of nature and that we have to gracefully obey it. She did not utter a single word. In fact she could not. I found her holding her breath and controlling herself from bursting out. I kissed her a hundred times on her face and she released her arms and departed looking back at me a number of times as she entered the car,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">Shreya left me, as per human law and the law of nature. Now I have none to share my grief, my feelings and my happiness. Shreya was on the anvil of building up a new life. I was confident that Anoop and his parents would take good care of her as had happened in my case. Shreya was brought up that way molding her character the way Kiran wanted it to be.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;">"I returned to my bedroom. I looked at the framed picture of Kiran on the wall; that solemn smiling face over and over again. I stood in front of the picture for some time. I felt losing my control over self. I felt weak and tired. I took the picture from the wall and held it close on to my chest for a few minutes. I showered kisses on Kiran's face continuously and cried between sobs "I did my duty Kiran, I did my duty Kiran, yes, the way you wanted it to be done" I leaned on to the wall and sat slowly resting my back on the wall. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as if there was no end to it. Outside it was heavy rain, to the accompaniment of lightning and thunder. Raindrops were rolling down on the glass panes. I could see in my mind, Kiran coming to me in his wet attire. He comforted me, and congratulated me for bringing up Shreya the way he wanted. He kissed me over and over again and tears were dropping from his eyes. His advice this time was different. "Learn to live adapting yourself to changing and challenging situations. Living is an art of a different dimension. Master it as far as you can. I am in you and I am with you because our love is eternal"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 14px;"><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Written by</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> K. Mathew Thomas</span></span>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-87971572552546097082011-01-16T20:15:00.000+05:302011-01-16T20:15:41.617+05:30HOMAGE TO A LOVING WIFE - BOUQUET TO A DEPARTED MOTHER<div class="MsoTitle" style="font-family: arial; text-align: center;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-size: large;">HOMAGE TO A LOVING WIFE</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">1990 June - time, around 8 in the night - a distress voice from the kitchen! My three daughters and I rushed in. My wife Leela, fumbled and fainted in my hands. My daughters started crying. I was in real quandary! On one side I have to console my daughters and on the other I had to nurse her to consciousness! I poured cold water all over her and in a few minutes' time she was back to recovery. That was the beginning of a two year-old ordeal for a family that was earlier too limping solving issues after issues.<br />
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She was managing a five-member strength family all alone doing cleaning, cooking and washing besides helping children in their studies being a trained graduate teacher who served different schools of repute in <st1:place>Northern India</st1:place> and Chennai. When she first conceived we decided that she resign and look after home as that was our priority. She did accordingly. So when she fainted I thought she was stressed too much and the burden of managing a home alone, could have caused it.<br />
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The next morning I took her to a hospital nearby and like any commercial hospital they wanted to observe her condition for three days. She was diagnosed of slight blood pressure after three days of close observation and was discharged on my paying a hefty bill. It made a dent on my purse. I did not need their luxurious comfort. Further I was staying only two minutes drive, away from the Five Star Care Home - you call it Hospital. O K, she was all right now and we were happy!<br />
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Managing a small industry alone and with all the trials and tribulations attached to it, I get tired after hours of slogging and when I reach Home, I go to bed as early as possible. On one night I woke up around <st1:time hour="0" minute="0">midnight</st1:time> and I found my wife reclining on a chair, gasping for breath. She assured me with a smile that there was nothing wrong with her and she would soon go back to bed once she felt sleepy. I was not convinced but with certain feelings of guilt, which now I experience, I say, I retired. I started observing her during nights and found that there was something wrong with her, which she did not want to share with us. On my persistence she agreed for consultations in the same hospital and the Doctor there asked her to stay there for a few days for further observation. When she was discharged the hospital advised her to go in for treatment for back-ache, which this time they found out after a few thousands of hard cash that went into the drain.<br />
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Without returning we went to the other Doctor - I should admit he was very courteous - and he fixed an <strong>inconvenient</strong> time for me in the morning for a treatment lasting over a fortnight. The treatment went on very well and we were assured that she was fit like a fiddle. The drain flooded but my tap became near-empty.<br />
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Look at our background! In my business due to low investment built up out of my humble savings I was the peon as well as the boss and around me I had only well-paid but irresponsible helpers. At home my wife was the servant maid, the mother, the wife and the teacher, all rolled into one. Both at home and business fronts we felt the pinch dearly and every thing was shaking under us. All my three children, deeply attached to the Mother - like any girl children - were constantly in tears at their mother's ill health and was praying to spare her life for them. They needed her.<br />
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When thing were returning to a shade of normalcy, Leela again showed symptoms of ill health as well as pain all over, particularly at the chest region. Once again the house was in sadness and concern. In the meantime an additional responsibility of preparing the children to go to the College fell on me although the Children were themselves attending to cooking and things like that. At that time we never had many gadgets and we had to toil hard to cook basic things. I could observe the pain Leela was undergoing by just looking at her face. On one day at <st1:time hour="0" minute="0">midnight</st1:time> seeing me coming out of the bathroom with a basin full of washed clothes, she broke down. I consoled her and said we did better and learned more by confronting a hostile life.<br />
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When the chest pain aggravated I took her again to the same Hospital. Breathing had by then become very difficult for her. She was admitted for a third time and on going through all the costly tests making use of all available gadgets in the hospital, she was found carrying enormous quantity of fluid in her lungs. The Doctors wondered how she could hide so much pain all those days. Leela was hiding the pain deliberately as she feared it would cause concern in us. She was taken to an emergency room and the fluid was drained out piercing her back with a syringe. She felt a little ease and after a day or two we returned home and thought the crisis was over.<br />
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Within a fortnight she was back to the same problem; another visit to the hospital; no tests this time, but the same treatment of draining out the accumulated fluids. We returned; but the problem was recurring and when this continued twice or thrice the Doctor suspected of Cancer in her. He advised us that she had to undergo a mini surgery for certain tests. I asked him to tell me what exactly the disease she was suspected of, but he remained silent. I asked all the nurses around me and they too would not reveal it. When she was taken to the Operation Theatre she looked diffident and till at the entrance of the room she was looking at me while I was walking by her side and she was firmly holding my hand. All my children were around me and I consoled them that she was taken for some minor tests to be conducted on her and they did not need to worry.<br />
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She was like any mother; a very loving and doting one and she lived for them sacrificing all her comforts. From the College the children will return straight to her and flock around her. I have seldom come across such a mother-daughters relationship although she used to scold them for even minor disobedience. But they were protected within her wings and to all their fair demands she yielded. I used to scold Leela in my own way and advised her against too much pampering which they might not experience normally in their married life.<br />
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Since my experience in the hospital field was limited I was waiting for her return, back to the room as it was only a minor surgery. None informed us otherwise! An hour or so we waited in all anxiety and when I enquired about her I was told that she could be seen in the post surgery ward. So I with my children rushed to the Ward and there I could see her sitting, reclining on a raised pillow. All of us went to her and she looked quite normal. But she had difficulty in speaking to us. We didn't want to disturb her and decided to return to the room. While taking a few steps back my second daughter Asha was showing uneasiness and was about to faint. I held her in my arms and called for medical help, which fortunately was available there itself. She was put on fluids and was lying on another bed just a few yards behind her mother. But the mother was innocently looking at the opposite direction unaware of what was happening behind her.<br />
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That moment I should say was the most painful, suspenseful and agonizing experience I ever had in my life. On one side a caring and loving mother in her sick bed just after surgery and on the other side her most affectionate daughter in another bed under treatment. I prayed that Leela should not look back to see all of us there and get alarmed of what was going on there. I was in deep suspense every second. Had she seen her daughter under treatment she would have rushed to be by her side. One will only understand if one imagines being in that position. I was shattered; so were my two other daughters.<br />
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The next day the Physician left a message that I should call on him at his room. I was in deep suspense. I went to him blocking all my natural emotions. The test results had by then reached him. He was in the midst of a group of people. When I asked the reason, he without any emotion – Doctors carry with them only profession-formed, frozen emotions – told me that my wife was suffering from Cancer. I stood motionless and broke down right there. My whole world was reeling around me. I just asked whether he could cure her of the disease. He said he would try – the formatted reply.<br />
<br />
I did not talk about the diagnosis to my children. They were hoping for the better. But one day, my first daughter Anu, smelled a fish after reading the medical reports on the table that Leela was suffering from Cancer. Somehow or other I managed the situation and I told her that it was only suspected. But how long one can hide the devil in the pocket?<br />
<br />
That night without a wink of sleep I was sitting beside my wife in the hospital bed. Looking at me and observing the pain reflected in my face she asked me what the Doctor had said in his room. I hid my emotions and said that there were only some minor problems with her. She was not convinced. 'Cancer'?, she asked. I just looked down and she understood. She said, 'Don't worry, we have to face life as it comes. I am the least worried. But I have my concerns over all of you". She was exceptionally bold throughout till her end and nearby I stood in awe worshipping her courage!<br />
<br />
In the meantime my daughters got a scent about the impending disaster and they cried and prayed that they needed her and she be spared. They started collecting all the names of Evangelists and started writing to each one of them seeking their prayers for her cure. They all assured them that nothing would happen to her as their prayers will stand by her and Jesus Christ would heal her.<br />
<br />
So there were a spate of dreams occurring to all of us in our disturbed sleep and we used to share our dreams with her to comfort her and assure her of positive recovery. One night I saw in my dream of a heavenly body pouring a few drops in a pond and my wife getting absolutely cured and looking heavenly beautiful. The next morning I told her of my dream and she in turn passed it over to our daughters. She really believed that something positive would happen to her.<br />
<br />
In the meantime she was referred to Adyar Cancer Hospital and the Doctor, a graceful lady told me that only a miracle could save her and miracles seldom happened'. Our hospital now had changed their attitude over us although we were promptly paying the bills without fail. The Doctor would never stop to talk to me and I had to run after him room by room to get some response. I told him to do whatever he wanted to save her and once to a query about the expense involved I said " I will sell even my last shirt to save her'. This term was not of my making, but I just copied what once my father said to a Doctor when my sister was seriously ill. What do we live for? We live for what God had entrusted with us to love and be loved, to care and be cared of, in our life!<br />
<br />
We were advised to take her to <st1:place><st1:placename>Tamilnadu</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Hospital</st1:placetype></st1:place> where a cancer specialist was available. It was far away in the suburb. She was admitted there and treatment for Ovarian Cancer started there. There the Doctors were very friendly, humble and helpful which I never had experienced before. They were very sincere and really wanted to help.<br />
<br />
They said a surgery would help and I nodded for it. Now with my experience I gained during that period I would never recommend spending for a surgery when the Cancer was in its secondary stage. No hospital or Doctor would ever give a guarantee of cure. Leela told me that she would not have any problem undergoing a second surgery, but told me firmly that it would be a sheer waste. To me and our children her life was the most coveted and precious one which we were not prepared to surrender and money did not play any part in it. It was secondary. The operation was initially fixed for a day and I never knew that it was to take place on our marriage anniversary day. She reminded me of this and I made a call to the Doctor and got it postponed to another date. She was again admitted for surgery in the Hospital. A day prior to that my sister-in-law who had come to be of help to her during the operation got a telegram that Leela's another sister who had just returned from <st1:country-region><st1:place>Nigeria</st1:place></st1:country-region> expired of heart attack. She said she had to go home on some excuses and she went. Leela was puzzled at her sudden departure, but fortunately did not put questions over it. We wanted the surgery to go on smoothly and we did not inform her of the death of her sister.<br />
<br />
The surgery took place as planned earlier. She was discharged and advised Chemotherapy during specific days for which we had to report to the Hospital without fail. This continued for a long time.<br />
<br />
Leela was so pretty with a Kashmiri complexion and a lush growth of hair. After the Chemotherapy her face started turning dark and all her hair had dropped. While returning from Chemotherapy she used to vomit and it was a painful sight to see her agony. Still she had kept a smiling face; only we had the worried look!<br />
<br />
In the meantime my third daughter Anju came to me with some good news. A healing assembly was on card in Marina Beach where a crowd puller Evangelist would heal all the diseases under the sun on all those who attended the meeting. My children were in desperation. I too was; but I was not convinced. I asked why we should go to <st1:city><st1:place>Marina</st1:place></st1:city> with a sick person when he himself can do the healing job praying at his tower-home. My children, fortunately was not that spoon-fed on false faith and they remained silent.<br />
<br />
But it caused me enormous guilt of failing in my duty when a few days later, Anju told me that her friend's relation who was on the road sitting in his Car heard the Evangelist calling him by his name and assuring him that he was cured of his Cancer as Jesus Christ did the healing job on him at his request. (Jesus Christ did the job at the Evangelist's command and went back to him waiting to attend to obey his other commands!) In any case he was cured; that was what I was told! While all the time I was grieving on this, a month later Anju came and told me that the cured person was no more and he died of the same disease he was suffering from. Later she came to know that the dead person was related to the Evangelist. In the deal the Evangelist made a few millions and his bank account bloated a little more.<br />
<br />
Things started happening in bad shape. Pain started aggravating. She was suffering, we knew. But she never exposed it to us. Determinedly she was hiding her suffering from us. She reached a stage where there could not be any cure and her days were determined. So the <st1:place><st1:placename>Tamilnadu</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Hospital</st1:placetype></st1:place> became distant to us and she was confined to her bed forever. Children used to surround her on their return from classes and they even conducted their studies too sitting by her side. Such a loving relationship; such a binding bond!<br />
<br />
Devils show up their faces from different corners when one is in peril. On one night I saw a Doordarshan T V programme of a lady - a News Reader there - testifying that she was a victim to Cancer and the Doctor who was shown along with her - A Sidha Doctor - cured her of Cancer lock, stock and barrel. She presented medical records on the screen - you know that, be Evangelists or native medical practitioners, they never show the hospital name and the Doctors' name and address. She confirmed that the Doctors were wonder-struck on her recovery. Again my lost hope surfaced - the drowning man catching the straw! I came to know that she was the wife of the Medical Director of the State. I frantically contacted him and got the address of the Sidha Doctor with his home in Thiruvallur. Early morning I set out to my target and straight reached his home. There one of his wives told me that the Doctor could be seen only in his clinic and I walked that distance to land there. I went fully prepared with all relevant medical reports and joined the sit-in queue in a majestic commercial complex owned by him. A hour or so later I was called in and the first thing I did was to place the medical records on his table. He just pushed it aside and asked me only one question; how old she was. When I asked him whether he could cure her, his reply was a dry counter-question " What am I sitting here for"?. He then handed over to me 15 days medication - a few black pills that looked like mini goat-droppings. Along with me were an eminent teacher and an ex. Secretary to the Tamilnadu Legislative Assembly. We all returned with hope. The medication was truthfully administered; but the pain increased. I went again to the Sidha Doctor and returned with more expensive droppings. There was no effect at all. Then came the news that the Teacher's wife expired followed by the death of that graceful person. However, my wife was left to suffer more.<br />
<br />
Her condition grew worse. One morning I heard a loud scream from the bed room and we all rushed to see what happened to her. She was holding the old Malayala Manorama News Paper in her hand where she saw her sister's picture among the dead. That paper I kept away from her as I was bidding for time to reveal the sad news to her when she would be capable of absorbing the shock.<br />
<br />
From there onwards her condition grew worse. The pain was unbearable. When it is at its highest she used to groan suppressing her voice to the minimum. Children used to console her and talk to her about God's mercy. One day she asked in desperation; "God, what did I do to suffer this agony"? God did not respond. At times she used to be very angry with me for no reasons. That was her mental state. One day I too retorted, as my state of mind was also not different. She got down in sadness and sat on the floor for a long time. Later in remorse I went to her and asked her pardon. I said, "I am very sorry". She remained silent. She was graceful to understand me. But later in utter penance, after her death I cried and kneeled at the place where she sat and repeatedly requested her soul to forgive me for my inappropriate outbursts.<br />
<br />
The end has now come! On one morning she called me and asked me to call a friendly family who was helpful to us. Her intention was to seek their help for me in conducting the marriage of our children. Before I could take any action she dropped on the bed. I took her to the hospital nearby in an ambulance. Doctors who attended to her told me that the end would not be far away. My second daughter Asha was constantly by her side. I do not know Why; but I kept away from my sinking wife. In the meantime Asha came to console me and said "Doctors would say so many things! But, be assured, God is with us; He will not leave us, He will hear our prayers and nothing would happen to her" She stood a rock in her faith and pretty soon the rock was thrown to bits in the quake – I mean her death. I sat in silence without emotions. While I was sitting dump and numb, my daughter rushed to me to say that she was collapsing. When I reached the door, I saw her turning her head on to the side and vomiting blood. She bade farewell to this cruelworld once for all leaving all her proud belongings in human flesh! What else are we? Asha grew violent and threw away all the equipments out of frustration, being betrayed by faith and faith peddlers. Fate majestically won! Faith crashed in shame!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">When her body was brought home Anju could not believe that her loving mother was dead. She shrieked and repeatedly begged her to rise up. No response! She fainted by her side. My weak heart lived to all these situations. Sad situations one after another! In the night a Doctor was called in and she was put to sedation.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">That night I sat statuelike near her dead body. A screen popped-up in my mind. There I projected our good and bad times; how she remained without sleep a whole night at my sick bed, how she had kissed my feet one morning after a previous day quarrel, how she used to express her confidence in me and how at the instance of my sister she selected me to live our life together although we in appearances resembled Othello and Desdemona. (The first time we met, it was at the Church Marriage Ceremony. I saw her sitting beside me and she saw me after our marriage. You wonder! Yes, it happened in our case). I looked at her motionless body. We never had any honeymoon. But the first night through a rickety window the full moon shone on her face and I saw and I still remember her pretty, graceful smiling face resting on my hands. And now here, in front of me lays a figure eaten away by Cancer; no hair, burnt complexion, bloated stomach; to sum up, a ghost of what she was.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And days after, I saw this message she left in her diary! "The Lord who has girded me with strength shall keep my ways safe"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The one who stood by me through thick and thin left me forever or did God cruelly snatch her away from us! This question still remains unanswered in front of me! I pictured what was in store for me in future! A blank screen popped up. My children and I have to draw our life afresh with bare hands. The brush has been taken away. Three girls are to be married off. Most of the assets single handedly I built disappeared. I have started losing my nerves. I turned my wrath against God! I started abusing Him. I called Him names. And on one such weak moment I told my children to the dismay of my Mother-in-Law who was sitting next to me that we always seek pardon from God for the wrong we do; but now it is His turn to seek our pardon for the wrong He had done on us. They all remained silent. Perhaps they had thought that I have gone nuts. I did.<br />
<br />
It was on March 26th night in 1992 she died and made all of us feel orphaned with her exit, leaving three girls of marriageable age in my frail hands. And the days when my children's marriage took place I cried my heart out in solitude missing her presence, but seeing her compensating in my imagination gracing the function. In my third daughter's marriage betrothal, I was made to stand along with the groom's parents and when I looked at my side for my wife I saw a vacuum and tears flowed through my eyes. What a life is this! A life I did not choose!<br />
<br />
I said, God was cruel to us. But He was not. All my daughters' marriage took place. I could arrange it with dignity. But in the process I came across many who carried the Holy Book and conveniently reciting verses from it, but making extraordinary demands. None showed any sympathy for the motherless girls of character; good-looking, intelligent and educated. I did not yield to demands and my children stood by me. In one proposal the stumbling block that pained all of us was that the girl didn't have her mother living. How ignorant and cruel are some around us!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
Now I live a life alone independent of all the rest and it would take pages to write how God was kind to me and showered His blessings over me. He pardoned me for my outbursts. Perhaps He thought He deserved it! Now He is the only One left to me to communicate with. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">K. Mathew Thomas</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-42625871159706720212011-01-15T08:39:00.000+05:302011-01-15T08:39:51.984+05:30VOTING OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO MY COUNTRY AND MY STATE<div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: medium;">VOTING OATH OF ALLEGIANCE TO MY COUNTRY AND MY STATE</span></b></div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small; text-align: right;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c; font-size: medium;">K. Mathew Thomas</span></b></div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As I exercise my precious right to vote conferred on me by my country and authors of its constitution to choose a person to represent me and my brethren, I take this oath of allegiance to my COUNTRY and my STATE in the interests of its stability, security, progress and prosperity.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for an Indian, born in India of Indian parents, as I will not sacrifice and compromise the security of my country and sell its interests to external elements and on this I will never be influenced either by inducement or by threat of any nature.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not have any link with external elements and not lead and guided by citizens of foreign origin who, I am intelligent enough to understand will never be loyal to this country as patriotism can never be shared between countries of different continents and those who row in single on different boats do not care either for its safety or aim an ultimate destination.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that proved its mettle in the past and my judgment will be based on character, performance, loyalty to the nation and its people, proved beyond suspicion while in power as different from loyalty to self, proved beyond doubt in the past by amassing wealth for the family and position for the leaders and their wards.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not have any link with any other parties in power in neighbouring States who choke me and my brethren denying us the right of existence by cutting off basic vitals as water which Mother Nature has kindly bestowed on all of us to share for mutual prosperity.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not distinguish me and my brethren by region, religion, castes, gender, majority, minority and any other human imposed divisions that can endanger the integrity and communal harmony of my country.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that believe in true secularism and not coloured and tainted secularism defined solely to trap the voters in political interests dividing people on communal lines that can injure the nation and lay it beyond mend. I will never vote for opportunistic secularists who after enjoying power and its fruits for several years wear false secular masks and colours at the fag end of their term and ditch the hands that reared them.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">8.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that does not encourage political feudalism where opponents within are just zeroes and family zeros are artificially inflated and stationed in different regions promoting anarchy while crafting them to take over reins without character on feudalistic lines exploiting a leaf licking gentry within.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">9.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that has stability in its agenda and discipline within and will not explode into pieces when it comes to a destiny forced power struggle where self proclaimed leaders and wards fight themselves and perish.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">10.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that gives due respect and honour to women as I believe women hood is to be venerated for all that is good in us, among us and around us and can be equaled only to our love for our MOTHER COUNTRY, whose destiny we decide by intelligently choosing our representatives in its protection without any consideration that is alien to us but not alien to those without character and morals. </div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">11.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that respects Mother Nature and the clean environment it provides to us to live in health and happiness and is committed to its upkeep to the maximum possible extent in spite of all the man made pollution. I rate environment pollution as damaging as the political pollution that eats up our country slowly and steadily like a cancer virus.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">12.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I will vote only for a party that is committed to bringing in prosperity all around us and be a role model as a leader to others in our country while making sincere efforts to draw respects and admiration universally which is vital for our growth.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">As I take the ballot paper in my hand I will close my eyes for a second and on it I will visualize in my inner self my mother, my brethren, my country and its security and tear off the image of division, destruction and other sinful images that can belittle and harm my mother who gave birth to me and my mother country that sustains me. I understand that an intelligent discretion is called for on me to identify and sift sin from honour and honour only honour. I pray God to give me strength of character and not</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"> blind my vision from seeing things in its true colours. GOD SAVE MY COUNTRY.</div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;"><br />
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</div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6044285811650450760.post-28146657608400101952011-01-15T08:03:00.000+05:302011-01-15T08:03:49.251+05:30The ‘art’ of talking!<div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><b style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 17px;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-large; line-height: normal;">The ‘art’ of talking! </span></b></div><div align="center" class="ecxMsoNormal" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: right;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: #244061; font-family: Verdana; font-size: medium; line-height: normal;"><b style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px;">Shob</b></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Many of us think that the art of talking concerns only professional orators. The communication which we make in our daily life does not occur to us, as that needs an art. “We just talk”, we would say, “Why do we need to think of it as an art? Do we have an audience or what? Just talk...” would be an inevitable reply. </span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">But talking has more to it. The way you talk can make or crack relationships. Isn’t it said, “Only a few people talk, rest all make sounds”. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are some involuntary practices people develop while talking.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="line-height: 17px;" /></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some would stutter and stumble the moment they start to talk. We might even wonder they have a stammering problem; but that wouldn’t be - they would be quite fluent in a subject of their interest. It is that these people begin talking even before they decide what they are going to talk, too eager and nervous to plan or formulate their thoughts, that’s why the stuttering and stumbling.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some would have conceived what they want to talk but would begin talking without exactly determining what words they want to use. Then they would pause in their sentence, frequently… making the listeners lose interest in what they are going to say.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">Yet others would talk, but would frequently get lost while talking; they would stare somewhere and turn to the listener to ask, “Where was I?” </span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Some would repeat the same thing again and again, leaving the listener very embarrassed to point them out that it is the nth time they are saying that! </span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Some would never come to the point right away. They would beat around the bush for a simple yes or no answer. </span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Some are quite strange! When somebody is talking to them on a topic, all of a sudden they would say something totally unconnected and incoherent. The speaker wouldn’t be sure if they were listening at all, in the first place.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These are of course some of the spontaneous behaviors we develop. But there are certain other things we do, while talking, deliberately.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For instance, some, as soon as an opinion is laid will oppose it. “It isn’t that way!” they would say, leaving the listeners in a gasp. They would then substantiate their point. For instance, if we say, the films of an actor X is good, they would immediately spring and say, “No, no you can’t say that. His films aren’t good at all. In fact he is dumb”. Subsequently, if we say, just to comfort them, “May be the films of Mr. X aren’t that impressive”, strangely again they would say, “We can’t totally conclude it that way either”, leaving all the listeners puzzled. Talking to such people is really a trouble. You will never get to know whether to accept or deny what they say! After talking to them for some time, we can safely conclude that the main motto of such people is not to make talks but to just oppose whatever is being told to them.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some have a strange habit. They keep blowing their own trumpet. “Last year I did that; last month this, yesterday that and today this”. If somebody would interrupt them they would flatly say, “Wait a minute, don’t interrupt me” and continue blowing. Nobody knows where the end would be! They would not acknowledge any accomplishment done by anybody else other than themselves! You can’t even attempt to talk to them of somebody else. It is all “I” in their talk, no “you”s, not even “we”s.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They would say things like, “I am such a great person that I really don’t like to talk to anybody else who is not of my range”, thoroughly belittling and baffling those who are talking to them. These sort of people are also mostly of the type who would just advice anybody and everybody without really considering whether they would need it or not! They take it for granted that almost everybody around them is ignorant of almost everything…</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is also this habit seen in people. They like teasing or pulling the legs of their kiths or spouses. There are indeed, a lot many people like this. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="line-height: 20px;" /></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"></span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">The husband always pulls the leg of his wife. He constantly teases the way she cooks, the way she sings or the way their married life is going or whatever. This wouldn’t always sound good in a gathering. How aren’t they aware of that? Spoken in privacy they would say, they did not mean anything by saying such things. Good! Why should anybody say anything they didn’t mean?</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="line-height: 20px;" /></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wives teasing the husbands are also not less. They would casually say “he doesn’t know anything about the house. It’s all me” or “he can’t remember the routes. If it wasn’t for me we would have lost the way” or “he is so dumb without me around” with their husbands beside them. We can’t win anybody’s heart by pulling their legs. Or can we?</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some people are good at commenting and so they do that in every sentence they talk. For instance, the moment they see their colleague entering the office, they would say, “your hair is looking terrible”, instead of a “good morning”. Then they would say about the face, dress, shoes and almost everything. They themselves grant the right to comment about other’s delicate issues like walking style, sitting style and even their belly – “that’s because you eat a lot and don’t exercise” they would advice!</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some would give remarks as and when they talk. If, for example, a person keeps saying the words “you see” again and again, they would just say, “My God! I hate people who say this ‘you see’ in every sentence”. Are they coming to say they hate the person who is just in front of them and talking to them?</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Some would throw a harsh response as soon as a person told something. For instance if a person said, “I like Mr. X”, they would immediately say, “My god! He is such a terrible guy. I just can’t imagine which senseless idiot can like him”. The person who made the remark would become dumbfound. Of course he would be! Just now he was awarded the title of ‘senseless idiot’.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Harsh responses are actually of many more types. In fact, there are too many people who use them. There are varieties like, “Shut up, you can talk when you are asked to” or “don’t ‘you’ inquire about that shop, it isn’t for people who won’t spend money” or simply, “I know you would give such a stupid answer”.</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">There are also these types of persons who care a great deal about tongue slips. They would laugh and laugh at one mistake; they will remember it for years; and important - they would keep reminding it to the person who made it and to everybody around, all the time. </span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">Some believe in being humorous, so they keep joking, careless about the mood of the person talking to them or the seriousness of the topic that is discussed. The opposite is also true – some are too sensitive. Whilst in a casual talk, they would suddenly begin to cry and the listeners would feel embarrassed – should they continue, stop, go away or stay?</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">It isn’t always that only flaws don’t make a good communication. Even flawless talking makes a bad communication if done at a wrong, unneeded time. This is mostly done by elders and people who are in higher position; not that others wouldn’t do it – if they did, the listeners can always excuse themselves. </span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;">But if the big talk was done by an elderly person, the listener has to be polite and listen to it, whether or not he needs it; he cannot afford to be rude to an elder!</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br style="line-height: 20px;" /></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Similarly, lots of people who hold higher positions do this. Say for instance, when the subordinate would go to the higher official and say, “Sir, our team has certain doubts in this particular work”, the official would talk about the ‘team’ for half-an-hour, ‘doubts’ for half-an-hour and ‘work’ for half-an-hour, totally for an hour and a half, until he would get an important call and release the employee, without making any mention on clearing his doubt! The same thing here – the subordinate cannot say to his boss, “I don’t want to hear to your lecture!”</span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Liking towards each other happens only by good character. Character is nothing but habits. If we do not cultivate the habit of doing good talk, we would be risking being hated by most of the people around us. People would talk to us and greet , but just for the sake of it and we would never be aware of it. And it could get too late to rectify our mistakes even if we were made aware. </span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Whoever we are – an employer, an employee, a student or just a domestic person with no office responsibilities – it is always better to acquire the art of talking. That way we would be nice people with fine qualities, capable of giving a comfort feeling to the people who talk to us.</span><span class="ecxApple-style-span" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; font-size: x-small; line-height: normal;"></span></span></div><div class="ecxMsoNormal" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>K. Mathew Thomashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16316397928860749247noreply@blogger.com2