Youths and Drugs!

  

 

Umesh was an officer in the District Anti-Narcotics Special Action Force Department.

He was on leave for one day because he had to attend the wedding reception of his friend’s son. When a traffic jam entangled him, he saw a couple of youngsters in a car who showed signs of unrest at the Traffic Jam. His suspicious mind led him to their vehicle. As soon as he opened the car, the boys took to their heels, and they disappeared within no time. The traffickers' capability in racing didn’t enable the officer to capture them. The bag with the loot in it, he transferred from the other car to his vehicle and gave it a safe residence there. The bag escaped tactically from the other’s notice. He drove his car to the side to park and made arrangements for the traffickers’ car to be under surveillance.

   At home, he thought of informing his higher authority, but his second thought asked him to wait and think. At first, though his mind was on tracing the culprits and bringing them under legal procedures, the thought that no one had noticed his act carried him on another track. He planned to sell the booty to the black market because he was ambitious of seeing a stethoscope on his son, Vijay’s neck. Vijay and his parents were in utter distress as the NEET exam did not include the boy’s name in the merit list.

“Shall we send him to some other country?”Mom, Shalini’s apprehension verbalised the words.

“ No, let him repeat the coaching,” Umesh replied.    

They chose an expensive coaching institution, running at the forefront of repeating the trials. So an easy but a bit risky means of meeting the outlay was the captured item, and more, it would become the answer too for Shalini’s question.  Night sleep was reluctant to lie with him; his mind travelled on the path of pondering over the dos and don'ts, and eventually, the dos pushed down the don’ts.

The time was four a.m. Some sound, not the strikes of the bell, but a few knocks at the door, not strong hits but mild taps, awoke the couple downstairs.

To their dismay, there stood a boy of Vijay’s image and age, failing to control his tears.

“Who are you? Why here?” Harsh was the officer’s voice.

The boy, Sangeet was one of the culprits; he and his friend skillfully vacated their selves from the vehicle. His tongue poured out his melancholy, weeping and sobbing supported his words, “I am in search of some money. I am a twelfth-grade student.”

“Who was with you then?”

“ The other one a financier. I was following him for money. ”

A good amount of money he needed to discharge his recovered sister from a private hospital, which was expensive, highly expensive.

 A stark pain had attacked the little girl in her stomach. The pain-stricken wailing of the innocent girl led her to that hospital. Sangeet, whose father was no more, was the decision-maker for an illiterate family. Appendicitis mercilessly had disturbed the little dear. Sangeet had no other go but to take her to a hospital. No better a Government hospital is, it is the one that gives prescriptions for medicines to be bought from outside.

And now the reality stares at him; money, the luxury of some people and the deficiency of some others, goes on hurting the latter. Sangeet was in chaos, how to and where to find the amount, the amount to bring back his loving sibling home.

 The officer’s inner voice spoke thus, “ Had it been your son, what would you do? Be away from all evils.” After all, Umesh was not miserly, not devilish, so, he decided not to arrest  Sangeet, he instead extended his helping hand for his hospital purpose. Yes, he took a vow in mind that he would sincerely work for his department and would try to save the teens and youths from the fangs of drugs. He presented the pillage to the authority and washed his mind and hands with the pure water of right ideas.

Your Imagination!

 

 

 

A palatial domicile, you had dreamed of,

in your compound trees, ornate

with pretty swaying twigs, full of greens,

the dawn sun in its glow of saffron,

chirping and singing birds having wings

of varying hues as a palatal feast for the eyes.

 

A happy home was in your imagination,

 affectionate home mates, tangy food,

clothing of your liking, travel style of your choice

sizable rooms, costly seating in the sitting,cosy beds,

A.C.to keep your body driving away the hot feeling,

a loving partner, adjusting and bearing your ire.

 

But ifs and buts rule your physique and psyche,

if your grey matter revolves in the orbit of gloom,

if desires wear the coat of irk and distress and

if your pals, partners or progeny build an invisible

fencing around you, you will repel them

covertly, then gloom will be your mind’s emperor.

 

So, be in love with the stars blinking at you,

 with the grin of the moon,the lovely birds, 

 the beautiful blooms, the glassy pond-liquid, 

lotuses and lilies in friendship, the swimming Pisces,

and make such things your worries’ erasers,

all pull your minds to reside with them.

 

 

 

 

The First story of Gadha!

The First Story Of Gadh!

If any subject teacher is on leave, another teacher will be given a gift named substitution work. Gadha’s class teacher was on leave that day. She was Usha, stylish, good-looking and a new teacher. Usha did a catwalk to substitute Sreedevi Teacher’s 8th class. Usually, in the substitution period, the teachers will be drowning in note corrections.  But Usha, because of her inexperienced status, was enthusiastic to trouble the children with Math lessons.

Gadha, “O! This part, our Sreedevi teacher has finished. Getting bored,” spoke in her mind. She took a notebook, opened its last pages and drew something this way that way and all. Suddenly she fell in a thought, “Why can’t I make Unni a subject?”

Yes, she set about thus.

Unni, the Wayward

Unni was a simple, loving boy. He was my neighbour, reading in sixth grade. The only problem, games cuddle him firmly and vice versa, always. If elders want some help from him, he pays no attention to it. So, his mother in half affection and half ire, gave him a pet name Unni, the Obstinate.

His mother Vasanthi’s legs seemed to be trying her expertise, as she sped domestic, the kitchen corner pushed her stumbling and she got hurt. She broke her left leg with inexorable bleeding. Somebody informed Unni, but he thought, “Nothing; might be a small wound, Amma will manage.” He went on with his amusements. Anyway, his Papa from the work site arrived and Mom reached the hospital. As doctors expressed their helplessness, she had to bid bye to all. Unni burst into tears, but his tender age suddenly allowed him to attain normalcy. The nomenclature,  ‘Wayward’ his mother gifted, his villagers painted with his name, and he became Unni, the Wayward. A couple of years passed, and his mind started to sit gloomy, felt his loss, so one day he penned down all his tearing emotions on a sheet of paper.  

Though his father was not that educated to understand it fully, his uncle’s words did leap out with appreciation. Uncle, Raj sent the story to a leading magazine. The week followed, dawned with Unni’s story in the magazine.  Unni’s presence became life in the children’s columns of best-selling periodicals and his villagers decided to cut off his ‘ Wayward’ tail from his name. Later, Unni himself ornamented his personage with his mother-given term and his pen name.

“Gadha, what is up there?” A thunder broke into the class atmosphere.  Gadha had touched the end part of her narration; no sooner did she keep back the book in the bag than another student snatched it to the teacher. The teacher stormed to the principal’s room taking hold of Gadha.

“ Ah! Beautiful substance, Gadha, what a language! A writer I see in you,” the Principal said on reading the child’s work.

“Usha, you are fresh, have patience. Don’t worry. That is why.”

Yes. The principal’s words ended in a fulfilling dream. Gadha is a writer now.

A Story of Yonder!

 

Climbed it, the little legs, the tree,

 cheated the tender limbs, the plant tall,

or the legs cheated the owner,

fell, adorned the legs, the doctor

no, a nurse with a plaster,

when so, the doctor asked her.

 

Would have agony, cuddled Mom,

if had been with Dad,  my mother,

he cried endlessly at me,

Now, no suffering she has, oh!No,

you are cruel, God! With Father

 not there, Mom, to dry my tears.  

 

One and a half months ate away

 days, numbering forty-five,

throwing the child to bed indeed.

 I lamented in my heart and was sad

seeing my playmates

run, jump and shower with water.  

 

The great doctor, time patted

 on the wound and pampered

the child, I, to try standing

and with his pals, playing,

as before, yes, the child became

smarter than earlier.

 

 

Old-age Home!

  

 

Janaki just stepped out of her house for a beauty parlour, a man in his late fifties approached her and asked for a small amount. His looks revealed that he was educated, once employed and not impoverished. “ Why doesn't he have any money? Can’t believe, “ her mind wondered. Somehow she felt an intimacy to that man.

 

“ Ayyo! I do all the transactions with my phone. What if you want cash? For food? Common, I can serve you food.”

“ No, not for food, mine a long story, anyway you have no money, so goodbye!”

“Wait, it's not a big deal. I shall withdraw from the ATM. Come with me. It is nearby, only a walking distance.”

 

“ Your, good name child?” The old man.

“ I am Janaki, working in a multinational company. Today is a holiday.”

Can I know your whereabouts, uncle?”

“ I am Devdas, a retired senior manager of a private company. It is only two years after my retirement. My daughter and her husband are staying in the  USA. They don’t want me to stay alone. So, they made arrangements for an old-age home. It couldn’t make me happy there. Ailing old people, some rejoice, but some bewail, remembering their kin. Hardly I cut two days there. I want to go back home, twenty kilometres away.  My daughter kept all my bank records herself. She fears that I may return home. Yes, I want to stay in my house, though alone.”

 

As the amount reached Devdas’ hands,  Janaki said, “Uncle, you look tired and hungry. So, come to our residence. You can have lunch and go.”

 

 The stomach of Devadas did not allow him to hesitate. Offering him a seat to sit, Janaki went to the Kitchen, where her Amma* was the sole authority. Amma and Janaki, a twenty-four-year-old girl, were looked after by that house, father no more. When the story went to her Mother, she turned to the sitting room. Devdas’ and  Premlath’s meeting brought back memories, fluttering in their minds. Devdas was her tuition teacher turned lover. Janaki, who knew the story, stood for their reunion. As Premlata wavered, Janaki said, “ Youthfulness has no age, Amma.”    

 

The Great Master!

O! Time, the great mentor, janitor

no hesitation, trots and trots, forward,

doing things  for beings forever,

opening a folder, saving animate acts,

 keeping his mouth closed, he travels,

travels, no stress, no end nor any beginning.

 

Watching and catching everything

walks at a smooth pace, for mentoring,

rushing as in a supersonic plane,

allowing no speed or slow pattern,

and giving people not much to learn,

as what he is doing is pure and clear.

 

Saving the misdeeds of ruffians

silky and glossy actions of great ones,

languid and lazy  acts of easy-goers

well in his twenty-twenty-four folder,

he walks and trots, with no pause or slip,

to open a new folder, twenty-twenty-five.

 

On opening wide, the old folder,

the acts one did will loom in front,

blaming or praising each and all

for their creations, useless or useful

for one can value and measure himself

or weigh its weight to obtain the fees.

 

Wish you all a peaceful 2025.

 

   

Teachers’ Day!

 

First of all, I extend my warmest wishes to all the teaching community of the entire country of ours. Gurur Brahma gurur Vishnu gurur devo maheshwaraha

Guru sakshat parambrahma, thamaai Shree gurave namaha.

(गुरुर्ब्रह्मा गुरुर्विष्णु र्गुरुर्देवो महेश्वरः I गुरुः साक्षात् परं ब्रह्म तस्मै श्री गुरवे नमः || )…… the essence of this Sloka is O, Guru! Thou art the creator, Thou art the preserver and Thou art the destroyer. O Lord! We salute you. The Destroyer here means the destroyer of ignorance or the reformer of knowledge,  so Guru is considered the equivalent of the supreme God. Teaching is a divine process and learning is divinity.

 

This gracious day right now drives me over my memory lane to my good old days of teaching as well as schooling. Today's teachers are energetic, enthusiastic, have ample cognition and are ready to refresh their knowledge, whereas the retired teachers are thought to be old drying streams. whatever water of experience is left with them will be worth sharing,

 

At the outset, let me quote a few of the experiences I encountered as a teacher. It is not only my experience because almost all the teachers will have such ones in their lives.

 

Once I went to Amruta Hospital to visit a patient. After the visit, I came down to the compound. The Sun was at the summit of His brightness. Suddenly, a youth headed to me unfolded his umbrella and kept it over my head. I wondered who he must be. “ Ma’am, I am Vinod, you were my class madame and I was a bit naughty too,” he said. I remembered him. 

 

One day my spouse and I went to a daycare for my grandson. Suddenly the headteacher stood up from her chair, came to me, bowed down and touched my feet. She was my student. She was touching my heart at that time.

 

Some other time I was admitted to a hospital for my polyp surgery. The gynaecologist Dr. Latha  came to my room and said with concern, “ Ma’am, I read your name on the name-board, my instinct asked me to see if it was you.”

 

I was delighted at all these occurrences. There will be a good many numbers of such experiences, which are the real accolades or awards, we the teachers bag. 

 

The tale of Teachers’ Day in India starts in 1962. Teachers’ Day was born on this soil on the birthday of Dr. Radhakrishnan.  Dr. Radhakrishnan was the first vice president and the second president of independent India. He was a highly celebrated teacher, a thinker, a philosopher, a writer, a statesman, an academician too and above all a great scholar. He was the Vice Chancellor of two universities. In 1962, when his followers were about to celebrate his birthday, to salute him on account of his scholarship, he opined that the teachers should be honoured instead of his birthday celebration. So, his birthday, the 5th of September of every year happened to be Teachers’ Day. Our Mother India was lucky enough to give birth to an eminent patriotic son on the 5th of September 1888 and he bade farewell to the nation on the 17th of 1975.

 

We, the pedagogical community strive through a path paved for us,  which of late, is not so smooth as it was. The education process earlier was marinated with values and ethics,  somewhat till a decade before. But now values have vanished hither and thither. The teachers do not acquire as much respect as their predecessors used to. We feel a dearth of respect and concern now. But one cannot say that they have fully evaporated. Sparks of good behaviour loom in children.

 

The word teacher can be expanded thus talk, encouragement, action, care, help, efficiency and righteousness. Moreover, the teachers love, pamper, inspire, guide, correct, support and advise their students. They are noble and set examples for the students. They instil values in children and serve as role models for the students. Parents and teachers are the two categories of people who don’t envy the young ones. Teachers expect nothing but only the fragrance of hard work and its good upshot from the students. If teachers run short of empathy and sympathy for the students, they should enter into an introspection. The teachers and students should analyse the day’s actions every day and plan to settle or fix the lapses and falsities.

 

What can be the position of teachers in young minds, first, second, third or none? An easy answer you cannot pull out from the inner chamber of your mind. Your heartiness should shake hands first with your parents of course, who only take you to teachers, and second to the Gurus and then God. Math, Pitha, Guru and God(मात पिता गुरु प्रभु) is the maxim.

 

Siblings and kin are separate entities and they deserve their seat in your mind. 

Drive, determination, dedication and devotion are the keywords to attain the destination.

 

Students, you are brought in the form of fresh seedlings,  the teachers sow them in the classroom soil, water them with care, manure them with love and nurture them with knowledge and they grow and become beautiful blooms, ready to exhibit sweet smiles by the time they are about to bid adieu from the school. And in the now, you are capable of choosing a way which will carry you to a bright future.  The teachers are the sculptors, who mould young minds into mind-catching sculptures.

 

Along with love, trust, good conduct, peace, and non-violence, the students should listen, adapt and act with guidance from the teachers, you can reap gold and diamonds in your life.  The teachers help you directly or by expressive style indirectly to be noble, humble, and pure in behaviour. When you imbibe all these qualities you will become powerful and be able to conquer any heights of success.

  

Quotes from Dr. Radhakrishnan-  The true teachers are those who help us think ourselves. Teachers should be the best minds in the country. Knowledge gives us power, and love gives us fullness. 

Yes, these quotes proclaim the important role teachers should play in shaping the nation’s future. 

Teachers, please remember that it is the the students that make you the teacher and beloved students please understand that your Teachers make you students in your life.