The Paternity Chronicles

The Calming

As a pregnant man, yes! the partner of pregnant woman is also pregnant, you have to take quite a few precautions. A pregnant woman should follow her heart and her body's wish. Everyone knows that the first three months are quite fragile. She has to maintain complete diet, take care not to get jerks, make sure to drink a lot of water and be emotionally content.
And in every act the partner has to help her get through this.

As a pregnant man I have to act in what I think is best for her. But most importantly react of her actions and words and even expressions. I am not known to be a very patient man. But during this time my patience skyrocketed. As much as I was excited, I was very worried at every stage.
The attachment to the baby starts right away, and more so when at the first scan you see a tiny pea sized fetus. But when I saw the tears drop from Mukta's eyes, the tenderness I felt towards her fed my feeling of protectiveness towards her. Men by nature are of protective type and we love when women are vulnerable, so that we can be that knight in shining armor. And this is the perfect time to be that.

Well back home after the third month scan, Mukta told me that her tears were partly of happiness and partly because she could not see the baby (or the fetus) at all in the scan. And she felt she is not a good mother, who cannot even recognize her child in the scan. A word of caution to all fathers (partners) to be; this feeling stays throughout the pregnancy. Every time she is a little careless in taking care of herself, every time she forgets her multi-vitamin or folic acid, every time she feels frustrated that she cannot behave like normal and has to take extra care, every time she has morning sickness and is irritated (just a fleeting moment) with the unborn baby; she gets this feeling of extreme sadness and depression where she feels she is not a good mother.
At this time the partner has to make sure she realizes that she is awesome woman and will be a great mother. Remind her of all the times she has taken care of people. Remind her how responsible she is. Remind her of how strong yet how loving she is. And take blame on yourself as much as possible. It doesn't make you bad, it just makes her feel nice that she is not to blame.

This psychological act is very important throughout the pregnancy. However it changes at every stage.

The first few weeks its time to celebrate. We men normal hide our feelings. This is one important time to show your partners how excited you are.

The next stage is actually the sub-stage from the initial tests to the third month scan. Some women get heavy morning sickness. Some don't.
When they do, they get irritated, they want you to wake up but most of the time not see them puke. They may not feel like eating some stuff and feel like eating some other things. At that time, support her, get and eat what she wants, avoid what she doesn't feel like it and participate in her frustration while making it look like you are fine with it.
Sometimes they don't. Our movies and television crap in general show that a pregnant woman always gets morning sickness which is completely wrong. Studies show that 90% of women get nausea and 33% vomit in early pregnancy. Though no woman would like to have nausea, when it doesn't happen she will feel that something is wrong with the baby or like Mukta doubted about she being pregnant at all. At this point, I had to show her the pregnancy test at least twice. Yes we had kept both of them and hope one day to make an album of the whole experience. I suggested she take another test, and finally I made sure that she realizes that I love her for her and not because she is pregnant.

The following stage is the 3+ month stage. After the scan, tests and when the doc says that all is fine, we enter the second trimester. This is the best stage. Around 90% of woman get that pregnancy glow. Yes its true. Finally the pregnancy is not only in the mind but in the body. The scientific background is that body pumps blood more harder and the hormones are more excited, which obviously shows on the skin.
This is the time to rejoice, eat and drink whatever you want (well some conditions ofcourse apply) and most importantly share this news with your family and friends if you havent already.
Happiness grows exponentially when shared and this news is the happiest of all.

And you need to make sure that you tell her how beautiful she is even though she maybe bloated like a whale and how much you love her even though she may wake you up at 2 am in the night to tell you that she wants a glass of water.
Pamper her in words and actions. I started a few things which you guys can do.
Take over washing's and cleanings. Overlooking the maid, dusting and cooking if possible. The later I couldn't do at all. She will criticize your work, take it in your stride. Just say sorry and that you will take care next time. It makes her feel that secure and taken care of.
I started getting fresh fruits and made milk shakes and juices and made her drink those early in morning. It is not only good for the body, its shows a special love in morning. After some days she looked forward to getting up and drinking the juice and just feeling nice.
Another of my friend used to leave notes for her when he left for office. Sometimes in her dress which she wore to office, sometimes with breakfast. Small notes which made her day. I couldn't stoop to that level of cheesiness...

Well before you know it, it will be the second trimester and more of work for you guys in next chapter. Till then rejoice.

The Paternity Chronicles

The Opening Act

‘I think I am pregnant’, Mukta said one early morning with a home test in her hand standing over me. I was sleeping, it was 6.30 am anyway and I thought I was dreaming. Could it really be possible?  

‘I think I am pregnant’, she repeated. I was wide awake in an instant. ‘You mean, you think WE are pregnant’, I said. Yes!!! I hugged her. She hugged me back with tears in her eyes. We say just like that for some time.

‘Do you still have to travel next week’, she asked. Yes, I have to travel for work Monday to Thursday, I thought but did not say anything. Now is not the time to think of work but yes I have to leave her and go immediately after knowing this news. Have to play this slow. ‘Let’s check again next weekend and take an appointment with doctor’, I said.

The weekend we spent Googling. Today’s world any question you want answered, doubts cleared, there is Google.

The following week was a torture. I was so happy, that I was almost afraid. I wanted to shout and jump with joy, call and tell the news to everyone and most importantly stay with Mukta.

Following weekend, she took the test again, this time the costly one. They are so costly; ladies, you better take them when you are sure. It was positive again. First we called our parents and conveyed to them. First grandchild is more special than first child.  They were over excited, ‘when should we come’, was the first of millions of questions. We then took an appointment with the gynecologist as soon as possible. Went to meet him and Mukta said, ‘I am pregnant’. ‘So? what should I do?’, came back the reply. Our first brush with the Dutch way of pregnancy.

We then took an appointment with a verloskundige, yeah let’s speak English here... we took an appointment with a midwife team. And the first appointment was a good one month away. Come on, in India, we would have already started with vitamins, tests and what else. We were most impatient.

Meanwhile the feeling hadn’t yet sunk in. But reading about all the “side-effects” I was wary. Every time I was waiting for morning sickness. But it was much better than expected. Mukta really did not have any special feelings and only later felt like “eating something special”.

They say a woman becomes a mother when she conceives and a man is a father when he holds his child the first time. But somehow it was different for me. I felt pregnant too. Tensed, I stopped reading online about pregnancy and paternity. It worried me more. It’s not as people say. A woman will act to what she feels when she is pregnant. A man has to react upon every emotional, physical or psychological feedback of his woman. A movement on bed in the night, clearing of phlegm in morning, even if she skids while walking in the house, I used to have a knee-jerk reaction. ‘Don’t scare me’, she would retort. Treating her normal is best for fetal development, but yet take care of her. Understanding what a woman wants when she is normal is almost impossible even if you know her for years. When she is pregnant, it’s like walking on ledge of empire state building. One false step and ‘you do not understand what I am going through’ is what you have to hear. And still you have to gulp all your pride and ego and do what she wants. Yes, it’s a Men’s job.

There are a lot of writings out there about maternity. But very few by a father. In these series I will write down my experiences. Every woman’s experience in pregnancy is different and therefore every man’s is also different. However, I hope to jot down some stuff here not only for you all to read, but also I hope my child will read someday and understand what it is to be a father.

At the time of writing this first write-up in this series, it’s still another 3 weeks for the predicted due date. The final lap. We have gone through quite a lot already, yet it feels just like yesterday that I remember most of the milestones so far. See you again in few days for the next of the series. 

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

Just watched rerun of couple of FRIENDS episodes after long time. Mukta and I love them. Once a while we liked to watch couple of random episodes of these series before sleep. And we felt nice.

Friends are an integral part of our lives. We cannot stay without them. I was very attached to my friends from childhood. My parents always said that they knew all my friends whereas my brothers never introduced their friends at home. Yes my friends were always a part of my extended family.

Over years I realized that when my friends got into relationships they would kind of drift apart from the group. Others then would get jealous and ‘lonely’ of being single and take drastic steps. Once when I mentioned this to my one friend he said, ‘Pramesh, all go through this. When you have a girlfriend or a wife she wouldn’t like you hanging with your friends all the time. And neither will you like her to be with her friends often’.

And I dreaded this.

One of the main qualities of Mukta I loved from beginning is how much she liked to be with friends and how close they were for her. When I visited her parents in Pune the first time, her grandmom commented, “Mukta’s friends often visit us, her brothers’ we never meet”.

I was glad.

From our friendship to our marriage and beyond we have encountered many friends between us. From the time her friends tried to prevent us getting together for her good to the times when we discuss intimate things, friends have been now a part of our family here.

When I was in Bangalore and she was alone in Hyderabad, those were testing times. There were friends who held us together, gave us strength to go on. When we had almost broken up, there were friends who prayed for us and promised their Gods visits and offerings. When things were looking bleak for us there were our friends who gave us hope. And when we got together there were friends who shed tears of happiness with us. How can we forget the help each of our friends at our wedding? Oh yea with different cultures and ways it wouldn’t possibly be so smooth without our friends. And how can we forget the happiness our friends shared for our first day of the married life and continue to do so.

How can I forget when my friends took care of me when I was in Hyderabad. I cried when I got my first salary and he consoled me.

How can I forget my friends taking care of me in Bangalore. Cooking soups and stew for me when I was not well.

How can I forget the 10-12 people +small 2bhk apartment + big kettle of tea + one old movie at 2 in the night.

How can I forget 3 friends + 3 different places in world + a conference call.

How can I forget my weaknesses and my strengths.

In my life I have had sparks and even fought with some friends. But when I think back I realize it was always my benefit he/she spoke for. How can I forget my friends in college shouting at me to gather and go ahead with my studies when I was ready to quit. How can I forget my friends gathering in groups to give me advice? Most of the times they were right, sometimes they were wrong. But they always thought good of me. And I must say I was privileged to have true friends.

Even today both, Mukta and me have a special relation with our friends. We can’t be more than couple of days without meeting them. We get onto each other’s nerves. We fight and we irritate each other. We not just like having friends around us, we need them. There might be good or bad things going on in our lives, discussing with our friends makes it so very small and so much easier to cope with. Being together makes all the pains go away. Sometimes we fight, other times we make up and enjoy, and I realize it all a part of being together.

As we get deeper in our own lives I am sure there might be more and more distances and time between us. But we both know one thing for certain, whenever we want to share sadness or happiness there will always be a friend there.

Don’t know what made me write this at this time in the night, just out from a sickness. Maybe it was the dream I had last night about a good friend gone separate or maybe Mukta feeling low and missing one of her friends whom she hardly speaks to these days or maybe just watching the series after a long time. Would like to end on the jingle from the series though;

It's like you're always stuck in second gear,

Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.

But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.

I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.

I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

Not Pami any more…

The cock crowing in the foggy morning was the first thing I heard today. It’s wonderful feeling waking up at the sounds of nature than the shouts of hawkers and horns of irritated commuters.

It’s been one year I left that behind. One year since I moved from the chaos of the city to the peace of this small town where the milkman still comes on cycle and the lone auto rickshaw driver knows everyone’s names and addresses.

It’s been one year since I got married.

I got up, switched on the geyser and went into the kitchen to make tea. Kunal needs the aroma of a strong tea to wake up. I removed the milk from the fridge and put it on the stove and opened the backyard door. I like doing this first thing in the morning, the smell of fog, wood smoke and jasmine flowers in our backyard is heavenly.

“Happy Wedding Anniversary sweetheart,” he hugged me from behind. I love when he does that. His strong arms holding me like he will never leave me, his hug firm yet tender like he will protect me yet take care of me. And a smile on his face.

“Happy Anniversary to you too dear. Where is my gift?” A woman likes the act of receiving gifts more than the gift itself.

“I gift my life to you, Shama”, he says dramatically and laughing he conjures out a red rose and going down on one knee offers it to me.

……

“I love you”, he said going down on one knee, with the smile I could die for and presented me with a red rose.

“I hate roses, you know that. Still you always get roses, can’t you get any other flowers”, I said in mock anger.

“But a rose is the most beautiful flower, and red rose is universal symbol of love.” He gave his usual clarification. But I loved him and even if he gave me a cactus I would accept.

“Come on Pami, atleast say you love me.” He insisted. He pouted and I just melted in his arms. “I love you, so much.” I cooed.

It was almost three years we were going out. Tushar and I met in college. He was 2 years my senior and considered as a nerd. My friends always thought our pair was an unusual one. He a topper of the class, an arranged marriage category, favorite of all the teachers. I a tomboy, happy go lucky, more in the canteen and less in classroom types girl. Our meeting too was unusual. I was in second year and he in last. I had never seen him before. I called out to him rather arrogantly to rag him. Reflecting back I realized what a good sportsman he was to actually put that football under his t-shirt and act pregnant. Even though he knew I was junior to him. He claimed that he always had crush on me and this was one chance he got to impress me. I always teased that he was scared of me. But I dint care. Over period of time we became good friends and then he proposed.

We were of the same caste and when I was in final year we announced our relationship at our respective homes. My parents were very happy and after he’s parents met me they too were excited (I don’t know what they approved of me though). A love story with only a prologue and epilogue, my book worm always commented. I had just joined a reputed company and was back for a short weekend. He was well progressing in his field, in two years already a team lead and would be travelling to US soon on a two months official trip. This was sort of a “will miss you” date.

The city of my work was only 4 hours train travel from the city of my stay. Every weekend I used to travel home. And as Tushar was lucky to get a job in the same city where we stayed I got to meet him every weekend. My parents always taunted me that I was acting already married. “You should write your name as Pramila Gupta”, my mom would say.

Whenever I used to come home, I hardly was at home. If I were at home that would mean Tushar was at my house too. My mother loved him. She used to say he was like a son she never had. They both were into literature, writing poems and reading books more than TV. Come on what type of people don’t like TV, roadies and big boss… that’s fun isn’t it. My father only complained of one thing. Tushar did not drink. He always wanted a son in law who would sit for a drink with him. What type of man doesn’t drink? Even beer? Was his question. But he loved Tushar.

And they thought that he was very virtuous. Well they had no confidence in me but were very happy that Tushar wouldn’t dream of “defiling” me before marriage. Which century were they in? Tushar often came over on weekdays to where I worked and stayed with me in my 1BHK where I stayed alone. And he worked from home, during days for professional and nights for personal reasons. During those days I was always late going to office.

And now he was going. For 2 months. That’s 8 weekends, 60 days, 1440 hours. Long distance calls and skype chat would be our mediators. I hated him, his job and his company. Since the time I heard about his trip I always fought with him and got irritated with my parents.

“Come on Pami, just 2 months.” He would say. Yeah easy for you to say. You are going to new place and will enjoy there. And weren’t the girls there supposed to be cute?

Finally tomorrow was the day. His flight was at 4 am. He had persuaded me not to come to drop him. I didn’t want to go too. I knew I would make a fool of myself. The only consolation was that we would get engaged in 3 months. After he came back. And 6 months later was the marriage. My parents seeing my distress spoke to his parents and they decided. Thank god for parents.

“Say you love me Pami” he said, kissing me and handing me the red rose I hated. “I love you” I said with tears in my eyes. God how much I had changed. I was a tomboy when we met and now was all mushy and girlie. “I will get you Nina Ricci and Davidoff Coolwater and something from Victoria Secret”, he said winking, trying to improve my mood. “And One Million by Paco Rabanne too”, I said feeling a bit better. “Keep this rose till I come back will you?” the romantic poet in him said softly. “I hate it”, I told him again. We just sat there holding hands. Communicating silently.

Next day when I woke at 7 am I saw his long sms. He loved to sms me poems of his own composition. Even though he knew I never read them. But this time I did. It was beautiful. How lucky I was.

Over the next 2 months we spoke twice everyday on the phone and whenever there was time overlap, which wasn’t much, we would chat over skype. I would take get up early to video chat with him, and he would hardly sleep. “This will be the last time I will go somewhere without you, Pami”, he said on the last day there. And I blushed. I loved him. He would be back in 2 days and then we would be together happily ever after. “I have kept the rose you gave me, even though I hate it.” I told him. “Get me a better flower when I come to receive you.” He laughed. “I will get you roses from America”, he said teasing me. “They are more beautiful”.

Next day I saw the news on TV. Air India flight 812 crashed while landing on the tiny airport. 4 hours drive from our house. Out of 166 people just 5 people survived. Tushar was not among the alive.

Couple of days later his luggage arrived. His cabin bag had a bunch of Roses. They were beautiful. I hated them even more.

……

“Shama, My life is yours”, he repeats still holding out the red rose.

It is beautiful. Tears roll down my cheeks. I accept it and smell it. I love Kunal for it.

I am not Pami anymore. I am Shama now.

It’s been a year since I have been Shama Singh.

55er: Not Only ICE

It was 11.30 am. I was making a presentation that would launch me in stratosphere. He called thrice. I cut assuming the usual chit chat. At 7 pm I called him back. He was no more. He had died in hospital at noon of an accident. My number was stored as ICE in his phone.

  

My Decision

 Life isn’t all about making decisions. Sometimes they are just taken away from you. The household we are born, the relatives we have, as a child the  school we go to, etc. Besides others making them for us, we too are forced to take certain decisions. I wanted to study further but due to financial constraints I could not… one of the examples. And then there are decisions you take mostly with your heart than with your mind. Falling in love is one of them…

   But I took this decision with a lot of deliberation and after weighing the pros and cons for a good one month.

            On 30 March 2006 I decided to fall in love.

            The same decision I had taken years earlier. And that time when I did go ahead I was left clutching the sand. For eight years I wished and hoped and then realized that friendship is more important.

          I met her during the training period of erstwhile Satyam Computers pvt ltd. Our friendship grew slow and nicely. Thanks to CUG (Common User Group) of Airtel in Hyderabad for Satyam employees we chatted well into the late nights. We were introduced by a common colleague and got on due to common language (well Marathi). I was interested in knowing her cause her name was same as my late grandmom’s name. There in a party she danced first time with a boy, yeah with me.

As I learned more about her a few things struck a cord somewhere deep. Her unfaltering honesty, her resolute loyalty and love towards her friends and her fiery determination as being highlighted.

I don’t even remember the six months wherein we grew from friends to best friends. Soon we started sharing everything from our deepest skeletons to the superficial splendor. As we grew close her friend circle thought I had evil intentions. So they talked her into staying away from me. For a whole week we did not even meet eye to eye. She had only told me she cannot be my friend and I did not ask any questions.

It was only when she realized that there was no reason for such behavior that she started talking to me again and that was when she told me about it. Surprisingly my reaction was of admiration, for her and her friends. All of us who are away from home realize how important it is to have some shoulder to cry on and an arm to hold onto when in trouble. And this was a fine example of friendship.

As time passed by we both realized the importance of each other in our lives. And one day she told me that I should say things out and not keep inside, I just blurted out, “I think I love you”…. She was too shocked to say anything. She just said ok and we cut the call. The next day we decided to meet and talk about it. So we met at a place called Eat-street. There I told her the truth. Yes I loved her but I knew my parents wouldn’t approve. So we couldn’t get together. This was too much for her to take and for a month we did not meet or even talk properly. For that whole month I analyzed my feeling from every possible way. Wrote down all the points, tore them up and finally decided that four or five years of tensions would be well worth to get a life partner like her.

And then on 30 March 2006, I invited her over to my place and we talked about this and that and while showing her my family album I asked her, “would you like to be a part of this family?”

Five and a half years passed. And each day was like a nightmare trying to convince my parents and wading off pressure from her folks. We had our share of break ups and make ups. There has been time when we had a break for two long months. But what actually kept me going was one small statement by her. It was one of the times when we fought bitterly over the same issue. And just the fierce love in the tone of the voice that said it will ensure that I will never forget those words. I won’t put down the words here. Some things should remain private.

Half a decade of praying, wishing and persuading finally bore its fruit. I felt my parents giving way and finally I did the proposal, ring on one knee and the works. The following six months were unbelievable and finally we got married, 6 years and 3 months after my decision to fall in love.

Today two months have gone by and I love her even more if that is possible. Every minute of this life with her, family and friends is a blessing. And the horizon from here does look happily every after…

The Gulmohar

There are times when we just see something or someone around us and our imaginations go wild. It maybe ordinary and natural or it may be something artificial. It may have been a mundane article or something which arouses our sixth deadly sin.

Something of the former was what I experience when I stayed overnight at a friend’s place to watch the late night soccer match. Yea Germany had won and I got up pretty late. My friend knowing my passion for bed-tea had got me a mug.  Sipping the delicious beverage my sight wondered out of the window.  And before me was dense foliage of a Gulmohar tree.

 The night earlier was quite wet and Bangalore had witnessed one of its heavier showers of the season. The earlier evening the tree was in full glow of the crimson blooms and today morning nothing but the bowed dark greens.

The beauty of nature

Does not lie only in the beautiful and bountiful

But matters so the thorns and dark clouds

As with flowers and sky so blue.

The ground below was blood red. Those handfuls who have never observed a Gulmohar flower should know that this particular flower usually grows in India during the summers. But the flowers don’t have a fragrance at all. Though the color riot they display in a sight in itself.

As I stood observing each branch and each leaf I tried to view it in one sight. And I was stunned at the effect.  

               

On his knees with his heard lowered

Not broken but certainly bowed

Bloodied ground lay below as a Persian spread  

Beaten but not lost nor afraid.

 Yes, I could relate the tree to an army general. Fighting against the torrents of enemies. Spears piercing through his shield and swords cutting through his amour. But fighting back even though he knows all is lost. And the ground below him all bloodied with flowers of his sacrifice.

This topic may be so out of the blue for a blog. But I am sure every one of you must have such imaginations. As children we have often tried to imagine ourselves as hero and ridden a fallen branch like a horse with a twig in our hand as sword. Or we might have lay on our backs and gazed into the blue sky trying to relate the fluffy clouds to some known shapes.

                Laying on my back and gazing into the blues

                I wondered the shapes and hues

                How the tides change or winds blow

                How fast oh… does time flow

And in the age where we see more of concrete jungles, the kids are glued to the artificial world of video games, the trees and the greens are like a fallen general, bowed but not broken.... yet.

The Bestest Friend…

The Bestest Friend…

Nope, that’s not a grammar blunder.

And I am sure that there is Hel’0ve written material on this. So what is special that I am writing this again?

It is this word, the relation and the meaning, being so special…

I asked a centenarian

Is it fewer or long and tough?

He said he is tired of being awake

But of Love and Trust he can never have enough.

And from there is the epicenter of the whole universe.

And why I am writing this? Of all days now? Yesterday I was speaking to my friend. She is having a fight with her best friend for no fault of hers. I can’t bear to see her all tensed for that. So I was advising her not to worry and care so much, when apparently he gives a horses shit about her.

She listened to all I have to say and then tells me… “He may consider me whatever but I will always consider him my bestest friend and will always care about him”.

And touched was I so

In times when only reciprocation lives

I felt the crisp winter breeze

Blowing away the stagnant leaves.

And I asked myself; what does it take for one to be a bestest friend;

And I dint find anything I could talk on. It is something only to be felt. The Love and Trust.

We may have best friends of childhood. Or ones we have met just last week. Its only takes a frequency match to enjoy each others companionship.

I could term a best friend as one who would come running to my home in the middle of the night just because I gave him a missed call.

Or I could call a best friend as he with whom I am not in contact for ages but when I meet him its like we were always together.

We may fight

We may hold hands

We make our world a whole

We are best friends…

And it may not come from both sides. I may consider one as my best friend and he may not consider me same. Its same funda as Love. I may love one and she may not love me back. But should my feeling be based on her feelings? I wouldn’t say so. I love her because I feel it, irrespective of her feelings for me.

It is the same here…

I know of his goods and all his bads.

And still I accept him.

I know of his mood swings and his angers.

And still I forgive him.

I know of his sadness and his concerns.

And still I am happy with him.

I know his frustrations and I know his hate…

And still I love him.

That’s bestest friendship. That would be my bestest friend. And I would always side him and protect him. Cause after all he is my soul mate.

A STORY OF THE STORY

“I will eat only if you tell me a story”, I would say when I was a little kid. And my mother would tell me a story while feeding me. It could be any story. Of Kings and Queens, of animals and forests, of heroes and villains. I needed a story at lunch time, dinner time, bed time, even bathing time. Now I am older but I still need a story. But now I read what I want, whenever I want. Especially at night I can’t sleep without reading, even if I have already read it. People like to carry photos, cards when they move locations. I like to carry my favorite books.

A story as defined in oxford dictionary is a noun with meanings ranging from;

An account of imaginary or real people and events told for entertainment.
An account of past events, experiences, etc.
An item of news.
Informally a lie.

So in effect we all tell stories sometime or other.

No one will ever be able to tell you when story telling started or where the first stories were told. If anyone claims to be sure then they will be telling a ‘story’. Story telling can be traced back even to cave man where they could have told their young ones stories of what happened to them when they went to hunt. Even the most ancient caves and results of excavations tell stories of stories being told. The drawings on cave walls, the sculptures, the buried cities, even natural disasters like volcanoes, floods and earthquakes tell stories of civilization, or stories of the individuals of the yore. And that ladies and gentlemen is His-Story.
There are various types of fictional stories we can come across. Some like short stories. Others like stories which drag on and on. Some like thrillers and some like romantic. Fiction and factual, Horror and subtle, and the most famous being fairy tales. One of the stories I remember is a story which never ended. The King of a country was very fond of stories but always complained of the stories ending too soon. He proclaimed that whoever tells him a story that never ends will be awarded. But even the best story tellers couldn’t fulfill his wish. Finally a woodcutter comes and starts his story, “Far away in a land there was a farmer who had a big paddy field. He harvested his farm and stored the grains in a huge storehouse. But in one of the wall there was a small hole. One day a bird comes in the hole and takes a grain in his beak and flies away. Then another one comes and flies away. Then yet another, and another.” The story teller continued with birds coming in and picking a grain and flying off. Over a period of time the king got frustrated and asked him what happens next. The clever woodcutter say’s: “another bird flies in and picks a grain and goes”. Finally the king realizing his folly awards the woodcutter.
So that is a never ending story for you.

Very few stories have sad endings, but most end well. Stories being mostly fiction and usually for entertainment are always made so that the listener is satisfied at the end. A good story teller is one who tells stories in a way that the listener craves for more. Bestsellers are usually page turners.
Story telling is an art. Just like a painter or a composer get inspiration from nowhere and the colors or tones flow in their thoughts, similarly a story teller gets a character from nowhere. J.K. Rowling, author of famous Harry Potter series when asked how she thought of the story, replied that the idea was conceived whilst a train trip from Manchester to London. Sometimes a story teller might base his story on real life person who influences with a particular trait of his. Like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was influenced by his one time boss Dr. Joseph Bell for creating non other than Sherlock Holmes. Most story tellers create story in a way which interests them. J.K. Rowling is quoted saying that she wrote Harry Potter for herself and her daughter. Sidney Sheldon often said: “when you write you are on your own”.
There was one time when few could read. In fact education was considered to be only for the very lowly and therefore the kings and rulers did not interest themselves in this ‘vice’. But then who can stay away from a good story. So they had royal readers or even story tellers who could read them stories written on self created. We have examples of from the BC’s like Aesop who was a story teller to the ancient Greece. Two of the most favorites are "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" and "The Tortoise and the Hare". Remember them?
Closer home we have stories of Vikram and Betal where the story teller was nothing other than a ghost.
According to legend, a woman named Scheherazade told stories to Sultan Schahriah to save her life. Each night she told him tales, stopping at the most exciting part so that he would have to wait until the next night to learn what happened. After 1,001 nights, the sultan granted Scheherazade her life. She became his wife, and her stories were recorded for the entire world to read. They include “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves,” “Sindbad the Sailor,” and “Aladdin and the Magic Lamp.” Sound familiar???
The best story tellers are our own grandparents. Who doesn’t like to rest on the lap of his/her grandmother and listen to the same stories over and over again? Whenever we used to go to our native place we all gather around our grandmother and ask for a story. More often than not it used to be one told before. These days we urge our uncle to tell. He is a wonderful story teller and tells punch lines with the right effect. Usually we like ghost stories at night sitting outside in the verandah and with trees and creatures of the night provide a natural backdrop and background noises.
But stories are not meant only for kids. Its one entertainment which has only improved with time. Every generation has their own series and favorite stories. Earlier they were passed as word of mouth. When the art of writing was invented you can be sure that stories were first to be put in black and white. Remember the legendary story of lord Ganesh writing the story of Mahabharata as recited by the great sage Vyasa? And that story was recited to the world as a song.
Stories were told over all media. The serials which we all watch glued to the idiot box are nothing but stories. And with the satellite television there is a wider range of them. The computer games which we all play are stories in themselves. Movies, cartoons, forwards, news columns, one liners, punch lines; etc, etc… we can find stories everywhere.
With the on coming of other forms and the rediscovering of reading we have a great future for stories.
After all strange as it may seem everyone’s life is based on a true story…
Wouldn’t you say…?
And now that you have read till here… reflect for a sec… haven’t you finally read the story of the story???

As a normal human being I wish for basic things in life; food, shelter, clothing, education and security in the same chronological order. First three have been the requirements of the man from time immortal. As we have developed personally and socially, we have added more to this list. The latest added is security. Security can mean personal, social and financial. A complete man is one who is satisfied with all what he has. A nice house, choice of food and clothes, loving family, a good paying job, and independence in social circles
A few years back one could find plenty of such people around. You could find them everywhere. In the elevator or the office buildings, your neighborhood, the one in car in front of you in the signal, around the corner every next person you bump into would be happy. At least with basic things. You could smile and nod at them and they would reciprocate. If you dint have exact change at a shop the keeper would smile at you and say… “It’s ok, pay later”. Once a Samaritan paid my ticket when I realized I forgot to carry my purse. How many times have we saved pocket money by hitching back home from college! The people giving lift would always do so with a smile. And the very gesture of humanity would bring a smile onto one… which would continue the chain of brotherhood…
All of a sudden things changed. First the extremists were conceived. For personal and political gains innocent people were indoctrinated with hate. Hate of religion, of region, of language, of life… and they were awarded with weapons; in material and matter. And then chaos reigned. Demolition of places of worships, in retaliation there were terror groups formed, organized crime rate increased hundred fold, more weapons were required, narcotics and gold was exchanged between borders of states, nations, and affected last need in the hierarchy. Our social security was compromised. We started looking at every other person with suspicion. We started getting reluctant to help an accident victim because we were wary of the bag he was carrying, or of being involved in police case. Every person with long beard and robes were stared with contempt. New tenants in the society were asked numerous questions. And the friendlier one behaved, the more the fear was fueled.
In turn the ripples were felt in the financial circles. Huge amount of assets made drastic moments with little traces of their paths. Markets and investments collapsed and so did trust in people, companies, establishments and countries. People lost their holdings overnight. And then we lost our financial security.
Lately after 26/11 in Mumbai, we have finally lost our personal security. With terror agents entering our homes, and eateries and man slaughtering us, we are now in a state of turmoil. The veil is lifted and the face of death is finally exposed. And that is even more terrifying; sending shivers upward our spines… because it is a face of common man. Terrorists are nothing but one among common people who are brainwashed to do and be so. We can’t distinguish the devil from humans any more, resulting in disarray of social system and personal way of life.
We have finally realized that the four basic necessities in life are in no way complete without security. It is security which brings peace to society and mind. And slowly we are coming to terms of the fact that security cannot be entrusted to governmental organizations, private eyes, or blame anyone. It comes from within. Each one for all and all for one is the slogan raised in the streets. Candle light vigilances and awakening of self is catching up. Being alert and rising up to any given situation is the need of the hour. Each one has to take up the onus of leadership, if not of the society or family than at least of the self. And lead.
That is the only way we can finally attain the fortitude of the righteousness; and be an average man with proportionate circle of mind, emotions and body which will then lead to a square material existence in the world and universe as a whole. By being a Vitruvian Man; is the only way we can live with honor and die with dignity.