A little kingdom I possess,
Where thoughts and feelings dwell;
And very hard the task I find
Of governing it well.
~ Louisa May Alcott

...that more or less describes my situation!

 
This month my blog completes 7 years… It has been a real friend all along… there when I wanted someone to talk to, there when I needed someone to listen, there in times of happiness, there in times of care… I am so happy to have you in my life… happy birthday dear blog! :)

Wish all of you a very Happy Christmas and a fabulous New Year!
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 12:28 pm 1 comments

 

Wisdom comes with pain as we have all heard people say, but ironically and sadly, it goes with pain too. I am referring to the painful process of uprooting one’s wisdom teeth. I wish I could say tooth, but in my case, again sadly, it is the case of the plurals. And, and not just one more than the singular, but three times more. Yes, we speak of four.

I remember having written about the whole wisdom tooth removal business sometime in 2004 if I am not mistaken. I don’t have the patience now to look for it in the archives. One of these wisdom four had started troubling me so much during that time that I forced myself to the dentist, whereupon she advised me to remove all four including the troublesome one, to avoid them being cause of trouble later. Thankfully, she mentioned doing this in a phased manner, that is, removing only the troublesome one immediately, and one by one the rest. As suggested, I got the problem one removed then.

What happened after that is perhaps natural. I forgot all about the dentist’s advice. My memory is pretty good on every other point, as most people who know me will very unhappily testify to am sure. But, in this one point, ignorance seemed the best road to bliss. My teeth unfortunately didn’t seem to be on the same page. Result being, few weeks ago, I again started feeling some slight pain.

Cutting the long story short, I took myself to the dentist last Saturday. Somehow, from the previous visit I remembered her prescribing some medicines for a week before fixing an appointment. I don’t exactly know what got into her this time or if my memory had again tried to play with me, she gave me an appointment for the following Monday itself. I blabbered if Wednesday may not be a better day but not having a good enough answer other than umm…and humm…when asked ‘why’, I decided to ‘go for it’. This time she was adamant about removing at least two. Both apparently were in equally bad shape. I decided to get the lower one removed first and maybe the following week the upper one (note the use of ‘maybe’).

Well, alls well that ends. It’s not technically ended but still. Monday didn’t come quickly enough and when it came, wouldn’t go quickly enough. The specialist who was called for the dirty job didn’t seem to like the look of my lower tooth at all. Seemed it would be somewhat complicated and my face may swell for two days and ….! I could only manage to splutter and incoherently utter about the upper one. She looked at it—and to tell you her exact words—she said “I can knock off both now”. Knock them off? (choice of words suited to ease the heart indeed!) You could have knocked ME off at that moment. She seemed to think it would be better to get done with the whole thing at the same time, but try convincing me! I suddenly remembered the important meeting at office on Wednesday morning and couldn’t imagine how it could be concluded without my noble presence, if as the doc said my face may swell for two whole days. And as for me going to office or anywhere out-of-doors with a swollen face? The question didn’t even beg an answer. I could feel myself flinch when I told the doc to get rid of the upper one for now. I couldn’t help ask if she could be sure this wouldn’t be as complicated as the lower one, and she said “may be, but I can’t really say for sure”. If that didn’t beat it!

Anyway, the ordeal was easily over, thank God, and I was much better when it was finally done.

I wish it was finally, finally done though and I didn’t have to again go this Friday to take care of the so called complicated lower one. Now that I think about it, maybe I should have followed the doc’s advice and be done with it. Maybe I should have let ‘wisdom’ prevail even as it was on its way out :(

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 11:59 pm 0 comments

 

A friend of mine asked me ‘so aren’t you going to blog today?’ and I realised he may be assuming I would want to share my opinion on the terror attacks on my blog…

It is not that I am lacking in sympathy or sentiment at such times; I feel anger, frustration, bitterness as much as anyone else, but I think what I most feel is a sense of being ‘unfortunate’—unfortunate of being born in a country where anyway everyday is a struggle, where anyway giving thought to the higher things in life isn’t easy, and in the midst of it all, we grapple with countless agencies that make it almost impossible to—forget about rise above the challenges of everyday living—but make even simply living itself impossible.

But why do I not feel like venting out my feelings at such times? Why do I not make use of these situations to wax eloquent about what the country is coming to, what a handful of politicians are doing to us, what a corrupt system we have, how horribly inadequate our forces are…? Do I prefer to shut all these issues out by not talking about them?

I don’t know…

There is a section of people called the media that are much involved in the business of news mongering during such ultra busy periods of their work life. I do not know if I feel more disgust or amusement at the way in which they go on blatantly with ‘we were the first to break this sensational new development’, ‘our reporter xyz saw the whole story unfold before his own eyes’! But why blame these people who are, to use a cliché, ‘only doing their job’. Isn’t it we, the curious and voracious public, that encourage such sorry and pathetic reporting? More pathetic in the light of the horror they unceasingly seek to capture… with the abundance of such story tellers and first hand reporters around, I feel what need for me, an under informed, passive victim in a way, to share my views in the midst of the thousands floating around…

The question does come into my mind—by staying quiet, do I make anything better? The answer is simple enough as I see it. Am I not doing every duty as a law abiding, responsible citizen by paying taxes, electing representatives to run the government…? If judges are incapacitated, can I act as a judiciary? If doctors do not function, can I operate on the ill? If the government does not do its job, can I do it for them? In settling for a democracy (of the people and so on), do we not essentially put up a mechanism that will take care of the needs of its every citizen, at least its most basic needs of safety and security? What do we do if that machinery is not efficient or totally damaged? And even if we know what is the most obvious thing to do, by which I mean replace the machinery, do we take any concrete steps to do that when we engage in armchair talks, group discussions and interviews of diverse people once the real ordeal is over? Is there something we can actually ‘do’ to change this machinery, something that we can collectively ‘work upon’?

I don’t know… really, really don’t know…

Earlier whenever there have been such horrifying incidents happening in the city, one heard of this strange creature called ‘spirit of Mumbai’ that apparently was above it all, and seemed to rise after every attempt at stifling it, almost as if from the very dead. I have always found it funny, if not tragic, that people’s (by people here I mean the relevant authorities) tendency to forget what was done and to go about their businesses as if nothing really happened, was admired and eulogised with such poetic words almost. I would have begged to ask, what was the alternative if one did not ‘carry on with spirit’—fight back maybe? But because we chose to forget and live and let live those who didn’t really deserve to, we become a resilient and never say die and spirited Mumbai! I hope we can finally see through the irony; I’d much rather we be tougher and don’t forget and don’t let things keep happening to us, than be all ready to as the same ‘media’ calls it ‘bounce back’ and keep bouncing back again and again after being repeatedly hit.

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 7:59 pm 0 comments

 

Wrote this post while I was cooling my heels at the Frankfurt airport for all of five hours. And good thing I did; I have had absolutely no time since I have arrived and I’m afraid I would have lost the best moments by now. I wanted very much to check the blog and post something while I was at Basel, but there was no wi-fi connection at the apartment and blogs were totally blocked in office.

Switzerland, at least the little corner of Switzerland I was fortunate enough to visit, is just so so beautiful! I have no other words to describe it. The moment I walked out of Basel airport (the Basel airport by the way is no less special—you can exit into France, Germany, or Switzerland from this so called EuroAirport), and found my way into a taxi, I thought I had stepped directly into a picture postcard. Gorgeous looking trees and such wonderfully shaped and coloured leaves seem to abound all around (I later understood this is the general hue of the autumn season). My first impression is that of being in wonderland—I understand what Alice may have felt! :)

I happened to land on Sunday which happened to be literally a day of rest in Basel (not sure if the rest of Switzerland or for that matter Europe is so laidback on a Sunday). There was not many a soul to be seen around, not a shop was open, and no noise or sound to be heard. The whole procedure from finding my apartment to getting the keys to making myself comfortable was exactly planned and went as per plan without my having to meet with anybody’s presence. Apparently even the apartment offices close on Sunday but they take care that you don’t face any difficulty—but that I guess is a tough call if you come from a country where things are not so automated and human intervention is the first step to resolving a problem! For example, a phone was available for my service but the sprageldy-gabble English instructions written for me didn’t give me an exact clue of what I may be charged for it or if I would be charged at all. If that’s not a small inconvenience, I’d like to know what is.

The people in Basel, at least the ones I interacted with, were extremely warm and friendly, and I happened to interact with quite a few on my way back from office when I would ask for directions to one sightseeing destination or another. They would spend more than a few minutes to help me usually. One time, a gentleman saw me and my colleague poring over a map deeply, and came and stood by us to enquire if he could help with what we were looking for. On being told we were looking for this place called “Munsterplatz”, he told us we had all of two possibilities. We could either go straight, then right, and then down the hill or we could go straight and left and then up the hill…I had made up my mind immediately that down the hill sounded better, when he added that on second thoughts we should go up the hill, because the view of the Munster (which we figured by then meant ‘Church’) when you go up towards it was magnificent. Such niceties from strange people made one feel good, and this was not one isolated instance. One other time we were making our way along Claraplatz (I noted that every place ended with a Platz or a Strasse—I guess Pltaz means place and probably Strasse is also along the same lines)…so another time late in the evening (it got dark by 5.30 and everything shut down by 6.00) we found ourselves on this street called Claraplatz and believing we were more or less lost (we had put off giving in to this belief because we were told by sundry people that try as you might, you couldn’t get lost in Basel)…we stopped this couple and asked them how far we were from our end location. The guy who seemed to understand English made a panicking running motion with his hand and said ‘this not where you go, this very far”. Needless to say, we almost started panicking ourselves. The lady gave us a calm smile, argued with her husband, took the map out of our hands and showed us which way to take. We asked how many minutes it would take to reach and the lady thought for a bit and said 20 minutes. What made me feel better is the thought that we had been walking all the time and never taken any vehicle, so no matter how far we were, we couldn’t have come all that far! Finally we found ourselves on familiar home territory in 10 mins. The only conclusion we could draw from the story is that given the Swiss love for being exact, probably they had given a very conservative estimate of 20 mins. But all in all, it made me feel nice that they cared about rank strangers.

The ‘walking’ part reminds me—my major mode of transport in Basel were my feet. I would walk to office (15 mins approx) and walk back from office; this was along the Rhine river and made for a pleasant experience in itself. I would walk to go sightseeing, walk to go shopping, walk and more walk. On a Saturday, we decided to try out the Day Pass for a tram (if one didn’t walk, one mostly used the tram in Basel). It was a jolly nice ride in the tram when we just started out, but after that, if we asked anyone for tram related information, the only answer we got was that it was too close to take a tram—you’d be better of walking. So apart from that one teeny weeny ride, we were again walking. I took consolation in the fact that I would have lost some weight with all this good healthy exercise, but there was a good reason why I may not have lost after all—and that reason being Chocolates!

If chocolate lovers achieve nirvana, they must come straight to Switzerland I guess! :) There was so much chocolate all over the place, so much lovely variety, so much sinful goodness, so much gooey yumminess, so much abundance of the brown mouth watering stuff…It was all I could do to stop myself from going overboard! I would get into every shop that attracted me with its chocolate and baked goodie temptations and just smell and feel whatever was on offer…it was a joy just experiencing it!

Given the smallness of the city, I was able to partake of more or less all the little attractions it had. Apparently Basel is widely known for its cultural orientation and consciousness and I guess its 30 odd museums are some sort of testimony to that. I visited two museums: one was the Kunst Museum and another called Dolls House Museum. While I am no connoisseur of paintings and do not know too much about appreciating art, I must say I enjoyed my stroll in the Kunst Museum. There was this air of the ancient and things gone by and lost beauty and mystery about the place and the aura that the paintings exuded, it would be difficult to not be impacted by it. I managed to pick postcards of some paintings I particularly liked. The Puppenhaus (Doll’s House) Museum was a nice place though more enjoyable for kids I’m sure. I actually saw a few parents with their kids silently watching the doll display and seeming to enjoy themselves. It sort of surprised and pleased me because I had stopped believing kids in any part of the world today have the sensibility to enjoy just watching still things, no matter how beautiful! On the last floor of the museum I found some sort of craft competition for kids going on and it was fun watching. Children were given plain little sculpted dolls and were asked to decorate it with all the items they were provided with, like colours, fancy leaves, beads, shimmer, glue etc. The end products looked so good, I ended up asking the lady if I could buy one—but she said no :(

The high point of my visit though has to be the Autumn fair (Herbstmesse). Luckily, in the first week I was in Basel, the autumn fair was still going on. Every evening we would go to a different site in the city and enjoy the fair. There were the regular giant wheels, merry-go-rounds, and all sorts of dare devilish rides—one could hear children and older people screaming out of those rides! There were candy stalls, chocolate stalls, shooting stalls, pizza stalls, and what not! Some very interesting chocolate concoctions I witnessed; they would put strawberries or apples or bananas (or other fruit) on a stick (like we do with kababs) and dip the whole thing in melted chocolate! Then there was this other chocolate that was sort of ovalish and huge in shape but when you bit into it, it was full of cream (I particularly loved this one!). Then there was almonds roasted in sugar or heavily flavoured cinnamon cakes. It was a wonderful experience—just walking the streets and absorbing the spirit of revelry pervading the air.

Last but never the least, shopping! Most of my shopping sojourn was along this long street called Frie Strasse (yes, yes, the Frie does mean free but nothing is free :)). Apart from chocolate shopping, much else wasn’t possible. Things seemed to be very very expensive, especially the clothes. I was in fact disappointed even with the quality of the clothes given the price, but it looked like lot of Chinese goods had flooded their market. I intended to buy a Swiss watch if nothing else and on the last day fortune seemed to smile on me. Not the best looking watch I have had yet, but when I think of the place it’s going to remind me of, I’m sure it will be a keeper! :)

Some photos here

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 6:15 pm 0 comments

 
My camera broke down a few months ago (that’s just one of the reasons for my photo blog being quiet this long—what does one click in a place like Mumbai anyway?). I knew I had to buy another one soon, but it’s happened sooner than I thought. I will be leaving for Switzerland for two weeks this weekend on a short assignment, and it would have been too much to miss a chance to get myself clicked in one of the world’s most beautiful places! Incidentally, this is the first time I’ll be going anywhere near Europe and I have to admit, I am very, very excited.

If possible, my next post will be from the Swiss country. In any case, I shall be putting up pictures after I am back. For now, check out a sample picture taken with my new Canon PowerShot SX100.

Wishing everyone a very Happy Diwali!

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 5:00 pm 0 comments

 

Been thinking of writing a blog for many days now but this past month or two have been too, too busy work-wise ...leaving absolutely no personal time. Before I come up with something to write here, thought I may just let the world know I am alive, and hale and hearty (a little more than I would like to be if the weighing scales are to be believed!)

Enjoy this quote till am back…

"I'm astounded by people who want to 'know' the universe when it's hard enough to find your way around Chinatown."

-- Woody Allen (1935 - )

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 1:09 pm 0 comments

 
A colleague lent me this book ‘the Secret’ by Rhonda Byrne. The secret as it is called is the ‘law of attraction’ in terms of the mind—whatever we think of, we attract into our life; in other words, whatever we think about, we bring about. The problem, it seems, is that we are most often thinking about what we don’t want and not about what we want, and as a result, attracting ‘what we don’t want’. For example, instead of thinking about ‘money’ we are thinking ‘debt and lack of money’, so instead of attracting money, we’re attracting debt and lack of money! This idea also essentially means that we are the shapers of our own life experiences or destiny and whatever we’re currently experiencing in our life, is the result of our own thinking! This also in effect means that we can change our lives by changing the way we think.

Hmm… I must say this book got me thinking. I cannot easily accept such a simplistic view that our life is the end result of our thoughts alone or that whatever I ask for, the universe will send to me. At the same time, if I were to analyse this whole thing deeper, I do feel that there is some truth in it, there is something to be said about the power of positive thought—people who achieved the unachievable or got what they wanted, have been rarely those who thought they wouldn’t!

A thought I had was about people who pray at certain shrines and have their wishes granted. I wonder if it isn’t the very strength of their mental beliefs, that so and so shrine will answer to their problem, that does lead to the cure?

One thing this book suggests, I found a little worrying. It says that while you ask for or think about what you want, do not worry about ‘how’ you will get it. Say, if you want to become the next President, don’t think about the impossibilities or difficulties; instead, just think that this is what you want. The reason is, that when you think of impossibilities or difficulties, it means that you’re sending the message or as they call it ‘emitting the signal’ that you do not really ‘believe’ this will happen, and that being the message you’re conveying, that is exactly what you will get. What I don’t understand is, can I really achieve something or make it happen if I don’t think of ‘how’ or actually work towards it? The book makes a difference between ‘inspired action’ or doing something intuitively, which would be something the universe is prompting you do, and actively doing something, which suggests you aren’t really trusting the universe to do it for you. Are we then saying that one must leave aside hard work or real action? I couldn’t figure this.

Another point made in the book is that the universe apparently doesn’t differentiate between 'good' and 'bad'. If one asks for good things or bad things, it is all the same, and they will be granted, as long as the mind is faithfully asking and believing.

While all this in entirety is something I find difficult to digest, especially that we can make such far-reaching conclusions about the mind or the universe, based on so little real evidence, what I did find worth thinking about and worth maybe adopting and trying out, is the concept of ‘positive thinking’. I do feel that the more positive the mind, the more determined and strong one’s beliefs, the more the possibility that it will come true—I don’t know if that is because the universe answers you, but it certainly draws the best out of you and towards you.
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 10:25 pm 0 comments

 

I wonder why is it that we weigh ourselves down under the burden of our own expectations. This is the question bothering me and making me sad. I feel that if I learnt to expect a little less from people, I would learn to make myself a little more happier. But, how do you do that? How do you expect less? I believe that we expect only from those who are close to us; I expect from my mother or brother, but I don’t expect from the lamppost down the road. In that sense, having expectations seems like a healthy sign. A sign that the bond is close enough for one to demand, or expect if you will. But, how do you manage expectations? How do you say how much expectation is good expectation and how much is unreasonable? Another thing is, what if different people have different levels or standards of expectation? I may be able to go catch the moon but what if you cannot? Am I not bearing you down by expecting you to go catch the moon because I easily can? But, looking at it the other way, if I can give you the moon, isn’t it only fair if I would also like to be given the moon? Then, if you cannot give me the moon, and, I feel let down, what do I do? How do I manage my expectation? Do I give less and expect less? And how does one do that? Isn’t that almost like saying, give more and expect more? Can one easily do that?

What bothers me really is that when my expectations are not met, I start questioning the relationship itself. For example, if I feel that my brother, like a good brother, should do so and so for me—if he doesn’t, I may start wondering if he even loves me as much! Isn’t that dangerous—weighing people’s love for you by how much they measure up to your expectations? But then, what about the expectations? Where do they figure? Is one supposed to just plain let go of them and become Mother Teresa … giving and giving, but not expecting in return? What if one weren’t born a saint?

Hmm… these are the puzzles and jumbles my mind is playing with … if only human beings were simple and human emotions simpler…

posted by Sylvia D'souza at 10:11 pm 0 comments

 
I got myself a new haircut!

Not an earth shattering event, put like that, but I don’t think I can recollect the last time I had a haircut that was any different from the one before that.

I remember one time going with friends to this really posh and hip kind of salon (at least that’s what my friends said), called “Tress to Kill” I think, fully determined to “do something with my hair”. The three of us huddled together like mice in a corner, watching all the grand dames having their hair spruced up. When the hairdresser motioned in our general direction, the boldest of us marched forward first, and then the second boldest. I, of course, thought them as good guinea pigs. If their hair came out looking any better than how it went in, I would convince myself to try out something different with my hair, I thought. There was of course the small glitch that both the girls had short hair; one curly and the other wavy (mine happens to be long and straight). When they were back, the curly haired one looked like a steam roller had passed through her hair and the wavy one looked like somebody had dug up the front part and forgotten to finish the job. As you can tell, I was not very heartened; but having made my bed, thought I may as well lie on it.

When my turn came, before the hairdresser could start at all, I gave her detailed instructions on what she could and what she couldn’t do with my hair. Result: my hair looked exactly as it looked before—only difference being that it was silkier after all the brushing and blow drying, and my pocket was lighter by Rs. 500.

Cutting back to today. My sister happened to accompany me to a hair salon this time; she egged me and goaded me and pushed me to try out the hairstyle the lady before me had got herself. It looked great on her, but I have had many trysts with my luck so far to know that this was exactly the kind of trick situation that led me to regret my actions later; something would go wrong and I would end up looking like a duckling with ugly hair. I still decided to brave it; it was now or never.

I’m happy to say that I have been getting compliments from left and right (yeah…what more does a girl want!) … and what makes me happier, I have hopefully overcome my paranoia of my hair getting messed up if I tried out anything new with it!
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 5:31 pm 0 comments

 
War

Here dead lie we because we did not choose
To live and shame the land from which we sprung.
Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose;
But young men think it is, and we were young.

--A. E. Housman
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 10:03 pm 0 comments

 
It's that time of the year again. Time to plan for tax savings (that's if you bother to plan these painful things when there's time enough to plan). Reminds me of this really funny quote I read recently:

"The way taxes are, you might as well marry for love." :)
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 9:36 pm 0 comments

 
I remember an anecdote in Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat where the chap has a tendency to imagine that he suffers from the symptoms of any disease he happens to read about or hear about. I suffer from a similar tendency, though maybe not in so high a degree! There was a time when plague hit the headlines, and though I cautiously avoid reading the newspapers, one morning my eye accidentally hit on it. I was curious to know about this plague thing, but before I had known all about it, I had a sinking feeling I had it. I was suffering from the plague, I was pretty sure. The symptoms could hardly be mistaken. Nothing really came of it though; I used to practice my last dying words in the privacy of my bedroom—what a waste!

Knowing my weakness or whatever one may call it, I try not to familiarise myself with the intricacies of the medical lexicon. A doctor once told me, “Half knowledge is dangerous” (am ashamed to admit I hinted to her in a weak moment of what dire malady I suspected myself of having). I have taken her advice seriously ever since and decided to be ignorant. I have very little knowledge of how the body works; if you ask me to feel my pulse, chances are I won’t know where to find it; if you ask me to clutch my kidney, chances are I will have but a vague idea of its location. I have very little knowledge of how medicines work; if you ask me to have a crocin or a prucin, I shall blindly follow your advice, provided you’re a doctor of course! Bottom line is, I don’t really have a clue, and I feel it’s better that way, because if I did have half a clue, I guess it would not do me much good.

I have come across a lot of people who absolutely relish talking about their health problems. Backaches, heartaches, sprains, colds, and what have you, they will give you a detailed list of all they have been suffering and before you think of a way to escape the lengthy harangue, they would have started on their neighbour and the friendly neighborhood dog. I am a little wary of speaking to such people. I am one of those who hide their faces behind their palms when a surgery or operation happens on TV. As a kid, I would wait for the operation to get over and the doctor to come out of the room and say “isse ab dawa ki nahin dua ki zaroorat hai” …or … “humne toh bahut koshish ki magar hum so and so ko nahin bacha paye” before I would open my eyes. Talking to the above mentioned people is a trauma for one of my type, as you can imagine. They will explain the details of a medical procedure or the exact nuance of someone’s bodily suffering in such clear and excruciating detail, that short of actually plastering their mouth, you will do everything to change the damn topic.

I personally rarely speak about any illness or sickness I’m suffering from (purely out of consideration for others like me who would rather be spared the bare facts of the case). If I have a cold, I rarely go out of my way to tell people about it. If asked though, I admit to the fact, and hurriedly divert to a different subject. If I have something minor but irritating, say a swollen foot, and I am looking for some general advice, I am in a fix. I obviously have to go to someone who professes some knowledge of these confounded things, and I obviously have to prepare myself to hear a lot more apart from the exact insight I’m looking for. I’m guessing this is how a butcher feels when wringing a chicken’s neck—nauseating but it’s got to be done to get the meat. (I may be transferring my own sensibilities to the butcher; I have practically no idea of what a butcher feels or if he feels at all)

I’m sure there’s much to be said about being aware of one’s body and how to take good care of it, not being wholly dependent on outside agencies for advice or help, and to be abreast of what’s happening in the world of medicine. But like I said, I’m better off being a novice! …A good friend of mine, who quite contrastingly, is heavily into all this and loves to explore health and related issues, has started a blog on the topic. His last post on ‘water’, and whether we are having enough of it or too much, reminds me of a joke—

“One afternoon, a man went to his doctor and told him that he hasn't been feeling well lately. The doctor examined the man, left the room, and came back with three different bottles of pills.

The doctor said, "Take the green pill with a big glass of water when you wake up. Take the blue pill with a big glass of water after you eat lunch. Then just before going to bed, take the red pill with another big glass of water."

Startled to be put on so much medicine, the man stammered, "Jeez Doc, exactly what is my problem?"

The doctor replied, "You're not drinking enough water."
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 11:43 am 0 comments

 
Ambalapady… after a long time, I thought of my favourite place…nostalgic memories came bounding back…my mom has planted almost a whole garden outside the French window of our house…this little shrub of greenery is reminding me of Mangalore and our ancestral home in Ambalapady which is all but locked up, for want of inhabitants…I keep feeling that as time goes by, we go further and further away from our roots—to be closer to what, I don’t know…

Speaking of memories, I watched U, Me Aur Hum yesterday. The central character suffers from Alzheimer’s. After a point, she cannot even remember her dear ones. I found it extremely tragic. Not so much for her, but for the people she loved. Imagine looking into the eyes of the person you love to death, to not see even a spark of recognition. They say only God can understand God’s ways …I have to agree; I can’t.

We were having a very interesting conversation the other day in office (a mini break that wasn’t really mini, in spite of meaningful hints from the Boss). A colleague of mine bumped onto this site that told you what were in your past life. That’s how it all started. We went onto discussing if there is such a thing as ‘past life’ or ‘rebirth’.

I think I have mentioned this in a post before on this blog that I instinctively veer towards the idea of rebirth. I have no idea what tilts me towards this belief, but I find it worth exploring…

A related idea I find interesting is that people are born with a baggage of knowledge and experience gained from previous births. That is why some people (or souls) appear to be more ‘evolved’ or ‘wiser’ than others. This one may argue is because of better education or intelligence or wider experience, but it is not the ‘worldly wisdom’ that we speak of—it is an intuitive wisdom; it is a wisdom that ‘just knows’, without being related to anything one has learnt in this life.

Another idea I have read about and find interesting is—the ‘instant connection’ we feel with certain people. A bond that seems difficult to define. What do we call it? They say it is some shared history, some former association that sparks the feeling of familiarity and bonding. They call it a ‘karmic connection’…as if nature itself brings people together.

These things are certainly strange and bizarre when you think about them … they have no root in reality as we define it or as we are capable of analyzing … but I wonder…how little we really know of life…and how many possibilities exist…
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 10:37 pm 0 comments

 
A very common question I encountered, in those school/college scrapbook things, is "what is the most embarrassing moment of your life?" I remember not knowing what exactly to write in this section, because I never seemed to have had occasion to be embarrassed to the point that I would actually remember the incident for later reference. Not so surprising too, because being extremely sensitive to embarrassment, especially public ones, I was careful not to get into scrapes which could likely have embarrassing outcomes.

What happened yesterday though will certainly go down as the most embarrassing moment of my life (had it happened earlier, those scrapbooks shouldn't have had one section empty). I wished either the earth would swallow me or the heavens would open up and gobble me.

To begin at the beginning. I was nominated for a prize along with a certain other person. The name of this other person was announced first as the first nomination and as I understand now, my name was announced next. Due to some disturbance in my hearing or some trick played by the Gods themselves (hah, she certainly deserves to have one embarrassing moment in life! I imagine they said), I was deceived into thinking that my name was announced as the winner instead of as the nominee. I got up from my seat and almost went up to the prize distributor. Imagine my surprise, consternation, embarassment, dejection, horror, shock.....when I noted that everyone instead of smiling or cheering, was staring awkwardly at me! ugh!! I returned to my seat trying to keep my face as grave as possible without actually resembling the graveyard. All would have been okay if I actually did receive the prize, but I didn't. It must have been one of the most embarrassing (I said that before) and toughest moments of my life, to carry on as if nothing had happened (the moment I was all alone, I cried a hearty cry).

Were I essentially a prize lover sort of person, I could have probably calmed myself more easily. But to not be awfully enamoured of such things, and yet to come across as an over-excited creature…well!

Funny though it might sound, I have to admit I have been dying of embarrassment every time am replaying the incident in my head (which must be every five minutes). This episode has made me think, not that I haven’t thought of it before, that I take myself and things too seriously at times. I guess I look at falling down or goofing up as a damage to my dignity… but guess dignity is not about not making mistakes, it’s more about making them and taking them gracefully… and I guess I should try to be, as I keep saying to myself, less afraid of making mistakes, less afraid of opening myself to strange or unfamiliar challenges, to possible embarrassments… I may fall… but it’s not one who doesn’t ever fall, but the one who keeps falling and in the process learning, who emerges a more enlightened and even a happier individual.
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 8:19 pm 0 comments

 
But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never old, never dead,
From itself never turning.
-- Sir Walter Raleigh

Wish you all a very Happy Valentine’s Day!
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 9:01 pm 0 comments

 
Have you read the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes? I had it as a lesson in school and it is one of those stories I have never forgotten.

I feel that most people tend to exhibit the behaviour shown by the Emperor’s subjects in the story. Let me first summarise the story (the details may be hazy).

Once upon a time (how I love stories that start like this!), there was an Emperor who wanted a new suit of clothes. A tailor offered to make the clothes from a very special piece of cloth that would be visible to all but the really foolish. The news of this magical dress spread far and wide throughout the kingdom. Finally, the day dawned when the Emperor was to present himself in a formal procession in his new finery. Thousands of subjects flocked to see him. When the Emperor made his appearance, there was pin drop silence. Soon after, loud comments of praise started ringing from different quarters. Someone praised some aspect of his dress and someone praised another. All in all, there was general agreement about how regal and majestic the Emperor looked and how the new clothes really became him. At this point, a little child was heard crying out in the crowd, “The Emperor isn’t wearing any clothes!”

I feel that most people, out of fear of being deemed foolish or in a minority, tend to keep their real opinions secret and follow whatever the majority appear to be thinking or saying. They do not give any credence to their own opinions or thought, do not analyse what they really feel about the matter, and even if they do know what they really feel, when they find it to be non-conforming, or out of tune with how others seem to feel, they keep silent. I find this attitude extremely troublesome, because what it essentially means, is that certain actions are taken or certain opinions followed, without a careful evaluation of any opposing lines of thought—because nobody dares to oppose. What is even more dangerous, is that those who do try opposing or coming up with any contrary views, find themselves in a dismal minority, find themselves to be looked upon with disfavour, and probably, over a period of time, become one of the aye-sayers!

I was reading some management related concepts the other day, and chanced upon one that talks about this. It is called the Abilene Paradox.

An excerpt from the source—

“The name of the phenomenon comes from an anecdote in the article which Harvey uses to elucidate the paradox:

On a hot afternoon visiting in Coleman, Texas, the family is comfortably playing dominoes on a porch, until the father-in-law suggests that they take a trip to Abilene [53 miles north] for dinner. The wife says, "Sounds like a great idea." The husband, despite having reservations because the drive is long and hot, thinks that his preferences must be out-of-step with the group and says, "Sounds good to me. I just hope your mother wants to go." The mother-in-law then says, "Of course I want to go. I haven't been to Abilene in a long time."

The drive is hot, dusty, and long. When they arrive at the cafeteria, the food is as bad. They arrive back home four hours later, exhausted.

One of them dishonestly says, "It was a great trip, wasn't it." The mother-in-law says that, actually, she would rather have stayed home, but went along since the other three were so enthusiastic. The husband says, "I wasn't delighted to be doing what we were doing. I only went to satisfy the rest of you." The wife says, "I just went along to keep you happy. I would have had to be crazy to want to go out in the heat like that." The father-in-law then says that he only suggested it because he thought the others might be bored.

The group sits back, perplexed that they together decided to take a trip which none of them wanted. They each would have preferred to sit comfortably, but did not admit to it when they still had time to enjoy the afternoon.”
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 1:15 pm 0 comments

 
"I mean, what is an un-birthday present?"
"A present given when it isn't your birthday, of course."
Alice considered a little. "I like birthday presents best," she said at last.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" cried Humpty Dumpty. "How many days are there in a year?"
"Three hundred and sixty-five," said Alice.
"And how many birthdays have you?"
"One."
--Lewis Carroll (in Through the Looking Glass)

I love birthday presents best too, especially today, because I get to receive them! :)
posted by Sylvia D'souza at 1:53 pm 0 comments