Why A Thousand Oaks Cannot Stop a Single gun .

 We seem to be passing through  a dangerously critical time in History where insanity and madness seem to be the order of the day . Why else would we be reading of the things we do . Why else would there be so much senseless bloodshed .

Resigning ourselves to FATE is not the answer. More security is not the answer . Then what is ?

We need a new mindset and being in the Education field for the last 40 years I believe that Education is the answer .

At the present moment Education is the only thing that can set the wheels in motion .

We need people to think – think afresh and catch them young .

The menace of Guns is not going to go away anytime soon – its seen a slow build up and it will take time.

Will there be more violence? – Unfortunately the answer is YES

Will more innocent lives be lost? – Say what we will but that is going to happen .

So be prepared for more and start thinking .

The quicker – the better .

A few lines in contemplation ……

 

More senseless shooting.
More violence.
More deaths. 
Innocent people who needed to live for themselves and for their loved ones .

Candle light vigils

Bouquets and tears
Newspaper headlines
Television news.
Interviews and viewpoints 
Discussions and debates 
A call for peace 
A call to ban guns
The gun control debate rises again

The blame game begins .
They blame the Republicans 
They blame the Democrats  ?

They blame the President

They blame the youth 
They blame the wars 
They blame it on depression
They blame it on society 
They blame it on family upbringing 

It's tiring
It's depressing 
It's sad 
It fills the conman man with rage 
It makes him / her want to cry.
To ask WHY
But tears have never solved anything .
Never made a dead man come alive.
STOP .STOP .STOP

It's not needed.
It's not the answer .
There has to be another way 

I believe

That Education is that way

 

We need better schools & better  classrooms

We need better teachers & more awareness

Teach them now – Tell them how

Catch them young
It’s the  way to sanity 
It’s the way to peace 
It’s the way to love .

 

 

 

Why A Thousand Oaks Cannot Stop a Single gun .

 We seem to be passing through  a dangerously critical time in History where insanity and madness seem to be the order of the day . Why else would we be reading of the things we do . Why else would there be so much senseless bloodshed .

Resigning ourselves to FATE is not the answer. More security is not the answer . Then what is ?

We need a new mindset and being in the Education field for the last 40 years I believe that Education is the answer .

At the present moment Education is the only thing that can set the wheels in motion .

We need people to think – think afresh and catch them young .

The menace of Guns is not going to go away anytime soon – its seen a slow build up and it will take time.

Will there be more violence? – Unfortunately the answer is YES

Will more innocent lives be lost? – Say what we will but that is going to happen .

So be prepared for more and start thinking .

The quicker – the better .

A few lines in contemplation ……

 

More senseless shooting.
More violence.
More deaths. 
Innocent people who needed to live for themselves and for their loved ones .

Candle light vigils

Bouquets and tears
Newspaper headlines
Television news.
Interviews and viewpoints 
Discussions and debates 
A call for peace 
A call to ban guns
The gun control debate rises again

The blame game begins .
They blame the Republicans 
They blame the Democrats  ?

They blame the President

They blame the youth 
They blame the wars 
They blame it on depression
They blame it on society 
They blame it on family upbringing 

It's tiring
It's depressing 
It's sad 
It fills the conman man with rage 
It makes him / her want to cry.
To ask WHY
But tears have never solved anything .
Never made a dead man come alive.
STOP .STOP .STOP

It's not needed.
It's not the answer .
There has to be another way 

I believe

That Education is that way

 

We need better schools & better  classrooms

We need better teachers & more awareness

Teach them now – Tell them how

Catch them young
It’s the  way to sanity 
It’s the way to peace 
It’s the way to love .

 

 

 

Allahabad - Summer holidays were fun

Summer holidays as a young boy in Allahabad , Uttar Pradesh were fun times.

All schoolchildren awaited them anxiously and they were made use of, so to say, from the very first day.

I have fond memories of waking very early on day one of the vacation , making myself a cup of steaming hot  tea , picking up the newspapers which had been deftly thrown into the verandah ,   taking the transistor out into the compound and switching  on Radio Ceylon .

The next hour from 6 .00 to 7.00 am was then spent listening to ‘TOP OF THE POPS’ – a well-known and much loved programme . The Radio Jockeys – I guess they were just known as presenters or announcers way back then- played the best music the world had to offer and their speaking was kept to the minimum. I do not remember them giving away freebies or holding radio competitions either.

For a few years, I also remember going to Asansol to visit relatives and then on to   Calcutta, to visit cousins who stayed at the Titigarh paper mills a short distance away. However most summer vacations were spent in Allahabad itself.

As we stayed in the Railway colony, there were plenty of friends in and around the vicinity and hence we were never short of good company and things to keep ourselves occupied.

Caroms, Ludo, Snakes and Ladders , Chinese checkers , Chess , Monopoly, Marbles, seven tiles   and card games  took up large portions of the day   but cricket , football and ‘Gulli danda’   took center stage . Evenings were for Kick the can, Police, and thieves!

Be they the indoor games or the ones on the road outside, they were fiercely contested and no quarters were asked for or given. If you were not playing, you were either a vociferous spectator taking sides or a judge or umpire often being judge and jury.

Learning all about  Team spirit , Team building ,  Leadership, Respect , Standing up for oneself, Rules ,skills and expertise in games  and  above all - good health-  were what we gained  . 

Cuts, bruises, sprains and an occasional fractured arm were all part and parcel of the summer holidays. There were arguments and occasional fights and adults never entered the picture. No one thought of complaining to parents and if by chance one did so, they were ostracized and spent a few lonely days looking on from the sidelines and licking their wounds until such time all was forgiven – then they joined in even more enthusiastically – a lesson had been learnt and was seldom repeated.

Rain, hail, storm or sunshine, the fun and frolic continued. No one had heard of Sunscreen lotion or SPF and being sun tanned or to put it in simple language getting ‘sun burnt’ was expected. Colds , coughs and allergies came and went unnoticed and antibiotics were for critical illnesses only .

Yes, we occasionally suffered from heat exhaustion and a friend once had heat stroke but he was given umpteen cold baths and ‘mango panna’ to drink and he lived to tell the tale for the rest of the vacation. Food was wholesome and fresh air aplenty and everyone looked fresh and happy.

There were also chores to be done like cleaning the house, running simple errands, cycling to the market to purchase meat or to deliver a note to an adult. Even then, a few friends would cycle off together and that too would turn into a mini adventure – buying snacks along the way, breaking plumbs from some tree on the road or climbing into a compound to steal a few guavas from someone’s garden. It was all harmless fun and we had a blast.

Coming to think of it, fruit was high on our agenda. We knew in whose house there were fruit trees and where we could manage to steal some. Mind you - Mangoes, plumbs and guavas were available in plenty in the market and were quite affordable but the thrill of stealing them and not being caught was far too much to resist for a teenager. Being chased by the owner’s dogs, shouted at by the owner and even called thieves were all worth the effort.

I also remember cycling with a friend to our church at about two in the afternoon in the hot sun, jumping into the church compound , climbing a tree and filling a sack with raw mangoes ,then hauling it over the wall and cycling off.

Once the man who looked after the field of fruit trees spotted us and he yelled at us at the top of his voice. We were terrified lest he report us to the parish priest and we be hauled up the next day but all’s well that ends well and we escaped unscathed!

Coincidentally all us teens were very active in the church activities as well and had probably spotted the mangoes few days earlier and planned the heist methodically and to perfection.

Pocket money, if any, was meagre and was spent on marbles, paper sweets and a concoction called ‘Churan’.

Those were days of simple pleasures and simple times and I miss them.

Allahabad - Summer holidays were fun

Summer holidays as a young boy in Allahabad , Uttar Pradesh were fun times.

All schoolchildren awaited them anxiously and they were made use of, so to say, from the very first day.

I have fond memories of waking very early on day one of the vacation , making myself a cup of steaming hot  tea , picking up the newspapers which had been deftly thrown into the verandah ,   taking the transistor out into the compound and switching  on Radio Ceylon .

The next hour from 6 .00 to 7.00 am was then spent listening to ‘TOP OF THE POPS’ – a well-known and much loved programme . The Radio Jockeys – I guess they were just known as presenters or announcers way back then- played the best music the world had to offer and their speaking was kept to the minimum. I do not remember them giving away freebies or holding radio competitions either.

For a few years, I also remember going to Asansol to visit relatives and then on to   Calcutta, to visit cousins who stayed at the Titigarh paper mills a short distance away. However most summer vacations were spent in Allahabad itself.

As we stayed in the Railway colony, there were plenty of friends in and around the vicinity and hence we were never short of good company and things to keep ourselves occupied.

Caroms, Ludo, Snakes and Ladders , Chinese checkers , Chess , Monopoly, Marbles, seven tiles   and card games  took up large portions of the day   but cricket , football and ‘Gulli danda’   took center stage . Evenings were for Kick the can, Police, and thieves!

Be they the indoor games or the ones on the road outside, they were fiercely contested and no quarters were asked for or given. If you were not playing, you were either a vociferous spectator taking sides or a judge or umpire often being judge and jury.

Learning all about  Team spirit , Team building ,  Leadership, Respect , Standing up for oneself, Rules ,skills and expertise in games  and  above all - good health-  were what we gained  . 

Cuts, bruises, sprains and an occasional fractured arm were all part and parcel of the summer holidays. There were arguments and occasional fights and adults never entered the picture. No one thought of complaining to parents and if by chance one did so, they were ostracized and spent a few lonely days looking on from the sidelines and licking their wounds until such time all was forgiven – then they joined in even more enthusiastically – a lesson had been learnt and was seldom repeated.

Rain, hail, storm or sunshine, the fun and frolic continued. No one had heard of Sunscreen lotion or SPF and being sun tanned or to put it in simple language getting ‘sun burnt’ was expected. Colds , coughs and allergies came and went unnoticed and antibiotics were for critical illnesses only .

Yes, we occasionally suffered from heat exhaustion and a friend once had heat stroke but he was given umpteen cold baths and ‘mango panna’ to drink and he lived to tell the tale for the rest of the vacation. Food was wholesome and fresh air aplenty and everyone looked fresh and happy.

There were also chores to be done like cleaning the house, running simple errands, cycling to the market to purchase meat or to deliver a note to an adult. Even then, a few friends would cycle off together and that too would turn into a mini adventure – buying snacks along the way, breaking plumbs from some tree on the road or climbing into a compound to steal a few guavas from someone’s garden. It was all harmless fun and we had a blast.

Coming to think of it, fruit was high on our agenda. We knew in whose house there were fruit trees and where we could manage to steal some. Mind you - Mangoes, plumbs and guavas were available in plenty in the market and were quite affordable but the thrill of stealing them and not being caught was far too much to resist for a teenager. Being chased by the owner’s dogs, shouted at by the owner and even called thieves were all worth the effort.

I also remember cycling with a friend to our church at about two in the afternoon in the hot sun, jumping into the church compound , climbing a tree and filling a sack with raw mangoes ,then hauling it over the wall and cycling off.

Once the man who looked after the field of fruit trees spotted us and he yelled at us at the top of his voice. We were terrified lest he report us to the parish priest and we be hauled up the next day but all’s well that ends well and we escaped unscathed!

Coincidentally all us teens were very active in the church activities as well and had probably spotted the mangoes few days earlier and planned the heist methodically and to perfection.

Pocket money, if any, was meagre and was spent on marbles, paper sweets and a concoction called ‘Churan’.

Those were days of simple pleasures and simple times and I miss them.

Minister and the Jhelum Express

 

 

Minister And The Jhelum Express

 

 

Last week, a minister with time on his hands (as usual) and a burning desire to feel the pulse of the common men, decided to travel 2nd class from Pune to Delhi in India by the Jhelum Express. What better time to do this than the summer vacation when 75 percent of the Indian population is on the move – this was a swell idea indeed – a sweltering one to be precise!

 

 

Making a reservation wasn’t too bad. I took a little under two hours and what with the jostling crowd and the brusque lady at the reservation counter, things didn’t seem as bad as he’d heard. Little did he know that the fun was only just beginning.

 

 

A bombshell in the press a few days later roused the minister from his siesta. “Are you sure your railway reservation is genuine”? screamed the headlines. The article went on to give details about illegal reservations touts and black-marketing of tickets.  The minister was composure personified – his reservation was genuine and confirmed – or so he thought. D-day arrived and on making enquiries he was informed that the trained was ‘indefinitely late’ in railway parlance that could mean anything from 15 minutes to 15 hours

 

 

After what seemed like eternity in hell, the train finally arrived and in spite of being ‘free of all’ the Hon. Minister was shocked to see someone else occupying his berth. That’s not all, the other person’s reservation also showed him to be the rightful claimant to the berth! Accusations and abuses were freely traded with fellow passengers taking sides and giving suggestions, but before the acrimonious discussion could get worse, better sense prevailed. They both then decided to wait for the ticket collector to arrive and sort the matter out. This ‘God incarnate’ as usual arrived well after the official ‘lights out’ and make his presence felt with a lot of loud talk and boisterous laughter. Fellow passengers seemed to enjoy the banter and there was a general feeling of goodwill with a party atmosphere prevailing in the compartment well after 10:00pm.

 

 

Not recognizing the Hon. Minister, who was travelling incognito, the ticket collector glanced at his chart and ordered him to pick up his belongings and move elsewhere. Despite the fact that it was 10:30pm, who could dare argue, as two officious looking  Railway Policemen were accompanying the Ticket collector on his rounds and they sure made a fearsome trio.

 

 

At the new place, the window couldn’t be opened, the lights didn’t go off and the fan refused to work. Being the ingenious type, the  Hon. Minister took out his pocket comb and spun the fan into action. Then covering his face with a towel he tried to grab ‘forty winks’ amidst the hustle and bustle which continued unabated all night. Was this fun or what?

 

 

By 6’o’clock the next morning there was pandemonium let loose, with unauthorized travelers sprawled all over. Tradesmen plied their wares freely and the assortment of eatables and goodies available would have put a mini market to shame.

 

Our minister then completed an obstacle course and lined up near the toilet for his morning ablutions. The stench was unbearable and the water scarce. After struggling with jammed latches, broken taps and looking at his disheveled state in a cracked mirror, the minister was fuming. Things were really hotting up indeed!

 

 

At the next station he rushed out searching for the elusive tap and managed with difficulty to procure a mug full of ‘liquid gold’. Back inside and presto, his berth had been occupied by a lady with three children – all comfortable and smiling! Their luggage came in all shapes and sizes and among other things included a parrot in a cage, a sack full of wheat and a tricycle.

 

 

The happy family played ‘Arab and the Camel’ with the minister and soon occupied the full berth. The youngest knocked over the minister’s water and they all had a hearty laugh – the minister fumed once again and turned red under the collar. He was appalled at the chaos in a supposedly reserved compartment – the filth, the dust, the unauthorized passengers, the innumerable vendors – where was the ticket collector? The cleaner? The railway police? The water?

 

 

At the next stop the Hon. Minister could bear it no longer. He picked up his suitcase, got down and vanished – never to be seen again. Who can blame him? His disappearance remains a mystery forever.

Minister and the Jhelum Express

 

 

Minister And The Jhelum Express

 

 

Last week, a minister with time on his hands (as usual) and a burning desire to feel the pulse of the common men, decided to travel 2nd class from Pune to Delhi in India by the Jhelum Express. What better time to do this than the summer vacation when 75 percent of the Indian population is on the move – this was a swell idea indeed – a sweltering one to be precise!

 

 

Making a reservation wasn’t too bad. I took a little under two hours and what with the jostling crowd and the brusque lady at the reservation counter, things didn’t seem as bad as he’d heard. Little did he know that the fun was only just beginning.

 

 

A bombshell in the press a few days later roused the minister from his siesta. “Are you sure your railway reservation is genuine”? screamed the headlines. The article went on to give details about illegal reservations touts and black-marketing of tickets.  The minister was composure personified – his reservation was genuine and confirmed – or so he thought. D-day arrived and on making enquiries he was informed that the trained was ‘indefinitely late’ in railway parlance that could mean anything from 15 minutes to 15 hours

 

 

After what seemed like eternity in hell, the train finally arrived and in spite of being ‘free of all’ the Hon. Minister was shocked to see someone else occupying his berth. That’s not all, the other person’s reservation also showed him to be the rightful claimant to the berth! Accusations and abuses were freely traded with fellow passengers taking sides and giving suggestions, but before the acrimonious discussion could get worse, better sense prevailed. They both then decided to wait for the ticket collector to arrive and sort the matter out. This ‘God incarnate’ as usual arrived well after the official ‘lights out’ and make his presence felt with a lot of loud talk and boisterous laughter. Fellow passengers seemed to enjoy the banter and there was a general feeling of goodwill with a party atmosphere prevailing in the compartment well after 10:00pm.

 

 

Not recognizing the Hon. Minister, who was travelling incognito, the ticket collector glanced at his chart and ordered him to pick up his belongings and move elsewhere. Despite the fact that it was 10:30pm, who could dare argue, as two officious looking  Railway Policemen were accompanying the Ticket collector on his rounds and they sure made a fearsome trio.

 

 

At the new place, the window couldn’t be opened, the lights didn’t go off and the fan refused to work. Being the ingenious type, the  Hon. Minister took out his pocket comb and spun the fan into action. Then covering his face with a towel he tried to grab ‘forty winks’ amidst the hustle and bustle which continued unabated all night. Was this fun or what?

 

 

By 6’o’clock the next morning there was pandemonium let loose, with unauthorized travelers sprawled all over. Tradesmen plied their wares freely and the assortment of eatables and goodies available would have put a mini market to shame.

 

Our minister then completed an obstacle course and lined up near the toilet for his morning ablutions. The stench was unbearable and the water scarce. After struggling with jammed latches, broken taps and looking at his disheveled state in a cracked mirror, the minister was fuming. Things were really hotting up indeed!

 

 

At the next station he rushed out searching for the elusive tap and managed with difficulty to procure a mug full of ‘liquid gold’. Back inside and presto, his berth had been occupied by a lady with three children – all comfortable and smiling! Their luggage came in all shapes and sizes and among other things included a parrot in a cage, a sack full of wheat and a tricycle.

 

 

The happy family played ‘Arab and the Camel’ with the minister and soon occupied the full berth. The youngest knocked over the minister’s water and they all had a hearty laugh – the minister fumed once again and turned red under the collar. He was appalled at the chaos in a supposedly reserved compartment – the filth, the dust, the unauthorized passengers, the innumerable vendors – where was the ticket collector? The cleaner? The railway police? The water?

 

 

At the next stop the Hon. Minister could bear it no longer. He picked up his suitcase, got down and vanished – never to be seen again. Who can blame him? His disappearance remains a mystery forever.

Is writing vanishing ?

Was clearing out some old papers the other day and came across a bunch of cards- birthdays , Anniversary, Christmas, Easter , Get well Soon , Congratulations …….
They were from my mother who passed on 3 years ago . I went through the cards and began reminiscing – sure brought a tear to my eye and set me thinking . She loved sending cards and she made sure to write a few lines as well with news about herself and questions about us . Reading through those cards brought back wonderful memories . They gave me a warm fuzzy feeling – yes I felt good .
In this fast paced world that we live in today , life is always in “Fast Forward” and we have no time nor inclination to stand and stare .
It’s a waste of time to stop to smell the roses , to try the road not taken , to lie in bed and relax .
I remember as a young boy using post cards , inlands, aerograms & stamped envelopes to write to relatives and friends . The joys of putting pen to paper is a long lost art and something that the present and future generation will consider a waste of time .
Very few people including me , send card by the mail any more – not sure when was the last time I licked a stamp and stuck it on an envelope . Yes we licked the stamps ! Maybe yukky but it was done by almost everyone !.
The whole process of writing with your hands, folding, inserting, addressing the envelope, sticking postage stamps and finally posting the letter in a post office is very time consuming for the present generation and people are running out of time or so they feel.
However, with each day serving as a linguistic frenzy and a meaningless race against time , we find that words and sentences often aren’t used in the way we so desire.
Small talk with awkward coworkers, someone bragging about their cute , new born , 7 pound baby on Facebook or telling the world where they went for dinner and what they ate , group projects with dead weight members – it is all very transient and often, discouraging and totally uninspiring .
I, for one, have started to wonder when communication became so cold meaningless. When did conversation with another human being lose its entire sentiment? When did we start speaking in 140 characters or less?
You can’t possibly get to know the depths of another human like this, nor can you adequately express your feelings toward them. It’s often rude the way we try and abbreviate anything and everything
So there were job applications , greeting cards on occasions , friendly letters to family , letters to pen pals and love letters .
I have known of friends who wrote and received a letter every day for over a three year span to and from a to be spouse and they have been married for over 30 years !
Today a letter isn’t a fast enough way to communicate the changes in people lives. I guess that accounts for Instant nodles as well .
In this age of the internet and social media everything is instant – even things like Yahoo, Hotmail and Gmail are ancient now . It’s the age of WhatsApp & Messenger .
So you have to suffice with OMG, ROTFL, SCNR- and a hundred more . Some of these are so confusing that at my age I have to google to see what is being meant !
Just yesterday I was chatting with an old pupil of mine who is settled in Canada .
By the time he had finished I had learnt a thing or two – YMMD ( You made my day ) , FACK ( Fully acknowledge ) , IMHO ( In my humble opinion) , & TIA ( Thanks in advance ) . He sure was polite but definitely short of time !
Old fashioned letters and cards are irreplaceable – they act as a reminder to the recipient – a reminder that they are truly loved; that they are valued; that their relationship with you is still very much alive. You simply can’t put a price on that.