Actions Speak Louder Than Words

 In my opinion, we become who we are from watching our father’s behave and act when life is at its oddest.  I am about to share two such incidents from different junctures in my life that have left a deep impression on me. I will use those incidents to illustrate the main point of my speech, which is: Actions speak louder than words.

From my very first speech here, you may remember that I was raised by my grandparents and spending time with my father was something I yearned for.  You must have already heard that a Father is a daughter’s first love and a son’s hero. My story only conforms to that idiom. Let me describe the two episodes that happened while growing up that showed me how much my father cares for me. It is very mundane but they corroborate my belief and my faith in my father.

As a child, I spent some of my summer holidays with my cousins, in their homes. I felt especially close to the two of them, the daughters of my paternal aunt. I learned to cycle, swim, type, and dance with them at different periods. I was an only child at that time and I really treasured these special moments I shared with my cousins.

The first incident happened when I was about 10. I was spending one of my summer holidays at my aunt’s place in Bangalore. My cousins and I wanted to have Cup’O noodles as a mid afternoon snack one day. There was only one left in their pantry. My cousins decided to share it among themselves without considering me at all. I felt very sad that they did not even ask me if I wanted any. I felt left out. I felt like I was not a part of them at all.  I was not sad about not getting any Noodles. I did not even like noodles all that much and especially not Cup’O noodles. I was deeply disappointed as I realized that I did not belong to them as much as they belonged to each other.

That evening when I spoke to my father over the phone I did not mention anything about that incident. But, I surely must have sounded sad and depressed. My father took the very next flight from Cochin to Bangalore, which is where I was. He was there in my aunt’s house later that night. Him coming over for me, made me extremely happy. He took me outside and asked me what happened. I had tears rolling down my cheeks when I told him that I just felt left out and lonely. I also told him that nothing really had happened. He understood and consoled me. We went back home the next day. Now, when I think of that whole situation, I feel happy. I remember that incident so fondly, not because of anything he said to me but because of him leaving his work and everything, just because I didn’t sound happy. That incident has made me conscious of the fact that my happiness means the world to my father.

The second incident very similar to this previous one happened when I was about 19. I was pursuing my undergraduate degree in Chennai. One of my professors asked me out on a movie date. He even threatened me by saying that if I didn’t go out with him, he would give me bad grades for my practicals/internals. I was brought up in a belief system that taught me to treat Teachers as more important than Gods. The order in which one should offer reverence to is:  Mother, Father, Teacher, and then, only then, God (“Matha, Pitha, Guru, Daeivam” ). Even when I chanted a prayer before every, I pictured every teacher who has ever taught me. I worshiped my teachers. When such a revered teacher of mine, made such a preposterous proposition, I was in a dilemma.

  That evening when I spoke to my father I didn’t sound myself at all. My father rented a Taxi and drove down 750Kms from Cochin to Chennai and met me at my college in the next morning. He met the Head Of my Department. They spoke for a while. Later my father and I went out for lunch. I did not at that time tell him about the real issue that was bothering me. In fact, until I drafted this and shared it with him, I am sure he was oblivious of it.  Seeing him that day gave me the having confidence that my father is there to support me irrespective of what I get myself into.

My grandmother used to say that I have the best father in the whole world; a father who would even attempt to get me the moon to satisfy my slightest whim. Ever after that incident, I have never spoken to my father when I am even slightly disturbed for the fear of having him show up in front of me the very next minute.  The faith that my father is there for me, is my biggest strength. My father has demonstrated to me that I am the most important part of his life by his actions.  Actions do speak louder than words. I would suggest to everyone to let your words teach, but let it be your ACTIONS that do all the speaking. 

Ramblings from My Childhood

The most interesting aspect of my life so far has been my very peculiar childhood. I keep going back there to draw up inspirations for my speeches here. I have already spoken about various incidents from my childhood in my previous speeches. Today I am going to talk about my hobbies and pastime as a child. I was an only child for nearly all of my childhood. That meant that I had all my free time to myself. Unlike other girls of my age, I had no interest in dressing up, make up, or dolls. Instead, I preferred to climb tree, make bows from broken branches, arrows from midribs of coconut leaves and target practice on barks of banana trees. I loved to play and drench myself in the muddy waters in the paddy fields behind. I did not have friends, not even imaginary ones!  I was not imaginative enough to create imaginary ones and there were no children in my age group in my neighborhood for the real ones.

I might have been around 8 when this girl, Manju, who was about my age moved,  in to this new home next door with her family.  I went over and made friends with her almost immediately. We would play badminton and other more civilized games in the evenings. Every now and then, I got to take her out to the paddy fields behind and score her some shouting from her mother. On one such occasion I spotted a vegetable that was grown in our backyard growing in abundance in the water without any care or supervision. I wondered why nobody had paid any attention to this! Manju and I decided to go ahead and enlighten our folks with this new discovery of ours, but before that, we decided to test it to see if it was indeed the same thing. We both took a bite of the root. Within minutes both of us developed hives all over, threw up continuously and could not breathe.   We were both taken to hospital and were given antihistamines. After I was better, my grandfather took me out to the fields and asked me to pinpoint what exactly I had eaten. I showed him the plant. It was Wild taro, a plant known to be so toxic that even its sap is harmful. People wear gloves to touch it even. It looks just like a thinner version of the regular taro which is used extensively in the kitchen at home. I learned it the real hard way never to taste test strange substances, way before my first chemistry lab! I also learned that looks can be deceiving! Real life lessons learned firsthand! Manju and her family moved out shortly after. I wonder if I had any role in that decision of theirs. Maybe, my spirit was a little too free for them to contain and they were not interested in her learning such valuable lessons with me anymore.

I did not really mind my solitude all that much before, but having had Manju to play with for a while, I missed companionship. I went back to my usual loitering on and around trees, climbing inside our well, figuring out ways to get to the ground from the second floor terrace of our house without using the stairs. Climbing sort of had become my passion then. I admired the person who used to climb our coconut trees. Now, climbing a tree is easy. Anyone can do that! They have branches that allow for a strong hold or grip. Coconut trees are palms and thus have no branches. I took it up as a challenge to learn to climb coconut trees. I started on one that was may be 30 or 40 feet tall, probably quarter the size of a typical coconut tree. I learned that it was all about coordinating the hands and the feet movements. I plucked (wonder if plucked is the right translation,  it is said that Eskimos have 1000 synonyms for snow,   similar to that we, Malayalees, have 1000 names for the different aspects of coconut and coconut trees. The literal translation for what I want to convey, would be to drop a coconut. Anyhow, I will stick to plucked. I plucked my first coconut and was so proud of it that I had to share it with my grandmother, who promptly chided me for climbing trees. She said it was not an appropriate thing to do for a girl. I had not paid any heed to her words and continued climbing until the day that I climbed to the very top of a not-so-small mango tree. The thin branch decided I was too heavy for it. In a moment, I was lying on the ground with the tree top, bleeding from a straight line cut on my lower abdomen caused by the sharp corrugated edge of the severed tree top and covered in a million fire ants. My grandmother had heard the loud thud and had rushed to my rescue. I remember clearly that even at that distressed moment, my grandmother firmly reminding me that decent girls do not climb trees.  In her opinion, hobbies for good, decent girls were activities such as singing, dancing, and stitching, not climbing. She was eternally in an attempt to make a good girl out of me. As part of that attempt, I was taught south Indian classical music (Carnatic music) for 12 years, I cannot sing a single line in the right pitch, not now and not then. I was taught south Indian classical dance (Bharatanatyam) for about the same time. I was also taught to stitch, sew, and knit.  I remember, as my first stitching project and probably the only one I have ever undertaken, I stitched a yellow blouse for my grandmother with a crooked neck line and sleeves at different lengths. She would proudly wear it and embarrass me so often. In short, I cannot sing, dance, nor stitch. I always wondered what talent God gave me, and always concluded that God just forgot to include talent in my package! Nevertheless, I enjoy being me and would not have it any other wayJ!

Desiderata for Happiness

"Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery.

But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.

Neither be critical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. 

Be careful. 

Strive to be happy."

© Max Ehrmann 1927

Why does money matter so much!

 Why does money matter so much? That is the topic that is eating away my mind today. I decided to put my mind over money and did a web search for it and liked the following excerpt I found:

"We like to think that we are logical, rational beings. We want to believe that we weigh the pros and cons of each decision and choose the most effective course of action before we act. However, when it comes to money, our brains haven't evolved much beyond those of our furry friends.

Money is a hot topic. Studies show that it is the no. 1 source of stress in our lives, in good times and bad. Money is a primary source of conflicts in couples, and the no. 1 cause of divorce in the early years of marriage. Whether it is a steady build-up of funds over the years or a significant real or imagined sudden financial gain or loss, money comes wrapped in an emotional package; and when we are emotionally charged we become rationally challenged. Neuroscience has shown that when our emotions run high, our logical, rational brain shuts down. When it comes back online, we typically rationalize our behaviors. Simply put, when it comes to investment decisions made when we are anxious or excited, we can't trust our instincts. When we let our animal brain make our investment decisions, it wreaks havoc on our financial lives.....Resist the urge to run with the herd. Whether it is today or tomorrow, one thing we know for sure: the herd will always run itself right off a cliff."

 Another interesting link:

http://www.dibbleinstitute.org/Documents/MH-SL-color-LR.pdf

I strongly believe in Dr. Billy Graham's quote : "When wealth is lost, nothing is lost; when health is lost, something is lost; when character is lost, all is lost."

I don't disrespect money in any way. I have never wanted to be a millionaire. I only want enough money to live a happy, healthy life. I realize that there are honest ways to make money and there are devious (not-so-honest) ways to make money. I am not sure if I will be able to differentiate between the honest rich people and the not-so-honest rich people. Almost as a defense mechanism, I am just wary of anybody who is rich. I probably need to grow up some more and learn to discern.

The whimsical me - Part 1

Patriotism 

"Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism - how passionately I hate them!" -  Albert Einstein

"A nation is a society united by a delusion about its ancestry and by common hatred of its neighbours." - William Ralph Inge

I have always wondered about what exactly patriotism means. To me, the country I was born in means nothing more or nothing less than the country I live in. Although, I have to admit that I do feel a strange connection and superfluous pride when I talk about my native country.  I am more aware of the way of life, the cultural heritage in my native country than anywhere else in the world.   I understand that it is very common for a human being to be attached to something, or someone that they are used to, rather habituated to. I got to experience it first hand recently when I lost my coffee mug. I felt  miserable for the next few days. I actually mourned its loss! I could not believe that I became so disgustingly materialistic. That realization   got me to think more and I ended up comparing the feelings of patriotism to that of materialism. Both arise from a sense of attachment. Perhaps, it is this attachment that is the key to all sorrows in life. What about attachment to another human being? Is it glorified as love?

My Basic Values

Why do you need values to live life? Does having values make you feel that you are living life in a better way?  Having a set of values to live by surely make one happier and more lovable. There are three basic value that I treasure; honesty, modesty, and courage. They are the core value that I yearn for in myself and in the people I interact with. I am lucky to have in my life people who have those values and much much more. Everyone I know is a better person than I am and that keeps me inspired to strive for a better me.

I recently read an article that said that modest people are not usually successful. After thinking about it for a while, it started to make sense to me. The few successful people I know usually directly or indirectly brag.

 The spiritual background I am from, sees even the very word  'I' as something that is not true. When there is no 'I 'and no 'you', then there is no fear. When there is no fear, all the values that I treasure, freely exist. The chase for success, fame, and money eventually erodes these values.

"What About me?"

I found this very appealing while browsing and decided to just have it in here.

"Women through the ages have lived life on terms laid out by men. She has lived a straight – jacketed life, trained by her father, reined by her husband and buried by her son. Her intellect, emotions and attitudes have been fine-tuned to suit men, the way men want her. The laws of the country and the civilized world today profess equality of man and woman, while accepting an inherent difference; yet this equality has not permeated into real life. The woman of today as of yore, is still given roles to play, rules to live, by men; who carve her into a more acceptable form as defined by an unconscious culture.The collective conscious that decides of how and what a woman should be, is finally what decides the fate of the woman, however much we profess equality of man and woman."