A daily update he is, for friends and family, an acquaintance to some, dear to others, a symbol of prayer to many, for the past several months. Waiting every evening, for the progress, the prognosis, we read, with jubilation or with despondence, depending on the contents of the report .

Daily misfortunes and crisis her portion, ups and downs, highs and lows , but calm and collected she remains. The life of her dear one, her loving mate is at stake, hanging in the balance, but undeterred she remains, as she goes about the difficult task of tending to him, with a devotion that equals none.

The battle is long and hard, yet with a smile, wearing the shield of protection, her faith unshaken, she stands firm, against the attack of the evil powers of the cosmic world. Attending to the strenuous demands of the day, undefeated by the crushing weight, ‘cause she knows, the battle belongs to the Lord .

Anxious moments, new trials and tribulations, daily she faces, only to watch them quickly erased, by the unfolding grace from above. Trusting in the Lord she prays, not for outcome, not for relief, but for comfort and pain-free days for her spouse. for peace and strength for herself, to handle the struggles each day.

Now at times, his life hanging by a thread , the pain she feels, we who read her updates, can only imagine. But her strength we see, her composure, her confidence in the Lord, which we admire. Teaching us, no matter what we are up against, no matter how great our challenges, the battle is always the Lord’s, and we can rely on Him .

Dear Father, we come to You with praise and thanksgiving, for Your salvation, for Your sanctification. We thank you, for Your love and abundant mercy, for Your protection and providence, that we enjoy, day after day.

Lord, we take so much for granted, our life, our well-being, our family and our creature comforts, which we receive, only by Your grace. But it is when we face troubles, when we feel that thorn in our flesh, that we draw close to You and there is no place we would rather be, than beneath the shadow of Your wings .

Today, Lord we come before you, with folded hands and on bent knees, praying for Your compassion on those who are sick, those who are suffering, , those who have lost family and friends, those who are rendered homeless, those who have been turned to refugees, overnight, all in the futile wars that are raging, in this world, today.

Heal the suffering, heal those who are struggling, those who are overcome by the grief of separation. Heal the ones who feel betrayed and abandoned, save the hunted and the captives, strengthen the weak, comfort those who are mourning. Be a shield around little children who are lost, let no evil come near them, be a fortress to those who seek shelter from harm.

O God of mercy and might, we believe that You are still on the throne, that nothing is impossible for You . We know You are compassionate and will take control of all the lawlessness, that is ruling the world. Reveal Your miracles, show us Your mighty deeds, heal and restore Your creation, show forth Your glory and let Your goodness and mercy be our portion, all the days of our lives .

India my country, a name to reckon with, a young nation, born in the year 1947, yet now one of the greatest democracies in the world. She is the Phoenix that rose from the ashes. Her captors, those who plundered and violated her, left her to die, with dire predictions of her quick demise. But rise she did, in seventy five years, a force to contend with. Her strength, her mighty population, namely the power of the young generation.

Notwithstanding, the violence that broke loose, when the British walked away, leaving a trail of destruction. The bloodshed of a partition, that was most awful, tearing a country brutally in two, displacing her children, causing untold misery, and yet, she did not buckle, but survived, to become a power to be recognised. In the seventy five years, her armed forces, have grown indestructible, and no friend nor foe can ever again, breach her borders .

Swathed in the tricolour, her arms outstretched from the east to the west, she welcomed all her people, to come and make a home within her. The policy of divide and rule,by the English, caused undue discord and division, but with her maternal love, she drew each one close, bringing unity in diversity, from the north to the south. Those elements, both within and without, trying to destabilise her, can never ever succeed, for ours is a strong and secular nation, as she has been for centuries .

Her age-old custom of generosity to those in need, opened the doors to the homeless, refugees from poor and war torn regions, seeking shelter in her land . The many religions, cultures, languages, traditions, and festivals she integrated in our society, and no power on earth can snatch, the peaceful existence of all communities. Our rich heritage of centuries, art and architecture, we each carry in us with pride and none can take away from us , our glorious history .

Her verdant forests and glades,the lofty mountains and hills, giving birth to mighty rivers that flow through her length and breadth, forming lush green valleys and fertile plains. After the agrarian revolution, she is a player in the international market and to some, known as the bread basket. Her wild life, the terra, fauna and flora, the beauty of the land, incomparable, defines who we her children are and no force on earth can rob us of that splendour .

Her children forced into ignorance by her captors , have in seventy five years, gained a level of literacy, that no other can boast. Her economy, which was in shambles, drained of resources when the British left, is now growing in leaps and. bounds. With our know-how, technology, and industrialisation, we rule the export market, in healthcare, pharmaceuticals, machinery and of course, information technology

Having the largest population, she is wooed by international companies, for her capacity for consumerism . The young we have many, a force to be feared and the world is watching India our country, which from nothingness, has grown so soon, to become a power to be reckoned with, a country and its people, once downtrodden, now reaching for the stars .

A nation, that was robbed and pillaged, dismissed as insignificant, much like a woman ravaged, and cast aside, rose to great heights, n seventy five years. She did not lie by the wayside, but worked diligently to reach great heights. A powerful voice now in world peace and conservation. Though she was vandalised, robbed and torn apart, she lost not her dignity. She stood before her abusers, firmly demanding freedom, from oppression . Not by arms and ammunition, not by spilling blood, but peaceful resistance. Until in the face of her determination, her captors, capitulated, vacated and set her free. Truly, a learning for each one of us .

Time runs by, chasing the hours, chasing the days, chasing the months and the years. It is yet another August fifteenth, thirty three years since, and not a moment goes by, without that passing thought, how different life would be,if it were not for that fateful day.

A day that dawned, like any other, with the promise of all good things, plans to celebrate the holiday, but life had a different scheme of things, a devious one. Everyone at home, special lunch prepared, a favourite of each, added to the menu . Waiting for the doorbell to ring, sat a mother at the table, for her child to return, a father watching the doorway, for his little girl to enter.

Finally, the sound of the bell, not the door but the phone. Alas, a death knell that put an end, to a way of life, as we had known. A tragedy that ripped the very foundation of our small family, changed each one of us, as a part died with her. The love, the laughter, our carefree days, buried under the weight of a bereavement, none too easy to bear. No celebration was ever the same, no happy moments, without the looming sadness .

Haunted by the loss, feeling cheated by destiny, viewing life with bitterness, we lived, often missing beautiful moments . The poor choices we made, a consequence of that dreadful day, some bearing bitter fruit, until this very day, bringing more sorrow, more anguish. Every August fifteenth, swamped by a wave of sorrow, remembering that awful Independence Day, that altered our lives irreversibly, binding us to grief, turning the axiom ‘this too shall pass‘, into a myth.

August fifteenth, a day we shared our grief as a family, memories of poignant moments and happy ones. But with the passing years, those close to her are gone, and am left alone carrying the burden. Often wondering, would it have been any different, would we have been better prepared, if forewarned ? What if it was a prolonged illness, would we have been reconciled ? Would she still be here, by my side, if it were not for that wretched day? All that is remaining, are questions, that can never be answered …

Avocados, a fruit, not best loved or the choice of many, was seldom on my shopping list, until a few years ago . Though packed with goodness, its popularity came rather late, but soon after, avocados dominated the health food market, and started appearing on my weekly list.

Though seasonal, butter fruit grows rather easily, in the South of our country, yet not so special with most, as it is pretty much an acquired taste. Present mostly in Mexican cuisine, it was not until the introduction of multicultural culinary, that avocados were introduced in gourmet meals, as dips, salads and the famous guacamole, which started to grace our tables.

Then in the early part of the century, she became the queen of the market, much sought after, for it is said, an avocado a day, can keep the doctor away. So it was, that in the year before the pandemic, I chose to plant avocado seeds, in small little pots. Not really expecting it to germinate, it was a pleasant surprise to see, first a small shoot, then a couple of leaves and very soon, little avocado seedlings.

Growing in leaps and bounds, soon they were healthy saplings. As the pots could hold them no longer, they were transferred to the ground. Lining our short drive, they stood, and we prayed they would survive. Three summers later and we have young trees, their boughs laden with the golden fruit, for our pleasure.

Oh, what joy it is, to witness this great miracle, avocados sprouted from a seed. Watching them grow from seed to seedlings, to little saplings, to young plants, to trees, yielding the very best fruits, a triumph like none other. The Greek proverb says , “A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they shall never sit.” Am I not then the most fortunate , to be able to reap the harvest of that which I sowed, to taste the fruit of my labour, and in whose shade I can sit ?

To my dearest friend, on her birthday, lots of love and good wishes, from the bottom of my heart. May the Lord bless you, with many more years to come and keep you safe in His arms, always.

‘Twas many years ago, when we first met. just starting out in my career was I ,and you gave me a referral. You were some years in the trade, and I a simple greenhorn, but with no reservations, you took me under your wing, and gave me a great start .

Ever since we have been friends, four decades or more, now , the fun, laughter and good times we had, bound us together with cords of love, that can never break. Even though we drifted apart, each to lead her own life, it was those memories we shared, like warm tendrils, on a bleak winter’s night, that carried us through the thick and thin.

After a pause, a break of many years, it was that we reconnected, to pick up where we left off, quite easily. Life as it happens, changes each one of us, some made stronger and better, some worn thin, worse for the wear, but you my dear, learnt to swim, even against the tide. You defied age and time, an inspiration to many, and it is indeed an honour to be your friend.

With lots of love 💕 and hugs 🤗,

The sun shone bright, after the rains the night before, promising to be a splendid day. But soon came the news of an infant, gone to his heavenly abode, a hundred and five days, is all he had on this earth .

Born premature, his chance of survival was very slim. Yet knowing that nothing is impossible for our Lord, as a family we prayed for his life to be spared . There were ups and downs, but through it all, in faith we clung to the hope, that the little one would be discharged by the end of the month, healthy and well .

Discharged he was, to his heavenly home . The young mother left shattered, her pain, immeasurable, her grief unfathomable. Her breaking heart, turned the sky dark. The air was still, as nature heard the wail of grief, and sorrow lay its heavy hand on many . A hundred and five days only, you could say, but the depth of a mother’s love for her child, is illimitable, a love that is born even before the baby is knitted in her womb, a love that can never be bound by time.

Hundred and five days, she sat by his side, watching over him, day and night. Talking to him, words of love, gay songs and lullabies she sang, to fill his little heart with joy. Until soon her beloved voice he knew, and the gentle touch of her hands, he recognised. The young mother, she kept her vigil, without slumber, without distractions, praying to save her little infant. But lo, the Lord had other plans, for His little angel . After his brief sojourn on earth, to learn of the selfless love of a mother, and a praying family, he was called back.

Grief, five letters, a dreaded word. A sadness, so monumental, an emotion, that can kill the very soul. Its origin from the beginning of time, from when man came to being, from the time of the first sin . Grief, due to the loss of loved ones, of material possessions, grief of rejection, grief of betrayal, especially by those close to us. Grief has many heads, that can crush us but none as cruel as the loss of a child .

Grief, a torment, an abysmal despair, that clouds one’s thoughts and actions. Struggling through the waves of anguish, grief is a darkness that grows, lingering in the shadows, to devour our very spirit. But as life is never without tragedies, fight we must those demons, not be embittered, or enslaved by grief. Let us like David, though he fasted and prayed, for the life of his infant son, did not mourn his loss, but shrugged off the spirit of sadness, knowing they will be reunited, in the hereafter.

It was quite recently, that a picture drew, comments and compliments. The portrait of one, not so pretty, bordering on the plain, some would say . Not one considered beautiful, not one to attract any attention, let alone praise, yet the capture, was picture perfect .

Wondering what could trigger this reaction, I look at the picture once again. The features, not so fine, irregular at best, are far from perfect. Is it the quizzical eyes, or the lips quirked in an enigmatic smile, or the expression that is whimsical? What could it be, that is appealing, to the eye of the beholder?

From time immemorial, man has tried, to capture pictures for posterity. Be it that of nature, be it of loved ones or of happy moments, to immortalise . First, only in the hearts and minds, then etched in stone, carved in wood, sketched on canvas, captured on camera and now on each one’s phone, as we try to preserve, that which is favourite to us or that which catches our fancy.

Photographers spend hours on end, sometimes even days, studying their subject, waiting for that perfect moment. Then it is, in that one instant, when the light is right, the subject is poised, and click, the perfect picture is captured, one worth the while, one worth the wait. Could it be, that there is a moment, when all things come together, in a single moment, to make perfect, that which is imperfect, to make it beautiful ?

And so it is in our lives, full of struggle, full of trials and hardships. Seldom perfect, never without worries, never without difficulties . But in all its travails, in all its agonies, there are those momentous moments, when the Heavens smile, and all things come together, to make it memorable, to make a beautiful instant in time.

Moments to carry with us, in our hearts and minds, moments that encourage us through the rough and tough,, moments made perfect, by the Divine, the One who perfects, all imperfections. We then know, life is worth the living, for no matter how bleak, the Almighty will weave beauty and light, through every hopeless situation .

Overnight rendered null and void, the thirty years of toil, since the start of ,our small enterprise. The inflation and rising costs, making it most unworkable, and garments out of India now they say, costs an arm and a leg .

Simple economics it is, the selling price going up in the market, lack of sales resulting in discounts, profit margins reduced to negligible, dropping the budget for new stocks. Soon there is a gap, that is widening, between the buying and selling.

Small vendors are the first to be cutoff, in this vicious game of survival . To accommodate the increasing raw material and production costs, manufacturing soon becomes unviable and they are slowly edged out of the race. It is one such perilous act, of quoting a few cents more, that now deemed us a non participant in the trade of export business, this year.

With one stroke, making the labour of four decades worthless, a fruitful career lost in an instant, leaving us feeling, fruitless. The connection of thirty years, ties developed, nourished by mutual benefits, now broken with no misgivings, leaving us wondering, are we defined by our profession, is that our only recognition, in a society that judges, only by success ?

Anxious about, what then becomes of us, if our profitable employment comes to an end, are we deemed useless ? Are we no longer contributors, do we become a burden to the economy? Like aimless, untethered kites, do we live, with no path or purpose, to surf the rest of our lives, with no gainful labour ? Saddened by the prospect, of leading a futile life, not beneficial to us or society, we wallow in the misery, of hopeless tomorrows .

Overcome by the fear of turning from indispensable, to dispensable, we retire in total despair. Then comes to mind a verse from the Bible, Psalm 139: 14. For we are created, fearfully and wonderfully, by our Creator, in His very own image. No matter that the world rejects us, sees us as unwanted, we will still remain to Him, precious, a priceless possession, from the womb to the tomb. And I know, if this is the end, He has a new beginning waiting for us and I am poised for the change!

Not long after the last reunion, we were planning a get together, for yet another dear friend, who announced her visit, with great excitement. Her short stay, though packed with urgent things to do, accommodated a lunch with her old school mates. And we were pleasantly surprised when one more friend, from overseas, joined us.

Those who left the city when young, to seek their fortune, often return eagerly, with a longing to relive the past. Hoping to revisit old memories, they expressed a desire to dine, at the much acclaimed Koshy’s restaurant, and all of us concurred .The iconic Parade cafe, known for it’s famous brunch, appams and stew, still has people waiting for a table on Sundays, several decades later.

Reaching the restaurant brought to mind, an age gone by. The early days, when young women in gowns, with parasols, women in Kanjeevaram sarees, decked in gold, men in their Sunday suit, a hat and a pocket watch, strolling down those quaint old streets, for a scrumptious meal at Koshy’s, after the Sunday mass.

More recently, the times when we were young, a Sunday brunch at Koshy’s, a treat only to celebrate special occasions and festivals. Followed by ice cream, kwality’s or Lakeview, depending on the significance of the celebration. After which came the much awaited trip to cubbon park, the train ride. Oh those days, were not so long ago, only half a century ago !

Today we seated ourselves, expecting to be taken back in time, to enjoy those moments we left behind. After relishing a delectable meal, we walked down Church street, trying to retrace our steps, trying to find the footprints of our youth, on the street that once belonged to us.

A moment, when time stood still, when we were in our teens once again. The familiar shops selling their wares, the knick knacks and the bric-à-brac. The smiling faces we once recognised, the exhilarating freedom, of being masters of our fate. A time when each moment was fun, with precious little to do, but enjoy, a time when the world was still ours to conquer.

Walking now on the sidewalk, to a rhythm long forgotten, we felt momentarily displaced, from another age. The faces that swarmed, no longer friendly, the shops we once frequented, nonexistent, the small cafés and eateries we patronised, vanished. The once lazy, quiet streets were gone, replaced by the grating noise of traffic, why even crossing the road, was a great challenge.

Time, an ever flowing stream, brings constant, inevitable change. We occasionally step out of the flow, hoping to recapture, memorable moments of the past. Often disappointed, at times even despairing,, we find not that which can never be again . But it was just a brief misstep, a passing one. Soon we were back in the flow. Sipping coffee at the new and fashionable RCB cafe, laughing and talking, enjoying ourselves, we were once again, stars of our time. We maybe sixty plus, but definitely adaptable.