The Escape Route

A hectic work life ? Too busy with all the gizmos ?? A tight rope walk all the way ???Then you are the right candidate to take off on a long weekend with your loved ones to an easily accessible holiday destination.We are just back from one such trip. It was our children's wedding anniversary and my son declared he could not spare much time on a holiday. So we put on our thinking caps and thought in earnest. Where do we go in such a short time ? I certainly believe that however caught up we are with our bread winning , special days need to be kept special when your family has to be made to feel good. As the adage goes ' Give the devil his due '. Maintaining a healthy work life culture is so important in the present day context. It is not only for the family but for your own self. You too need to surface at times for those large gulps of fresh oxygen, spending quality time with the family and indulging in some healthy activity different from your every day routine. Don't forget, traveling is also education !

We decided to head to Red Earth Kabini , a resort and spa. It is a comfy 4 and 1/2 hrs drive from ' namma Bengaluru' across the lands of Haider Ali, Tippu Sultan and the Wadayars. This resort is on the banks of river Kabini also known by its ancient name 'KAPILA', after the Vedic sage  Kapila Maharishi who lived around 700 BC. Here the river bifurcates into the Nagarhole and Bandipur game sanctuaries. This is also the ' Project Tiger ' belt. Red Earth borders the NAGARHOLE game park., known for its Deer, Sloth bear, Indian Gaur, elephants and the shy predators the Tiger and the Leopard. It is a fun combo of activity and total relaxation !

Red Earth Kabini boasts of 20 luxury cottages with private Jacuzzi, open to the sky in true Balinese style.The property is sprawled over 10 acres of verdant landscape. Hardly any cement, concrete or steel has been used in the creation of this infrastructure. The cottages are made of ' in rammed' construction. The roofs are made of locally procured elephant grass with bamboo matting from inside. This keeps the cottages cool in summer. Of course air conditioning is inbuilt in every cottage. The furniture thrown in is also from yesteryears. The honeymooners have 3 honeymoon huts complete with four poster beds and additional goodies.The resort has a great swimming pool which is filtered without any chemicals. It was designed by a French architect. This resort also has a floating, colonial bar with a professional Snooker table. It is quite quaint with the whiff of a jungle lodge.

 

'Flame of the Forest' - a must try cocktail!

 There is strictly ' no room service'. This is to give an opportunity for folks to mingle. The dining room is a large open gazebo in true Kerala style supported by 18 antique wooden pillars. No fans here but there is excellent cross ventilation. If you are lucky to have a heavy downpour then the place gets so cool to the extent of getting nippy. I was really impressed with the food they served. It is a fairly large buffet with a lot of choices catering to different palates. You do have a choice of continental cuisine to Desi khana, well cooked and very tasty. Fish lovers would relish  ' the catch of the day' and don't be surprised to have prawns too! The veggies and fruits mostly come from their very own organic farm.

There are a number of activities you can indulge in on this property. Coracle rides are facilitated across the river which is exciting. I came across people going to the Nagarhole sanctuary every evening that they were there. This is also well arranged by the resort. Special dinners by the river side and  Bar-be-ques are also arranged. Do try this out on a full moon night. It is exotic. We were fortunate to be there on one such night when the moon was in all it's glory and had draped the entire expanse in its silvery shimmer. For not the so adventurous you still have choice. In case you are the artistic kind ask for a river facing cottage and see the magic you can weave. Do not miss out on the Spa ZVASTHI ( breathe in Sanskrit) which gives you an invigorating Swedish Massage with aroma oils. We indulged ourselves there everyday for the full body massage with ' hot stones '.

Across the river Kabini is a 1600year old Shiva temple by the name of Thiranimunti Parameshwara temple. On Shivarathri amidst the floating lights on the water, the Red Earth send their coracle which carries 3 priests and the Shivalinga from the temple along the river. Legend has it that at a particular spot on the river the coracle spins round thrice and any amount of maneuvering is of no avail. Locals believe that there is a submerged temple at this spot. When the water levels recede , it is not uncommon to see ancient engraved tablets on the floor of the river , probably in the Devanagiri script.

What I was absolutely impressed with was the ethos of the Red Earth, which is 'rejuvenation'.
Extreme emphasis is given to preserving the ecology of the area. No chemicals are used in any form. Extensive plantations of fruit bearing trees like the mango, jack, rambutan. Mangustin, pineapple, Chinese cherries, passion fruit is indeed a visual treat. Perennial flowering plants are strewn all around- cannas, alamandas, verbenas, geraniums, bright coloured crotons, roses, fuschia and a what not. They have three borewells and no water from the river is used for any purpose by the resort. The water used for the farms is recycled and treated in a plant and goes back through drip irrigation. Two artificial water bodies are created on the property which get filled up during the monsoons and attract a large variety of the winged species. If Salim Ali was here, I know exactly where he would have perched himself with his binos!

The locals are from the Betakurbar and the Jainkurbar tribes. They were living a hand-to-mouth existence till this resort emerged as Goddess Annapoorna to them. 95% of the staff are from these villages. The tribals are employed, trained, given various skills, which indeed has made poverty take to its wings from their midst. I chanced upon speaking to a few locals and they did not have to express themselves in many words. A sense of achievement and victory oozed out of every pore. Ravi Parameshwaran Iyer, a planter by profession and his beautiful wife Thankom Rachel Ravi own this fab property. They are intimately involved in every going-on here. You can see them just about everywhere. I feel it is their personal involvement in every sphere which has made Red Earth a success story!

Do try out this resort the next time you are in Karnataka - it is sure to overpower you!

MANIPUR - The Land of Jewels

We are just back after a fabulous holiday in the magnificent North- East, refreshed and rejuvenated. All set once again to face the eccentricities of modern day living. Transition from a holiday untouched by the hustle and bustle, where time has somewhat stood still,  is also a difficult proposition. We literally have to push ourselves into the rigors of our mundane lifestyle once again in the midst of an anarchic surrounding. Fresh and crisp rain washed greenery all around,terraced Jhoom farming, smiling faces, light hearted people, woodsmoke and dung cooking fires are the treasures we have left behind trading it for the chaos and claustrophobia of the Metro.

Typical landscape around Imphal - with lots of water and paddy

Kabaw Valley - View from Tengnoupal

Before embarking on this great holiday, I suddenly realized that way back in 1997 , I had left a big slice of my achy-breaky heart in the beautiful village of Tengnoupal, nestled in the hills of Manipur, a 70 km drive from the capital, Imphal. It was time once again to retrace my footprints, lost somewhere in the sands of time. After a long span of  17 years, I was going back to one of my favourite haunts where I had lived three years of my precious life. I still recall vividly how much in despair I was, when  my husband was posted there way back in 1994. I had never heard of Tengnoupal. It all sounded so strange and alien. When my friends rang up to congratulate us on the promotion and posting, I had to mention where I was off to. Unfortunately none of them had heard of this quaint, pristine hill station. So much for our Geography lessons in school !!The erstwhile princely state of Kangleipak remained so till our independence. Thereafter it was merged to the Union of India and called Manipur- one of the seven states of the North- East popularly known as the ' seven sisters'. But I must second the fact that the seven sisters are so beautiful, that anyone would crave to go back in time and again and yet will remain in a mesmeric trance !

Tengnoupal village



Manipur in the Meitei language means 'The land of Jewels' ! It has about 29 dialects, with a composition of  46 % Hindus who follow Vaishnavism since the 15th century AD  and Christians who comprise of 35% of the population. Manipuris are a highly cultured, soft spoken community. They have a rich cultural heritage to which they fiercely cling to. Theatre, sports and a form of martial art called Thang-ta  are extremely popular. Ras-Lila, the Manipuri dance form is very famous and is performed elegantly and rhythmically. Many of you will be surprised to learn that Manipur is the birthplace of Polo in the world. It has produced outstanding Polo players like Ojhatombi and Shyamjai Sharma who unfortunately did not get the opportunity of showcasing their talents in an International forum. The Manipuris are keen footballers too. Their woven fabrics, sarees and phanek- innpahi are to die for. Rice is their staple diet with a lot of fish and leafy veggies. It is a sight to behold - the wide expanse of paddy cultivated fields all along the exotic Imphal valley. As the old Burma road unwinds, snaking it's way uphill from Thoubal to Tengnoupal, pages of history slowly begin to unfold. This is the very road which has witnessed bloody and fierce battles between the Japanese and Allied Forces during the World War 2, all the way to the twin towns of Moreh 
( India ) and Tamu (Myanmar). It has been also a silent spectator to the havoc of the Naga-Kuki-Meitei insurgency. Sadly, a blood soaked road of yesteryears.

While we were there in the '90s we were privy to a yearly ritual of Japanese delegations coming in chartered buses to pay tribute to their dead. It is a heart wrenching sight to see the young and the old, reverently carrying a picture of their loved one around their neck. They call out to their martyrs who lie somewhere in the folds of the hills, anonymously in everlasting rest. They indeed call out each of their names, say special prayers, strew flowers everywhere and keep their favourite food too. Some very old men and women would tearfully bid a sad adieu not knowing whether they can ever make it again in this lifetime. Surely time and tide wait for none! Whenever we would do some new construction in this area it was so sad and disheartening to see skeletons, skulls, ancient Military boots, helmets, water bottles, personal effects like keys and copper coins tumbling out of the hills. A grim reminder of unsung, unknown heroes and an era lost to the present day civilization.

The Japanese delegation paying homage to their martyrs

Tengnoupal is approx 1490 mts above sea level in the Chandel district of Manipur - 'The land of a thousand whistling winds'. I recall vividly standing on ' Top of the World' overlooking the wide Burma valley (Kabaw valley). Surrounding hills and winds whistling past in urgency oblivious of any presence around, are all part and parcel of this wonderful place. When I arrived in Tengnoupal for the first time , the officers almost scared me by telling me that the sounds  I was hearing were not mere winds  blowing but second world war aircrafts coming in for an attack. It surely sounded that way!!

Tengnoupal I discovered, witnessed the most glorious sunsets. The skyline gets strewn with a myriad different colors and hues as though God himself was painstakingly painting this oversized canvass. I watched these pristine sunsets as often as I could and yet not had a fill of it. The sun would slowly and gradually sink behind the hills pulling the curtain over yet another splendid day. I would think to myself how fortunate I was while most of my countrymen had either not heard of this awesome part of India or endeavored to make a trip this side.

This time we had gone to specially attend a traditional Manipuri wedding of a friend's daughter.What a great experience it was! Manipuri weddings are a rather formal affair unlike weddings in other parts of  India.While the bride and groom are getting set to come to the Mantap , the drum dancers (Phung Cholom) perform a scintillating dance, an invitation to the Gods. The bride looks as radiant as an Oriental Princess dressed in a traditional Manda and all her finery. The couple does not smile or talk during the proceedings because they believe that if they do so, the opposite may befall them in their wedded life.

Our Manipuri Bride

Unless we Indians travel the length and breadth of our country extensively,we can hardly savor India in her true form and vividity. Also worth a visit is the Loktak Lake with its floating islands that move, called 'Phumdi' . The Seroi Lily in the Ukhrool district is a sight to behold.

Seroi Lily

It has a blueish pink hue and grows in the wild, over extensive areas. It flowers in the monsoon months of June and July, the peak season being May 15th-June 5th. The Seroi Lily is Manipur's state flower. You would also consider yourself lucky to see the wide variety of orchids that flourish in the wild.The History tour will not be complete without a visit to Field Marshal W.J Slim's bungalow nestled in the Kangla Fort, Imphal. Field Marshal W.J Slim was the Commander of the Allied forces in Manipur during the World War - II.

Loktak Lake

Loktak lake with the floating islands

A must see is also the RKCS art gallery, in Imphal.

So folks, next time you pack your bags and plan a holiday, do visit the North-East ... It is an experience of a lifetime.

I sincerely hope and pray that we all can put our guns back in the armoury, every one of us , and join the mainstream , thereby looking forward to a better tomorrow. Enough of blood has been spilt, we need to infuse life now and work shoulder to shoulder to develop this beautiful State. Let's dare to follow the star blazed road.

                  "Old candle - Let it burn bright - its light may show a path to someone in the dark"
                                                                                                                                   -Anonymous

* References:
Manipur - Wikipedia, the free encylopedia.
Available at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manipur

The Three-Legged Dog

The Army is a great meeting ground and I love it for this . After every single trip, I come back a more enlightened person. On one such sojourn, we had to take a midway break at one of the military stations on the Jammu-Pathankot highway. The Commanding Officer (CO) of the Regiment at that location, was bestowed with a great sense of humor. What I found delightfully refreshing was that for once, my husband's rank did not come in the way of our conversation. Otherwise more often than not, between seniors and juniors, it is usually a short, courteous, crisp exchange of pleasantries.

Most of us may have come across at some point in our lives, some freaky instances of the kind, I am about to narrate. When such situations stare starkly in our faces without prior warning , we do get a trifle disconcerted wondering whether these instances were tailor made specially for us.

The Army is very well known for its perfection in the execution of any task, military or administrative. In case you have closely observed a marching contingent, you would have noticed men almost of the same height , in proper uniform, heads tilted at the same angle. Hence it won't surprise you if I say that during the visit of a Senior Officer to a Regiment, everything would be ship shape without a ruffle. In fact, there is someone or the other overseeing the minutest detail. Squeaky clean porcelain, sparkling silver, stiffly starched Damask, are all usual. Even if it is a dry, parched area you won't be surprised to find a freshly laid out garden with a stately fountain spring up overnight! But in perfect detailing, there may be also blundering; depending on how the stars are positioned that day. It would not be a bad idea to read 'what the stars foretell' before choosing such an important date!

Many a time,when things do go wrong, it can really be catastrophic especially when everyone is all set to put their best foot forward. Prior to a VIP visit to a Regiment,  there is a flurry of activity. From nowhere is a meteoric shower of some weird characters, you may otherwise not be privileged to encounter on a normal day. A 'safaiwalla' with a long witch's broom looking for fallen leaves on a swanky drive way, just as the VIP convoy is turning into the gate; the most ill turned out sepoy ( left with a faint hint of olive green on his fatigues) pops out of the chaos, when he should not have been anywhere around; a washer man with a big paunch, yielding a threatening Kalashnikov at a prominent gate (an honor bestowed on him for that day by the aliens!); a sweaty, hassled cook running in a frenzy trying to locate the Mess Secretary to report that the potatoes for the cutless (read cutlets) have not arrived! Despite the racing heart beats and a nervous Adjutant trying to tuck in all such sore thumbs behind bushes, the noisy pesky fly shows up just in time to hover around the General's teapot!

I wondered whether these ajeeb (strange) instances happened only to a chosen few or whether others too had their share of such luck. Finally, all my doubts were put to rest and nailed firmly into the coffin when I spoke to this gentleman. The conversation that sunny, wintry morning went like this. Said the CO to me, that every General Officer visiting brought with him his slice of luck. He narrated how in his Regiment, every time a VIP arrived, there was  a prominent occurrence of a three legged dog appearing from nowhere right in front of the VIP, to be only seen subsequently at the next VIP visit.

The CO Saheb(sir) recounted how this ghostly doggone nuisance manifested the last time their GOC (General Officer Commanding) visited. The old man fatigued after a long drive through the wilderness, was trying to steal his last twenty winks when the flag car (VIP car) entered the pristine gates of the Regiment which still reeked of fresh paint. True to military ethos, no stone was left unturned for the visit, including white washing several blades of fresh green grass to showcase the Regiment's high standards!

All of a sudden there was a jarring sound of brakes. The old man in the rear seat had a rude jolt as though he was thrown off a precipice in a horrid dream. He forced open his droopy eyelids as wide as he could, only to see the three legged dog standing in the middle of the driveway, frantically being chased away by a dolt with a twig in his hand! Needless to say, the day did not begin on a great note. The CO became discursive, with beads of sweat on his brow almost forgetting his opening sentence.

Finally while departing, the GOC could not hold himself back. As a parting shot to the CO he said, "Look friend, in case you do insist on keeping a dog in this Regiment, at least keep one with all four legs!!"

An ode to a DAUNTLESS DAD on his daughter's wedding

As I reminiscence through the kaleidoscope of the days gone by, there comes to memory a myriad different thoughts in many hues. I had joined the Batallion for the first time in 1984 and I was introduced to this couple, not realizing that a wonderful relationship was soon to unfold. I remember that beautiful sun drenched morning in Hasimara when I stepped into their single room accommodation and saw a cradle in the corner of the room, with a lovely angel in it - their daughter Lira.

NJD was a guy full of irresistible loads of fun and energy and his wife Subadani - a beautiful, demure lady.  Little did I know then, that he was indeed living life to the hilt, unable to foresee what lay ahead.

In the course of time, we too shifted to a house nearby. It was aptly named 'Count your blessings' by my better half SKH. The name worked wonders on my psyche, because every time I wanted to cry out hoarse and complain, this name caught my eye, etched bold into the wall. The house had no formal doors or windows except for the frames which were intact. But we certainly had expensive curtains hanging on bamboo sticks, substituting for curtain rods! We were immensely proud that we had a roof above our heads and were granted permission to live together in a field area (areas close to the border). With our toddler, these were tough times. The sun's harsh rays and the wind's fury were all uninvited visitors who came at will.

One evening, I was told that NJ and some of our friends were calling on us. I expected the guests to make a formal entry through the so called 'door' ! But to my amazement, I saw NJ enter through the window, sitting on the ledge, wishing me a pleasant good evening ! He was a great friend of SKH, and the rest of the evening was spent in riotous laughter, over hot paranthas and andey ka bhujiya (an Indian variant of scrambled eggs) - the ever favourite army quick fix, laced with high spirits over exaggerated stories of angling for rainbow trout in the frigid waters of River Paro Chu !

When SKH was in Cooch Behar, NJ and his wife were his next door neighbors. One great lesson that the Indian Army taught me was the spirit of sharing - not just in words but in action. This aspect which all religions emphasize, I have seen it being executed extensively in the Army. This husband and wife team were very fond of fish and every time fish was cooked at their home, my husband was a sure invitee.

We were all proudly part of the 4th Batallion, the 5th Gorkha Rifles (Frontier Force) [ 4/5 GR (FF) ], a family which is as close to us as our kith and kin. It is here that I literally grew up from a naive 21 year old learning the joy of giving and sharing. We felt immensely honored to be part of such stouthearted officers and men. The motto of the Batallion, KAFAR HONU BANDA MARNU NIKO (It is better to die than be a coward !) was ingrained into our very existence.

Our famous regiment, the 5th Gorkha Rifles (5 GR), was formed in 1858, with the robust, sturdy and brave soldiers of Nepali origin. Thereafter, they proudly fought every war including the 1st and the 2nd World Wars, and all the wars post independence, with grit, valour and determination. We always reveled in the fact that our officers led from the front, though they paid a very high price in bearing the brunt of the casualties.

History is replete with many examples of the Gorkha weapon, the indomitable Khukri.

The curved shape of the weapon is supposedly the third eye of Lord Shiva. There is a famous saying amongst the Gorkhas that once a Khukri is pulled out, it must taste blood before being put back into the sheath. There is also a funny anecdote that I know of. After dealing a deadly blow, the enemy asked the Gorkha soldier, "Missed" ? "Try shaking your head" was the instant reply* ! In the present day context of war, Khukris are pulled out only as a last ditch effort when hand to hand combat is imminent. Our batallion had won the famous battle of Sylhet during the 1971 war when they were heli-dropped right in the midst of the enemy. Some of the operations involved the extensive use of the Khukri, in hand to hand combat.

The deployment of the IPKF (Indian Peace Keeping Force) in Sri Lanka from 1987 to 1990 is known to every citizen of this country. There was hardly any reaction time and our forces were airlifted into various pockets of Northern Sri Lanka, to bring an end to the civil war between the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) and the Sri Lankan armed forces. Unfortunately, they were sucked into an unenviable whirlpool of fighting.

Maj N J D Singh was a Company commander with the Batallion when they moved to Sri Lanka. The operation was launched on 9th Oct 1987. Bullets were flying all around and our men were fighting many a gallant battle against tremendous hurdles and hardships. Maj N J D Singh was ordered to link up with a column of 13 Sikh Light Infantry (13 SIKH LI) and 10 Para Commando (10 Para Cdo) in the area of Kondavil University. There was huge enemy resistance and heavy militant fire. He and his brave men kept forcibly surging ahead clearing the road blocks and successfully completing the task by dawn. Thereafter, the Batallion was ordered to concentrate at Urumpirai for undertaking further operations. This move was to take place through an urban built up area with large open spaces in between. While this was being negotiated, the LTTE managed to occupy all the buildings surrounding this area, bringing down heavy fire. At this juncture, Maj N J D Singh with a few of his stoic men, occupied a dominating position, and actively engaged the militants but unfortunately got isolated from his own company due to a high rise wall. His position was being continuously attacked and he radioed the Officiating Commanding officer asking for urgent reinforcements and ammunition. Even while this was being organised, he radioed "I am out of ammunition and am charging through. Good bye and out". He indeed charged and killed all the 5 men in the LTTE position which was bringing down heavy fire on them. During the charge, he and his men relied heavily on the Khukris. Unfortunately, he was grievously injured and succumbed to his injuries. The LTTE position was silenced. NJ fought true to the maxim -' last man, last round '. Alas, the King fell just as in NJ's favourite game - C H E S S.

Hey NJ,

Subadani has diligently completed your unfinished task of bringing up Lira and Punmark. Lira is a petite, young doctor and Punmark is a handsome engineer who plays chess just like you. Lira's wedding cards have arrived, and it is beautiful. Subadani, Lira, Punmark and all of us from the family of FOFIF will always be proud of you. We will miss you on the auspicious occasion of Lira's wedding. But I am more than sure, you'll be there to shower your blessings on her. NJ ... are you listening ??

A grateful and proud nation conferred the Gallantry Award of Vir Chakra on Maj N J D Singh posthumously on 26th Jan 1988.

COWARDS DIE MANY TIMES BEFORE THEIR DEATH. 
THE VALIANT FACE DEATH BUT ONCE ...   

- Julius Caesar (II, ii, 32-37),   William Shakespeare

Blogger : http://sarahkoshyjohnson.blogspot.in

Email  : sarah.k.johnson.794@facebook.com

References:
-*Illustrated Saga of the Gorkha Brigade (1952-2012)

          

Band Baaja aur Confusion

The swish of Kanjeevarams, Banarasis and Paithanis, the glitz and glamour of jewellery, the joy that engulfs the environment, fun and laughter, 'mithaai' and 'phool'- all uniquely part and parcel of an Indian wedding. Two individuals coming together for the most important occasion of their lives !

The happiness should be infectious rather than like a marsh marigold having a big colourful head but growing in the marsh sans strong roots. I wonder who compels us to put up a front in public, even though this is not what we genuinely want to do. Is it that we live to please people at any cost, forgetting what is ethical and what brings happiness to the family, especially the children being tied in wedlock.

Early February of 2013, I had the privilege to attend a wedding with all the above frills. Everybody was exuberant and looking forward to this event, planning and preparing. Finally, the 'D Day' dawned. According to me, it was one of the cutest events I had  attended in the very recent past. The reason being, it was a wedding out of the fold and all the rituals and customs were a big education for  me since we were not so adept with all of this. It was a fine and elegant amalgamation of traditions and beliefs, the old and the new.

The bride was radiant and beautiful and the groom looked as successful as Prithviraj Chauhan from the pages of history. To sum it all, a big success story for which the couple had swum against many an odd, over many years of rough seas. At this point in time, they seemed to have conquered Everest !

When I gazed into the crowd, I noticed many a near and dear one with unhappy faces, and a feeling of complete letdown. I was surprised at this callowness. Was it just because the couple belonged to different faiths ? Are relationshps this fragile ? Why was a safety razor no where in sight ?Why did no one within the family think of improving the situation ? People holding so called responsible positions in society,highly educated, what makes us behave like this ? The marriage was taking place with the consent of the families. All the main attributes of an Indian marriage were met, then why cling on to trivia ?

It is when a girl goes through life's billows that she requires her family the most. This is certainly not the time and place to spread unhappiness. You need to hold her hand tight and reassure her. Your children need to feel and know that you are with them. That is every parent's responsibility. This is the moment for sagacity.

The shocker was yet to come. When the family were finally leaving, strict instructions were being served like 'paan' at the end of an event. The photographs of the ceremony were not to be shared on Instagram, just in case any body from outside was inquisitive about the events and ceremonies at the wedding. In other words, a kind of censorship was being imposed unmindful that others have their own freedom of choice, thought and expression.

Whom are we trying to please ? A psuedo society ? Why can't we stand up for our own individuality ? I certainly feel that people will look up to us with more respect and dignity if we follow our own voice. Once a decision of this magnitude is taken, we should hold our ground and go out of our way to support what is right. Others are not in the reckoning. Are their diktats and verdicts more important to us than our own ? Why is this canker holding us in sway ? This toxic nightshade must be cut off from the roots, at its very inception.

Somewhere along the way, everybody seemed to have forgotten why we had gathered. Ego and people's opinions slowly took centre stage displacing the bride and groom. Alas, we were groping in the dark and had digressed !

My little beam of sunshine !

He squeals, he plays, he laughs, he cries and this is my baby ! The 2 AM precision shrill alarm going off from his little throat to remind me it's milk time. The little red gums giving way to a little milky white cap to herald a new tooth. Joy thereafter. Oh ! He has stood up. Time for celebrations!Gurgling sounds giving way to first words. Dad and Mom arguing whether it was Papa or Mama that he tried to say. Adventures and quizzical events as they unfold, make many a heartbeat skip.Funtime-bathing time, a music freak he seems to be. I can hear Cliff Richard belch ' OUTSIDER'.With the rise and fall of the musical notes, I am sorted out, soaking wet, water splashing from the tub making me resemble a wet eel. Learning time -hobby time,my little Mohammed Rafi sings out loud to my utter amazement ' I am a SPIDER, that's me '. His version of OUTSIDER !!

Learning to talk and I am truly mesmerized at all he has to say, a dime a dozen! His little last word on all topics of conversation. The inquisitive  and Sherlock Holmes stage - I have to be on vigil. I can read his mind like a book. His eyes gleaming with conspiracy and lips breaking into a half smile. Oh dear! What's next? We have visitors and is he planning one of his awkward questions which seeks an instant answer faster than MERI MAGGI ? I can see his little plump fingers moving hastily towards a pencil.  What is this for,I wonder. He whispers into my ears that he has noticed someone in our drawing room with hair sticking out of his ears. He was seeking my permission to curl it with his pencil! Good Lord , how do I handle this? I break into beads of sweat. Permission certainly not granted. I carry this plum pudding to his bed room, trying desperately to transfer a few pearls of wisdom.

Every day I learn so much from this little guy, of course many a time losing tons of patience to the point of exasperation ! Prodigy off to school , wonder why my heart is thumping. Is it me who is entering the portals of knowledge for a second round? In a way Yes and in a way No. His homework becomes my struggle, his four course b'fast complete with juice and eggs ( which he insists upon )  my heartache, to ensure he did not miss the bus and what not. The day of reckoning has dawned . The first parent - teacher confrontation ! I am sitting on a chair like a ' Qaidi ' waiting  for the noose to tighten . Lucky husband always  has lady luck by him and is Mr. India on all such  occassions. Finally the verdict. My son has stood FIRST, believe it or not. Before the teacher ended, she hissed into my ears " Mrs J , your son is very talkative.He carries from home a huge bundle of stories every single day which he happily shares with all. Now I am more than sure that the teacher knows our family history better and what about the secrets? They must be all out in the open. I must not stick around here any more. I tell her that his talkativeness is an inherited naughty gene at work and I promise to do my best although I may not be able to guarantee absolute success. After all how the heck could I change his talkative Mom ! My baby is not to blame completely. He clutches my fingers tightly, carelessly waving his report card and says " I am just trying to guess what present you must have bought me for standing first. Is it BIG or SMALL ? I am amazed at the confidence of my little ladoo . He had expected me to have predicted the glad tidings!

Years , months, days and seasons have gone by. Each stage in life with its ups , downs and exciting  hilarious moments.Somebody please tell me, why do babies grow so fast? Where are all those bed time stories and imaginary characters all gone ? Where are Rapunzel and Jack and the beanstalk? Where are the sea of toys which took priority over every thing else ? I have all the time now and much more patience. But my little lad has grown up to be strapping young man with a responsible position in life and a lovely wife. He sings almost like a professional and keeps us spell bound. I am an ardent fan of his and so is  the rest of the family which includes his mom- in - law !
Ironically , he still rocks and rolls in my memory with his naughty glee . Everything he did and said  and the clothes he wore are as fresh as a daisy in my mind . Cliff Richard's OUTSIDER is still played once in a while at our home . But it is my voice you can hear loud and clear, singing 'I am a SPIDER, that's me' !!