From The Water's Womb

I was a witness. A witness to nature's magic. I felt like a tree. Awake yet still. I felt like the sky watching the earth.

I felt. But I did not move. Like the passive earth that witnesses the twinkle of each star. Or the uncurling of each blade of grass at the safe prodding of light.

I was a witness. And so was my family. Along with so many others who had gathered on that beach. Before the dawn of New Year's Day. Some were sitting along a rock boundary, some lying on the sand in front and many standing behind us.

I looked at Ma and Pa who sat fingers interlocked, in the midst of the crowd of humanity milling all around us. They were staring ahead at the dark sea, alone in their togetherness.

This was Cape of Comorin - the Cape Reinga of India – almost at the southernmost tip of the peninsula. We were in a town called Kanyakumari in the Indian State of Tamil Nadu. Contrary to the popular (and sensational) belief that Kanyakumari lies at the meeting point of three bodies of water, the Bay of Bengal, the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean, it is surrounded by only one: the Laccadive Sea.

But I didn't know this. I had come to see the confluence of the three waters. Neither did I know that Kumari Amman or the Kanyakumari Temple, located on the shore and a famous pilgrimage for Hindu girls, is dedicated to a manifestation of Parvati, the virgin goddess who did penance to obtain Lord Shiva's hand in marriage. But I did know that Kanya meant girl and Kumari meant virgin in Sanskrit.

On a rocky islet just off the shore, southeast of the Kumari Amman temple, was the Vivekananda Rock Memorial, built in 1970 by Eknath Ranade. On another islet just behind the Memorial rock was the 133 feet (41 m) tall statue of Tamil poet Thiruvalluvar, one of the biggest statues in Asia, completed in 2000 by sculptor V. Ganapati Sthapati.

A rock boundary circled the border of the mainland, where we sat. It rested on top of a small bluff, five meters from the low tide mark. The ash grey rocks were neither sharp nor smooth. I sat on the boundary comfortably, and allowed my legs to dangle freely in front of me as I gazed out towards the horizon.

It was dark, but not pitch black. Josh was looking at me, watching me. I smiled at him and looked out again. I could make out some boats on the water. A few people sat in each boat. All were waiting. Waiting for the ball of fire to rise from deep inside the sea. From the water's womb.

Just an ordinary event, some would say – Sunrise. But how many times do we stop? To watch it? And reflect? Beauty unfolds in a sunrise. Or a sunset. But we have no time, so we remain oblivious. Of the happiness in small joys. Of the extraordinaire in the ordinary. Of the uniqueness in events common and regular in life.

We do not discover, because we do not seek. And so, even when the magic is unfolding all around us, we do not witness it.

The sea was calm. Waves crawled in towards the beach. Then crept back out to the horizon. They were like a hand reaching out towards me. A mother's hand - reaching out to caress me lovingly. Forwards. Then still. Backwards. Then still. I felt their touch. The heartbeat of the sea was in sync with mine.

A light breeze rose from the shadows of the sea. It came in with the waves and left with the waves. Its fleeting coolness tickled me between my naked toes. Then spread through me like dye in a cloth. It was soothing. Relieving. A reassurance that life renews itself in every moment.

Each breath I took in its wake, filled my lungs with its live energy. It traveled deep inside me, rejuvenating my acquaintance with parts of my body that had long since been forgotten. Then it left me slowly, only to return and refresh me again without being asked. And again, And yet again.

What had I done to deserve such abundance? What promise had I given? What purpose would I serve? For nature, to want to bless me so opulently with life and health? Would I be willing to repay its generosity when the time came? I wanted to. Would I be a good investment for nature? I wanted to be. I felt blessed and grateful.

With each heartbeat, I sensed a warmth rise up in me. In sync with the world inside my head, light in the world outside crept higher. Slowly, steadily. Rising from a deep dark abyss beyond the horizon. Black sky merged with the sea, its darkness dissolving in the saline waters.

Turning from black to pink, then to purple, and then to blue. Dark evaporated. There was light. What is darkness, I pondered? Truly, just an absence of light. Gone in a flash, like it had never ever existed.

The horizon lit up. It was an unforgettable sight. A giant majestic halo rising towards the sky, reaching for the stars that beckoned from above. The sun peaked shyly out of its watery blanket. Water reflected its light, magnifying its size. It climbed slowly, like it knew no care in the world, nor had chores to worry about.

It was an amazing extravaganza. A great spectacle. The orb grew more confident as it rose. Glowing promisingly with every lazy step out of the sea. I closed my eyes and felt it reaching out to me. Touching me, encapsulating me. In its mellow radiant warmth. I felt safe, secure. Time stopped. To witness this camaraderie. To live this moment. Like me, it was a witness. To the nature's magic.

Neither Friend Nor Foe

Moses sat alone in his garden, watching the sun begin its solitary descent in the sky. “Why are you sitting here alone?” Joyce tapped him on the shoulder from behind. She had seen him, and strolled out to be with him. Albert had seen him too, and followed close behind her. “Because I feel alone,” replied Moses. “Loneliness seems like destiny, as we enter the evening of our lives. I keep remembering Rana Sahri’s words, which Jagjit Singh immortalized by his soulful singing.” Koi dost hai na raqeeb hai, tera shehar kitna ajeeb hai “What does it mean in English?” Albert asked. “Koi means Any,” said Moses. “Dost is friend, hai is to exist, na is nor, raqib is competitor, enemy or a rival, tera is your, shahar is city, kitna means how much and ajib is bizarre. Translated, the first couplet says: There is neither friend nor foe here! What a strange city have you?” “What does he mean in plain english?” Albert asked again. Moses smiled.

“You have to care enough about someone,” he replied, “to like them or hate them. The poet is saying that he feels like a stranger in your world, where people just don’t seem to care at all about others.” Vo jo ishq tha, vo junoon tha, ye jo hijr hai, ye naseeb hai "Vo means that, jo is which, ishq is love, tha is was, junoon is obsession, ye is this, hijre is separation, hai means to be, and nasib is destiny. Translated, lyrics in the second couplet say:" "That love which was, was an obsession. This separation that is, is destiny." “And what does that mean in simple English?” Albert asked again. “We chase obsessions in life,” Moses explained, “but however hectic they may be while they last, they don’t last forever. Performances end, but the show goes on.” Yahan kiska chehra padha karoon, yahan kaun itna kareeb hai “Yahan is here, kiska is whose, chehra is face, padha is to read, karoon is to do, kaun is who, itna is so much, and kareeb is close. Translated in English, the third couplet says: Whose face should I gaze upon? None here is close enough for that.” “Explain please?” Albert asked. “The theme is loneliness,” said Moses. “I feel alone in your world, Rana is saying. None here is so close, that I could even read their face. You can be lonely in a crowd. You see them, but they are too far for you to observe much. It implies distance in relationships. There is no closeness.” “That is depressing. And there is not much you can do about it. Rana says:” Main kise kahoon mere sath chal, yahan sabke sar pe saleeb hai “Main is I, kise is to whom, kahoon is say, mere is with me, sath is along, chal is walk, sabke is every one’s, sar is head, pe is on and saleeb is cross - like the one Christ had to carry. So, this couplet translates to: Who could I ask to accompany me, everyone has their own cross to carry.” “Does he mean we all have to die one day?” asked Albert. “So, no one will accompany us to our end? Or that we are already dead, because everyone has a cross on their head – like in a Christian graveyard?” “To carry a cross,” Moses shook his head, “means to carry a burden. Before Jesus was crucified, he was made to carry a cross (a heavy one at that) through the streets. Later, he was nailed to that same cross and crucified on it.” “Via Dolorosa, the path that Jesus walked on the way to his crucifixion in the Old City of Jerusalem, is a latin word meaning 'Way of Grief,' 'Way of Sorrow,' 'Way of Suffering' or simply 'Painful Way'. Such is life too, for some." “So, I think, Saleeb or the cross, is a metaphor here for responsibilities. In other words, the Shayar is saying that everybody here is so busy with their own schedule, that they hardly have time for anyone else.” “But it isn’t just this loneliness which is crushing him. It is the realization that when people chase after dreams, or become opportunists in their quest for survival, relationships get sacrificed.” Tujhe dekh kar main hun sochta, Tu habib hai ya raqeeb hai “Tujhe and tu mean you, dekh kar is after seeing, sochta hun is to think, habeeb is friend, ya is or. So, the final couplet means: When I see you I wonder, are you a friend or a foe…” “People hide behind masks. One can no longer discern where their true loyalty lies. So, the lyricist is now unsure about even whether someone is his friend or not…” “He’s looking in the wrong place,” Joyce interrupted Moses. “Everyone has a True Friend! They just need to look in the right place. He is not alone. He never was…” Na suboot hai, na daleel hai, mere sath rabbe jaleel hai "There is no evidence, no rationale, yet the glorious Lord is with me." Teri rehmaton me kami nahi, mere ehtiyat me dheel hai "There is no lack of your grace, I’m just not paying enough attention." Mujhe kaun tujhse alag kare, main atoot pyas tu jheel hai "Who can part me from you, I’m eternal thirst, you a fulfilling stream." Tera naam kitna hai muktsar, tera zikr kitna taveel hai "Your name is so tiny, your remembrance so elaborate…"

Awakening

Bob stood under a blanket of glistening stars. The birds slept. The sun had not yet awakened. A cool breeze gently touched his cheeks.

Uneasiness within their leaves suggested a silent conversation amongst the lofty, deep-rooted, apple trees.

They whispered silently into each other’s ears. “Shh. Shh.”

The ranges stood tall and silent. Asleep. The downcast grass was rolled up into a carpet covering the soil, as if snuggled up to the warm stillness.

Silence engulfed him. Only a soft subtle humming drifted across the grassland from a nearby tea-tree bush.

A few crickets lay nestled in the leaves. Hidden, despite the subdued moonlight.

Beside him, stood a towering man. Light grey smoke slowly escaped from his lips. The man had a clean-shaven face with a crop of short black hair.

His innocent brown eyes gazed at the horizon. His firm yet relaxed chest moved each time he breathed. In and out. In and out.

He lifted the smouldering cigarette to his mouth, took another puff, and blew the silvery streaks of smoke away from him. His mere presence radiated a tender gentleness. Bob stood there bathing in it, not noticing the flight of time.

They stood under a cloudless blue sheet, which sparkled with orange hues as the sun climbed into the sky. It was cosy. Affectionate. Rainbows of birds were strung across the sky now. They chirped excitedly as they swooped down from the sky and danced on the arms of the now-quiet trees.

The trees were humbly bowed, offering their bright red juicy apples to the earth. The proud tree covered hills in the background stood protectively, dominating the landscape. Beads of dew rolled down from the now-upstanding grass. Their sharp blades reflected the sunlight onto the nearby bush, which was motionless. Quiet.

Crickets hopped happily into the small crevices amongst the thick bush leaves. The man beside Bob flicked the cigarette butt into the grass. It seemed he was moving in slow motion when he turned his head to look at Bob. His eyes smiled at Bob.

As they ambled back towards the house, he suddenly hugged Bob and whispered, “I love you son.”

Bob knew it already.

Isn’t it the love we feel that makes us notice serenity and observe the wonder around us? What do we see around us when we are depressed?

Bob smiled.

He loved him too, and he knew that Mathew knew that too.

Vedas And Upanishads

Jasper contemplated quietly what his father had just said. After some thought, he spoke again, “I can see why it is important to know oneself, Pa."
"What we do in life, what choices we make in life comes from our perception of who we are."
"But that still doesn’t make it clearer for me how I am that? How can I be the same as you, or one with Nature or God?”

 To clarify that, I’ll have to start at the beginning," answered Isaac, "Do you know what Vedas or Upanishads are, or what they teach?”
 Only that Ved has roots in a Sanskrit word Vid, which means to know or knowledge” answered Jasper, “And that there are four Vedas. Rig Ved, Yajur Ved, Saam Ved and Atharv Ved."
"All Vedas essentially comprise of the Mantras, which are the hymns, and the Brahmanas, which are the prose parts of the Vedas."
"The collection of Mantras is called Samhita. So there are four Samhitas - the Sam, Rig, Yajur, and Atharv. These Samhitas are sometimes mistakenly called the four Vedas.”
“In his book A Critical Survey Of Indian Philosophy, the acclaimed scholar Dr. Chandradhar Sharma wrote that Vedic sacrifices needed four main priests or Brahmins to perform them - Rig for the Hota, Saam for the Udgaataa, Yajur for the Adhvaryu and Atharv for the Brahmaa."
"The Brahmanas outline the rules and regulations for the performance of Vedic rites and sacrifices. Their name Brahmana is rooted in the word Brahm, which originally meant a prayer. Sharma wrote that there is little philosophy in these, so I never read up on them”.
“Attached to these Brahmanas are Aaranyaks, which Sharma thought were so called because they were composed in the forests, as the Sanskrit word Aaranya means forest. He wrote that Aaranyaks mark the transition from the ritualistic to the philosophic thought, due to their mystic interpretations of the Vedic sacrifices."
"The Mantras and the Brahmanas are called the Karm-Kand, as they are the ritualistic portions dealing with sacrificial actions. Aaranyaks are called Upasana-Kand or Worship-Section, as they deal with various kinds of worship or meditation."
"The final portions of the Aaranyaks are called the Upanishads. They are also collectively called Gyan-Kand, as they are intensely philosophical and spiritual, and form the core of the Vedic Philosophy. But I have never actually read any of them before,” concluded Jasper.
“That is a good start,” replied Isaac, “Vedas do not talk about what is seen. They talk about the seer. They explain Nirgun Brahm, the fundamental nature of being and the world that encompasses it. So they are a study in Metaphysics (from Greek meta, meaning beyond, and physics signifying the physical world you see)."
"Vedas were insights revealed to the great ancient Rishis of India. More than a century ago, Monier-Williams, in his Sanskrit English Dictionary, suggested that the word Rishi means a Seer (from Sanskrit word dris, to see), a Mover (from Sanskrit word rsh, to move)."
"Modern etymological explanations, such as by Manfred Mayrhofer in his Etymological Dictionary, however connect it with the Avestan word arasis and the German word rasen, both of which mean ecstatic, to be in a different state of mind."
"So, those ancient Hindu Rishis were the Mantra-Drashtas, seers of Mantras and insights. Legend says that these direct intuitional revelations are Apaurusheya or superhuman. Because they were not created by any human effort, they do not have any author."
"Rishis saw these truths. They did not invent them. They were their spiritual discoverers. And they passed on this knowledge through generations by the spoken word. Since the Vedas were heard, they were called Shruti, (Sanskrit roots again, meaning hearing or listening, and spelled sruti or sruthi in South India)."
"I haven’t read the Brahmanas either, but I have read some Upanishads. These sought to address and answer questions like: Who knows? Who can declare it? Where was it born? What is that which being known; everything else becomes known?”
“Upanishads were esoteric teachings given confidentially (rahasya) to meritorious students after they had undergone an appropriate period of preparation in life. In his book Outlines Of Indian Philosophy, the renowned scholar M.Hiriyanna says that etymologically the word means ‘sitting (sad) near by (upa) devotedly (ni)’."
"In course of time it came to signify the secret instruction imparted at such private sittings. The Upanishads are called Vedant, meaning the end of Ved, partly because they are literally the concluding portion of the Vedas, and partly because they are the essence of the Vedic philosophy.”
“The Principal Upanishads technically constitute the concluding parts of the Brahmanas. However, they tend to take a life of their own because of their distinctively philosophical quality. The philosophical tendencies implicit in the Vedic hymns get explicitly expressed as a search for reality in the Upanishads."
"There are said to be over 200 Upanishads but only about a dozen of them are considered major philosophical works. The Muktikopanisad gives the number of Upanishads as 108. About a dozen, on which the famous Shankaracharya (acharya means teacher) has commented, are considered to be the principal ones."
"These are Ish, Ken (pronounced Cain), Katha, Prashn, Mundak, Mandukya, Taittriya, Aitareya, Chandogya and Brihadaaranyak.”
“The first Vice President of India, Dr. S. Radhakrishnan, who also later became the second President of India, wrote in his book The Principal Upanishads, that Chandogya Upanishad belongs to Saam Ved. It is a part of the Chandogya Brahmana, which has 10 chapters."
"The first two chapters of the Brahmana deal with sacrifices and other forms of worship. The other eight constitute the Chandogya Upanishad. The first and the second chapters discuss the problems of liturgy and doctrine, such as the genesis and significance of OM (or Aum) and the meaning and names of Saman."
"Onwards from the third chapter, he says, are introduced the concepts of Atma (Soul) and Brahm (the thing-in-itself), and their inter relationship. Tat tvam asi is the sentence spoken by Uddalaka in an attempt to bring his son to the knowledge of Brahm in the Chandogya Upanishad."
"Tomorrow I will try to bring my son to the knowledge of Brahm with his help.”
With that Isaac turned around on the path, and with his son began the trek back home. Stars twinkled mischievously in the sky then shone brighter at the promise

Syrian Refugee Crisis

"His Australian wardens tell him that by landing here illegally, he has tried to jump the queue. Really?"

"If things were okay in their home countries, would millions of refugees be queuing up to come to Australia? Or to Europe, for that matter?"

"Leaving most of everything they have built in life, behind. I think not!”

"The problem is complicated," Mike clarified, "because under International Law, the term 'refugee' applies only to those people who have been forcibly displaced."

"It does not include people who have been forced to flee due to wars, famine, natural disasters, climate change or extreme poverty etc."

"People who are internally displaced within their home countries get excluded too. So, millions of genuinely suffering people get trapped in legalese and are classed as illegals. This means they can't access refugee status or get other forms of protection."

“Host countries may be well within their rights to close borders or to deport illegal entrants," said smith, "but what of the human cost? What of humanity? Of being human? And being humane?”

“Would people like Najaf survive if they were deported back to Afghanistan, where Taliban previously tortured them and tried to kill them? Would people fleeing the Syrian civil war survive if all neighboring borders were closed to them.”

“Before allowing refugees to stay," Precious tried to placate the passionately pleading boy, "their hosts must decide whether they’ll be able to fit in, or whether they’ll end up making or inviting more trouble here. It is neither an easy, nor a quick decision.”

“In the interim, refugees are usually treated with suspicion rather than compassion. Even when a refugee is allowed to stay, both sides need to do much to make their relationship work long-term.”

“Then there are economic reasons. For example, Hungary recently said that it had insufficient resources to manage its own population, let alone support tens of thousands of desperate refugees fleeing in from the Middle East.”

“Yet it found the money to erect razor-sharp barbed wires across its border,” Smith was unconvinced, “to stop unwanted guests from crossing over. These were people fleeing death, not coming over for a holiday.”

“What happens when you cut off the escape routes of someone who is being hounded by death. You sure as hell ensure that they get killed.”

“It wasn’t just Hungary,” Precious countered. “Many other European Governments dragged their feet on the Syrian Refugee crisis. It is for reasons like these, that most countries view refugees as a problem.”

“Yet there are countries like Germany,” argued Smith, “who viewed this very same problem as an opportunity, not only to help the needy but also to help themselves.”

“It all depends on your perspective really. You can look at an issue, label it a problem, and try to escape. Or you can look at it and see an opportunity to find a solution for all concerned and make the world a better place.”

“Like most of the rest of Europe,” Mike sided with Josh, “Germany has an ageing population. Yet Germans are living longer, thanks to better medical facilities. Worldwide, more than a billion people will be 65 or older by the year 2030."

"Within a couple of decades, Germany will have an immense pension payments and healthcare benefits problembecause of lesser people working and more people needing benefits.”

“Angela Merkel showed great international leadership when she announced that Germany will be accepting 800,000 refugees this year. That’s about 1% of its population.”

“On a comparative scale, that would be like New Zealand accepting 46,000 asylum-seekers this year. We only accept about 700 yearly, and that number hasn't changed for nearly 30 years.”

“John Key slightly upped the NZ quota this year,” Precious advised. “Some were moaning already that he's feeding ostracised unwelcome foreigners at the cost of services which the locals deserved.”

"Instead of moaning," Smith retorted, "we should be getting involved more. Volunteering with Red Cross, English Language Partners or various other organisations to help resettle refugees who come to our shores."

"We should be hiring them in jobs. Getting to know them at our schools, workplaces and in communities. Successful settlement is not going to happen unless we welcome them among us as equals. We should be helping them assimilate in our social fabric."

"Bad things can happen even to good people. Instead of feeling shortchanged, we should be donating our time, expertise and resources to help our fellow human beings. Together, we can make a difference."

“Perhaps Germans understood more than others,” said Solomon, “that refugees generally work harder and are not out to make mischief because they desperately want to rebuild their life. They are after all, people who have lost everything."

“According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR),” said Smith, “there are approximately around 60 million people worldwide who have been forcibly displaced from their homes."

"If we lived in a world without wars, be they religious, financial or political, there would be no refugees. But we don’t. We fight!”

“If we lived in a world without national borders, national identities, national prejudices, there would still be no refugees. But we don’t.”

“Since we will have wars and national boundaries, we will have refugees. When the scale of tragedies is great, we will have refugee crisis. There were many days over the last several months, when more than 10,000 forced migrants crossed over daily into Europe.”

“The European idea of a passport-free Schengen zone,” said Solomon, "might help create a more open world. I like it. I think it is very novel and interesting. Germany has already shown that it can bring down separating walls and currencies. Without war!”

“At least no Alan Kurdi would die then,” Mike sighed, “that three-year-old Syrian boy who drowned in the Mediterranean Sea as his family was trying to get out of Turkey for the third time.”

“But I suspect that as humans we are programmed to cherish our national identities and will continue to fight with each other on our various fetishes.”

“The next best solution for addressing the refugee problem then,” said Smith, “is to support them near ground zero. So refugees don’t have to go too far to get relief. That way, at least the risks of long journeys to safer havens in despicable travelling conditions would be reduced."

"Alan's family was trying to go to Canada. Najaf fled from Afghanistan to Australia, the other side of the world. While tragic, surely the journey would have been cheaper and safer for the millions who fled from Afghanistan into neighboring Pakistan."

“Since 2011, more than 4 million refugees have fled Syria since the war began. According to the UN’s refugee agency, almost 1.8 million went into neighboring Turkey, more than 600,000 into Jordan and 1 million to Lebanon – a country whose population is just 4 million.”

“Refugees may be the immediate problem of neighboring countries, but we live in a world much more connected now than it was ever before.”

“If countries deluged by refugees can’t handle the influx, they’ll be more inclined to close borders. That will only aggravate the refugee crisis and escalate the human and financial costs.”

“If countries far removed from ground zero helped too with donations of money, food, clothes, medicines, or volunteers, host countries would feel less inundated and might become more willing managers of this problem.”

“Germany showed exemplary generosity in this too, leading the European Union into pledging billions of euros to the U.N. refugee agency UNHCR, its World Food Program and other agencies.”

“It also recently increased funding for Syrian refugees in Turkey, Jordan, Lebanon and other countries. Countries like Hungary resisted having to contribute, as they already had massive debts.”

“But they eventually came aboard as part of a broader push to ease factors driving Syrians to risk sailing to Europe. Hope EU stays united to tackle this. Lives of many depend on it.”

Never Anger Your Nurse

“Never anger your nurse,” Maria jokes with Hope when he fumes at her leaving Isha unattended & bleeding in the night following Josh’s forceps delivery.
Knocking off early from work, Rosh picked up Hosh after school, and father and son drove to the Waitakere Hospital to see Isha and baby Josh.
Little Josh was sleeping peacefully in his own pram, beside his mother's bed. Isha came awake when they entered her room.
Both hugged and kissed her quietly, careful not to wake the baby up. Rosh settled in a chair beside her bed.
"How are you feeling now?" he asked her.
Hosh stood by the pram, watching his little brother silently. He too was relieved to see them both safe.
In the early hours of yesterday morning, when his father had been inside the delivery room with his mother, he had spent a really tense hour alone on a bench outside.
He had been really afraid - for the first time ever, in his life. Waiting alone outside the Operating Theatre isn't easy for a six-year-old, he knew now.
Not when the only two people who are your family, are both insides, and you don’t know what’s going on in there.
Later, when he was being driven back to school after having seen his baby brother - the latest addition to his family, his father had told him what a Forceps delivery was. How interesting that both brothers had been delivered to Earth the same way.
"Weak," Isha frowned, "thanks to the nurse on duty last night."
"What happened?" Rosh was suddenly concerned.
"Maybe she's doing two jobs," answered Isha, "or is on long shifts. Maybe she was too tired and napped off last night. Or maybe she was in another emergency, or otherwise engaged.”
“Whatever the reason, I wasn't too impressed with the duty nurse. My stitches had begun to bleed badly, and I had the ‘Need Help’ light outside my room on for ages.”
“The light in the corridor glowed red for hours, but no one came to attend to me. I lost much more blood than I should have."
"I'll see to it right now," Rosh flew into an instant rage.
"No, leave it," she held his hand. "I'm going to be all right. And I don't want to fight."
"I don't start fights," Rosh flared, "but I will fight when I have to. This is unacceptable.”
"No, let it go," she pacified him. "This is the maternity ward after all. There was no real risk.”
“How do you know?” he was getting worked up. “You could have been in real danger. Others too."
"Leave it, Rosh," she insisted. "I am just grateful it all went well. We are all here now, and we are all safe, and together."
"It should never happen again," Rosh was still shaking his head angrily. He stood up from the chair, "I'll make sure."
"They are all lovely here," she smiled feebly at him. “It didn't cost us a cent. And you should never anger your nurse!"
"What?" he paused suddenly, paying attention again. "Why?"
"A big shot business man," she told him, "had to spend a couple of days in the hospital. He was a royal pain to the nurses because he bossed them around just like he did his employees. None of the hospital staff wanted to have anything to do with him.”
“The head nurse was the only one who could stand up to him. She walked into his room the second day, and announced, 'I have to take your temperature'."
“After complaining for several minutes, he finally settled down, crossed his arms and opened his mouth.”
"No, I'm sorry,” said the nurse, "but for this reading, I can't use an oral thermometer."
“This started another round of complaining, but eventually he rolled over and bared his behind.”
“After feeling the nurse insert the thermometer, he heard her announce, "I have to get something for you. Now you stay JUST LIKE THAT until I get back!"
“She left the door to his room open on her way out. He cursed under his breath as he heard people walking past his door, laughing."
"After a couple of minutes, the man's doctor came into the room.”
"What's going on here?" asked the doctor.
"What's the matter, Doc?” the man answered angrily. “Haven't you ever seen someone having their temperature taken before?"
“The doctor paused for a moment, then replied, “Yea, but never with a daffodil!"

Desires

Words fished out unknown desires from the depths of his mind when Smith weaved words aloud into a funny poem for Sarah.

Their kids jumped in, singing & banging...
Sarah came and sat beside Sarah.
“Recite some poetry,” she said.
“What?” Smith asked laughingly. “It’s a struggle making ends meet. Some memories, some hopes, some desires are all that remains. What else is there to recount?”
“Then narrate them,” said Sarah. “I feel like hearing something from you.”
“I’m hungry,” said Smith. “You’re wanting me to yak. Get me some food!”
“Come on,” Sarah insisted stubbornly. “Then I’ll feed you scrumptious food!”
Smith laughed at the bribe. Some thoughts metamorphosed into words and came up to the lips. He spoke:
(Note: Poetry translation follows below. For the original Hindi poetry, please read the Hindi version of this story on TaleTown)

O Fortune, patch up the torn sack with velvet
Give water to the thirsty, feed roti to the hungry

Sarah burst out into laughter. Seeing their parents laugh, both kids came running too. Looking at them, Smith said spontaneously:

These little troublemakers become big movers, shakers
Let Majnu get Laila, and Juliet get going with Romeo

Sarah smiled. Smith’s desires began to get wings. He couldn’t stop himself and added:

Vivid intoxication spread in the veins, the world get funny
When a spell lights up in the eyes, let it rain a little

“If wishes were horses,” Sarah teased him, “every beggar would ride.”
“Horsey!” Josh insisted, on hearing the word ‘horse’. He had been reminded of the animal.
Smith mounted him up on his shoulders, and moved the poem ahead:

Let the horse become an Audi, make the monkey drunk
Let blind turn one-eyed, when the dumb sing this song

“Dumb will sing a song, mute will sing a song…” Moses sensed the beat and clapped to the rhythm.
“Now we eat along, now we eat along…” Smith hollered too, in Isha’s direction.
"Not yet," scolded Sarah. "Recite some more!"

Making us busk for free, what a miser donor you are?
We’re off to bed hungry if you won’t give us food now

“Food now, food now …” Moses danced around in circles as he sang.
“Now I’m going to eat, or else I’ll bleat …” Smith was singing loudly too.
“Eat? Food?” Little Josh caught on to the important words.
He clenched his fists tight and began drumming on his father’s head too. Seeing the mood of the boys, Sarah laughed and stood up.
“Patience,” she reproached Smith, as she retreated towards the kitchen. “You were born in India!”
With Josh on his shoulder, Smith followed her into the kitchen. Now he’d gotten into the mood, she was deserting the field. But what could stop a rising tide?
Moses too was banging his steel plate rhythmically with a spoon.
It was the right season, the perfect opportunity, the right tradition. Smith went with the flow, weaving words aloud into a poem, but the words fished out unknown desires from the depths of his mind: