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Last Build Date: Sat, 25 Dec 2010 17:50:56 GMT



Sat, 25 Dec 2010 17:50:56 GMT



russian replies

Mon, 22 Nov 2010 17:16:59 GMT

its funny that i have instigated someone in russia to comment on my journal, i do not know
russian and their comments are in russian. will some one please translate this for me.
also i like to correspond with the disturbed soul .

Mon, 22 Nov 2010 17:14:02 GMT

well, ithink its time i took my pen and start writing,. mornings are busy and evenings are
pretty crowded leaving only the middle of the day. that time is not produdctive and goes
more in sleeping and whiling away.


Thu, 11 Feb 2010 15:25:13 GMT

it is good that no one has put any comments on my recent posts. after clicking 'post it' i thought
if it should have been delayed a bit, edited and then released. anyhow, till today no one has seen
or read it and i am relieved . if it is read tomorrow, i dont care.

few thoughts have been nagging me to be less positive. i do not want to be any less positive than i have been all these days. but as they say, your company determines how you think. i am avoiding that company for many reasons. the loss of my sister has been a blow to every one in the family, particularly to my aged mother. it is not a nice feeling to survive your children, that too in old age.that she was ailing for past nearly 7 years, that she has had new lease of life atleast twice
within those years, that no body can wantonly wish for her to be in dire pain, all these thoughts are
harassing me,. i feel anguished and disturbed that my mother is insulted . an allegation that a
mother wishes her daughter any thing bad is worse than an insult. i do not know how a human mind can
think so naive, low and irresponsibly. oops. i am being called for dinner. tomorrow, may be.
till then i shall keep my thoughts in order to express it without malice .


Sat, 05 Dec 2009 17:11:56 GMT

Sushila was admitted to hospital on 10th. I had gone to the airport to pick them up on 9th. she was looking tired, forlorn and had a far
looking pair of eyes as though lost in deep thought. she was shifted to icu on the 13th. 17 days of unfathomable suffering and most
despicable torture in the name of treatment later she was freed from the agony of living. She put up a brave fight to stay alive. whenever
she resisted most cruel medical molestation of her body, they drugged her and inserted catheter wherever they found soft flesh and
later thrust the ventrilator pipe down her throat. She was fast becoming a guinea=pig for the 'life saving' experiments on her limb body.


Tue, 10 Nov 2009 06:15:51 GMT

The namboodiri had asked me to contact him about 10 days prior to the pooja date for details.  since i could not spend 15 days in kerala for
the pooja i requested sethu to meet the namboodiri and proceed with the preparations.  the list was read out to me partly, on phone .  over
30 double veshtis, over 45 bath towels, then various types and sizes of lamps (vilakku), plates etc. there will be 5 priests conducting the pooja other than the main priest and an attendant who will look after their pooja preparations including food.  all the priests were namboodiris and i found out the 7th one, the attendant was an iyer conversant with the namboodiri style poojal.  the main priest, krishnan namboodiri delegated one of his
assistants to visit our home and give directions . 

I no longer have a house in kerala, the one in which i grew up has been pulled down and a smaller, compact structure has been put up where my mother lived with her youngest daughter.  The typical old kerala style single storied house is replaced with a concrete ground floor only house with 2 bed rooms, a pooja room, a living room and a large kitchen (the old kitchen was retained).  Enough for her nuclear family.  My mother occupied one smaller bed room with an attached toilet.  so, whenever we visit the 'home' we live in our sister's house.  after partition of the family's property i have received as my a share a piece of land to the south of the old house, which is now a small jungle with wild growth.

the pooja needed a large hall and two homa kundams outside the house.  a temporary shed with partitions was put up in the courtyard and the adjoining 'kottil' outhouse was cleaned up for cooking purposes.  Over 50 coconuts, 10 tender coconuts, fire wood coconut sleevings and other miscellaneous items were neatly stacked in a corner.  if all of us gathered there there will be no place for the pooja, so he suggested we shift to sushilas new house on the eastern part of the comound facing main road.  It had a large hall, two bed rooms and lot of spaces forf  cooking, washing, storage etc.  the house was cleaned up and readied so that we could stay there.

long time no see

Sat, 29 Mar 2008 00:44:57 GMT

its like visiting home after many years.  the first thing you want to do is to open the windows and enjoy the view and breeze
outside.  then you absorb the changes that happened in your long absence.  alright, let me have a nice cup of tea and i will
be right back in time to share my thoughts, experiences, observations, knowledge, interests, and my obsession with future,
hope and expectations. 

life after 60

Sat, 13 Mar 2004 14:40:42 GMT

I have found that the real potential time to restart your life is after 60. You begin again
after 60. All the old baggage can be shelved in the years before 60 and you can start
again anew. whew! just wait for what i am going to start again.
for readers who are still young and in their pre 60s, what i am going to say or write
may be useful tip for you. because when you are not yet 60 you still feel in control
of your life (which is not true) and you tend to take all challenges head on with lot of
strength or stamina. but if you have to know the truth, you have to flip the coin and see the other side which can only be done after 60!.


Tue, 09 Sep 2003 12:25:49 GMT

This was a remarkable onam. one day prior we eat out at my sister's place, and on onam day we eat at the Rotary onam feast, to save the onam feeling, we did cook sort of onam feast at home for the afternoon, but that was that. The Rotary onam feast was superb and well organised. It was a treat.
Roshan (a muslim by birth) became Mahabali the King and was dressed as a King for the occasion.
Ladies from gujarati, marathi, rajasthani, hindustani and kerala cultures all came together in one
common attire of typical kerala, i.e. kasavu mundu or kasavu saree and danced the 'Kaikotti kali' to a thrilled audience. It was a marvellous feeling and to top it all a distinguished and qualified bharata natyam artist Saili Chandavarkar simultaneously performed the mohini attam below stage.
Padma had done the flower rangoli, one of the fastest yet, (we reached late and finished the whole
rangoli in flat 30 minutes. The 'para' of paddy with the coconut flower and the divinely burning bell metal lamp changed the ambience to one of divine expectation . As I said at the meeting, Mahabali was living and watching us in the hall at that moment.
That more than 20 rotarians had worn the kasavu mundu and shirt, the traditional kerala attire for men was unimaginable few years ago. Inter culture acceptance is here and no more sarcasm about the dhoti culture.
At the event, I wished there were more people inside the hall who will carry back more appreciation,
understanding of different cultures, its variety and the feeling of one family. Next year will be my onam as President and I have already chalked out how I can improve upon this years feat and make it still more memorable .


Tue, 22 Jul 2003 10:21:11 GMT

it is nice to know that some one reads me and comments on my journal apart from my daughter who is 'duty bound' and is probably doing it as per my wishes. I want to write a lot of things, and I have now decided to do it first in simple text and post the refined text.


Mon, 09 Jun 2003 07:07:20 GMT

i just remembered an old friend of mine who advised me to dress well when i said i did not bother much about dress.
'if you dress well your bosses will appreciate it and also know that you need to keep up dressing well, so you need more money. if you did nt they will assume you didnt bother much about lifestyle and so can sustain with less.
What was your last increase in salary?

money is not a dirty word

Mon, 09 Jun 2003 07:04:04 GMT

I have found from talking to scores of people recently that people do not want to talk of money are the ones who dont have enough of it. Money is needed for everything and anything, you cant do a thing without money. still why do people camouflage their lack of it by phisophosizing or acting contented. It is deceitful for any one to act they do not want any more of it. it only shows they cannot think beyond a limit. you can do lot of good things with money, atleast you can be free from want of money for the rest of your life. think of all the charitable institutions and awards and scholarships, memorials and monuments lasting centuries. if no body had more money than they needed just to elk out a living who would have left such legacies and monuments.
Most people have no idea what it means to be financially free. They get confused and mixed up with all the trash that people without money say and do, ultimately falling into the trap and enjoying the company of those miserables.
All problems cannot be solved by money, but i would rather have money and problems rather than only problems and no money.

a bus ride to thane

Mon, 26 May 2003 10:37:01 GMT

A special 4 wheel willy jeep with the seniors at work was to lead the way for us, packed in a rickety state transport bus rented for the occasion. A banner 'Devidayal' was flying from the bus windows. As the bus passed Kurla we began to see large tracts of open land on either side of the Agra Road. Coming on the Agra Road from Sion itself gave me a feeling I was going some distant places like Agra.
There were lots of hutments on either side of the road with large factories suddenly coming into view with barricaded fences. So I imagined an adventure filled shift to Thane. It was like a trip to an unknown strange town. Excitement and expectation was in the air.
As we passed Mulund and crossed over to Thane at the police check post, excitement ran high. I can compare it only with a ride in the national park conservation forest where one expected to see lions or tigers sleeping and yawning under the trees. No questions were asked at the police check post and we proceeded on the Agra Road through Thane outskirts. Well known land marks were Hari niwas, ST workshop, Castle Mills and then the left turn on Pokhran Road No 2 . Eastern express highway was under construction, away from the small suburbs of Ghatkopar, Vikhroli etc. along Thane creek. The Forest Office on Agra Road signalled that we were entering to a forest area. Agra Road was a small strip of about 30 ft. winding through tree filled landscape. So much of dust was raised by the passing bus that we were all covered with mud and dust inside.
As the bus approached a place called kapurbawdi, we were craning our necks to see if thee was any big well to be seen nearby . Along the way we passed by Makhmali Talao a very big lake then covered with green foliage. At kapurbawdi the bus veered off to a left lturn on a kutcha bumpy strip called Pokhran Road No 2. We soon crossed a small bridge over huge pipe lines carrying water into Mumbai from Tansa Lake.
As the bus ground to a halt near the company's new factory premises at what seemed to be he end of the road, there was jubilation and anxiety. And a lot of apprehension about how we were going to come to this place to work every day.


Mon, 26 May 2003 04:11:35 GMT

Oh yes, I will tell you how it all began. When I joined the Company in January 1961 near Mazgaon I was told that I will be required to work in the new Thane plant which was fast coming up. So I was anxious to visit Thane before formally shifting. More than everything I wanted to get away from Worli BDD Chawls where I stayed for almost 4 months. You should be lucky if you have not heard of BDD chawls. It was like 4 years. 23 of us crammed into one room probably the size of my living room now, about 12 x 20 . well, it was all we had. In one corner lthere was a built in sink at floor level . Cooking was done around the sink so all the water goes directly into the sink. Oh it was unbelievable. 3 or 4 of us will be working in the kitchen at any time and the rest will be either on duty or sleeping. You see it was simple. The rule was that not more than 5 will be in the room at any time. It was quite obvious it will be maintained that way. Almost all except me were working in the mills nearby in shifts. The whole programme was accordingly designed so no crowding takes place in the room. What I didnot like most was going to fetch milk every day morning. Milk card was more precious than money can buy. If any body wanted a card it was a gruesome grilling experience lasting over many months or years may be. Influence at the ministerial level was resorted to at times. The duty of collecting milk was allotted on rotating basis. I will go every Wednesday morning. The milk van arrives at about 5 am so there will be a long que before 5 . In the biting cold of the 60s I will be numbed standing in the cold and carrying the icecold milk bags into the room. No bag was given as people often misplaced it or took it away. After all all costs will be accounted in the mess charges . My first months bill was 23 rupees and I thought it was too much, left very little with me to send money home from my initial monthly salary of Rs 70/- per month. I cannot recollect the cost of vegetables, but it was very 'costly' living in Mumbai so it had to be around 50 paise per kilo of vegetables on an average. The BDD chawls were built by the mill owners to house mill workers and their families. There was a long passage separating rooms on either side. At the end was the common facilities like 2 toilets and 2 taps for bath. So one had had to stand in line first to use the bath area for brushing, then again stand in line for toilet. There will be constant hammering on the doors and one had to learn some valuable discipline of finishing the whole job in a neat 4 to 5 minutes. 'Jaldi aao', 'kya karta hain ander' or 'kam per late horaha hain , jaldi karo bhai, pani jayaga' were not spoken in soft tones. Walking along the passage itself was an art. Lots of people will be always sleeping in front of the rooms, sometimes like in an angular parking. So one had to balance the bucket, towel and soap as well as the fresh cloth to wear after bath. In between there will be small children in a hurry to go to toilet. Many times they will discharge outside in the passage and one had to be careful not to walk on it. Things have changed now, but you should have seen it 40 years ago, oh goodness to think of it now and remember those days. But my heart was filled with gratitude then, to the person who let me in, to god for giving me a shelter, to my friends who tolerated this little idiot totally new to Bombay and not knowing even Hindi to speak well. Inside the room as one enters on the right side was a heap of beds neatly stacked one upon another floor to the ceiling height. these were the beds of the mates who lived in, each having a different identity. so whenever some one returns fro[...]

down memory lane

Fri, 16 May 2003 09:01:53 GMT

The clutter clutter and banging of the monster jcb continued till late night, i watched from my 6th floor window 50 years of history being erased from the face of the earth. Each time a wall was knocked down, a steel beam felled on the ground, it sent waves of disgust, anguish and sadness into my heart. That i was present to witness its destruction made me feel all the more sad and helpless. Even though for many years recently, may be 8 to 10 years, the huge buildings and structures appeared dead and ghostly, whenever i look at it, it is full of people, activity, noise, lights and expectations.
In fact my 6th floor apartment is on the spot where about 20 years ago the owner of the factory was gheraoed and made to stand in the sun from 11 am till 5 in the afternoon. Then the police came in bus loads and without violence dispersed the angry misguided young men who lived off the factory which was part of the main factory now being demolished.
I grew up to be what i am today within those walls, it was there i became a man, it was there i met my wife, it was there i got my dreams and it was there i found the opportunity and means to nurture my dreams. Everything grew up with me, as i progressed in life, became a husband, a father, an executive, then a manager, then a builder all on my own .
The demand for time from my growing children competed with the demand for time from my new achievements and responsibilities. This was not a mere factory. It was an institution. I gave the best years of my health in the cheapest sell out because then things were different. values were different, ambition had collar and a tie. In return, I received my first sewing machine, my color tv, my stereo system, my own house and filled the house with all modern gadgets. I looked for more and partly i succumbed to music, philosophy, literature, arts, stacks of books and magazines . I became passionate about books which channelised and shaped my intellect. I became above average. All within those walls which are now being demolished.
There I met some of the lowliest of human existence and some of the highest. I learnt from both. The words of Man Singh the security guard turned brick maker ring in my ears even now. When confronted with his superiors who refused him leave to go to his nature nepal to see his children, he defiantly spoke his mind. It has thundered in my mind ever since he spoke . 'It is my fate that i worked under you, you scoundrel. I would rather be the servant of the master than the servant of the servant like you". 'Agar nouker ban na he to malik ka nouker bano, tere jaise nouker ka nouker nahin'.
From that day man singh became my guru for the wisdom he shared.
So I thought i will record for posterity my early life and growth within those walls . Part by part, i want to recreate the events, the joy and the sorrow during those years when I was par t of that institution.

times change

Fri, 08 Nov 2002 03:22:41 GMT

Like all other habits, journal writing is no exception. it was although everyone wanted to write everything couple of months ago. now suddenly every one is busy with their personal lives, no time to write.
it gives me a feeling, i have seen it all thro' my life, whats new in it. but still i cannot stop expressing myself why it fascinates me when people write and why it depresses me when they suddenly find other priorities.
today another feeling comes to my mind. when children grow up they decide who to spend time with not who is waiting for them . it is difficult to adjust to it, suddenly i felt like i did'nt live any more.

two worlds apart

Tue, 25 Jun 2002 05:45:11 GMT

these thoughts come to mind more often nowadays, particularly after seeing others attitudes towards events and themselves.
Like khusrow said most people live a mundane life, discuss politics, watch tv, discuss football or cricket and offer comments, and lead the average life. its like in a dance floor, you will always find two crowds. the ones who dance and the ones who watch others dance. I have been an observer too long and i have not learnt dancing yet by watching, so i have decided to dance and be watched.
continuing khusrows thinking, most people work till they cannot work any more, or till they are asked to go home and be replaced by someone more energetic, younger and cheaper. they cling to their status as though it is life and death. Little do they realise nobody ever bothers about them or their status. it is like you create some status in your mind and you protect it at all costs, what a waste of human potential.
you are useful to others only if you create something which affects others or vice versa. the people who make things happen will always have a lot of critics, but nobody talks about the ones who watch things happen, see the difference. in order to be useful to others, it must be inside you to relate to others, to change the way they think. Your attitude is the best protection of your dreams, goals and status.


Wed, 01 May 2002 16:08:25 GMT

this is what happened with the boy.
he came towards us took out a 500 rupee note pressed it into the hands of the contractor and said 'seth, ye ashok ko dena'. Who is ashok and where is he working, 'thane me hai ya clhembur me ya mulund me' asked the contractor. the boy said 'ashok hey na, usko maloom hai, tum ye paise usko dedo'. i thought this is funny the 'seth' does not know who ashok is and who is goin to give the money. After few more questions there was no specific answer, he kept on saying, 'usko maloom hai, tum sirf paise usko dedo'. I was thinking how can this boy trust his master with that 500 rupee note, which is definitely 4 to 5 days wages for hard work and how will the master find who is ashok.
Then the contractor said, these people trust me he knows his money is safe and i will find out ashok wherever he is and give the money. Any way who will cheat him of this money, so 'I will find out Ashok and give it to him'. The seed of a beautiful story was thus thrown at me, and I imagined all sorts of circumstances . How the helpless master will reach the money to the right hands.
Then he said, 'I may pay them late, get more work done during the day, but I can never take his money . If I cannot find Ashok at the sites, I will give it back to him next time'.
I am still weaving a story around this incidence and may be it will appear in these columns after few days.

life as it is

Wed, 01 May 2002 15:58:37 GMT

Last visit to Lonavala we were returning from the site . The contractor was with me. It was a day before New Years Day . There was this old woman and her son in front of her, both carrying a bag on their head, balanced, some vegetables and corriander leaves protruding from it. As soon as they saw the car approaching, the boy waved to stop. I stopped by the side and the old woman came towards me, wrinkled face, black in the hot sun, but with a smile you cannot get for a thousand dollars. She took off her hands from the bag on the head and folded them to say namaste. The bag was heaving to the left and right and she stood there balancing her head like a dancing toy . That face is unforgettable and I thought divine. there was no pretension there, the smile came from her heart coated with some sort of gratitude and blessing. I thought these people are so innocent, gods own children, they live to work for others, carry loads of stones, sand , cement and mortar so that you and i can live in good houses, drive on good roads and all for a pittance. Come evening they bathe in the construction tank water, cook their meals and assemble together for a few hours of singing and dancing. At thane construction site the same was happening every day and my mother would watch from the bed room window contemplating how happy and joyous they are. I have the woman's smiling face etched in my brain and someday will draw that picture on paper. It is too much load to carry.


Tue, 12 Feb 2002 06:22:01 GMT

bob andrews has shouted umpteen number of times "ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING "
I have come to believe very strongly, irrevocable belief, that no matter what happens outside you, you are your own master of attitude. No one can change my attitude toward certain things and certain people, certain ideas. And I am seeing all around small silly insignificant nuanses shadowing or eclipsing good attitudes in others. for instance, my attitude towards my mother , my wife, my daughters will never change. Howsoever intimidated, provoked or humiliated, it cannot change. The problem is one has go little high into the sky to see oneself moving about on earth among millions of other moving things. That perspective alone can save one from surrendering or capitulating into the abyss of intolerance, rotten attitude, disrespect of others and the like.
That is not a problem, but I am the cause of my problems and unless I change I cannot solve the problems.
The book "Leadership and self deception - Getting out of the box" by Stephen R Covey, published by The Arbinger Institute. One of the best books I read recently about how we deceive ourselves from morn to evening day in and day out. Somequotes worth noting "We can be hard and invite productivity and commitment or we can be hard and invite resistance and ill will.".."there is something deeper than behaviour that determines uue influence on others". I recommend the book to whoever reads my journal.


Sun, 03 Feb 2002 06:55:15 GMT

i saw in the journal of praveen that it takes discipline to keep a diary. It is a question of habit and I remembered the following which I read and heard in a cassette by Nancy. May be this will help to understand about self-discipline a little more.
John Maxwell - the following statement is of unknown origin but it nonetheless has tremendous wisdom.
" I am your constant companion...I