Giver Or Taker

You need the giving mind-set, not things, to give away something.

Twice, Bill Gates is given a free newspaper by a poor paperboy....

“Bloomberg,” John was typing up on the WhatsApp family chat group, “recently released their 2017 list of the ten richest people in the world.”
“Out of 200 billionaires profiled for this exercise, the American, Bill Gates, co-founder of Microsoft, is currently the richest man on the planet with a net worth of USD 86 billion.”
“The Spaniard, Amancia Ortega, founder of the Inditex fashion group, famous for its global brand Zara is second richest person in the world valued at USD 76 billion.”
“Pa, your favourite, legendary American investor Warren Buffett is at number 3 with USD 68 billion. Founder chairman of online retailer Amazon.com - Jeff Bezos is at number 4 with USD 63 billion.”
“Mark Zuckerberg, co-founder of Facebook, is eight richest in the world with a net worth of USD 50 billion.”
“Success,” Abraham wrote back, “is often measured in our world by the amount of wealth one has. I like to think though, that the amount of wealth they have is also a measure of their luck, vision, persistence and hard work that got them where they are today.”
Joy forwarded them a story she had read recently. It read:
“Someone asked Bill Gates, who he thought was richer than him.”
“There is one,” Gates replied. “When I wasn’t rich or famous, I had once wanted to buy a newspaper, but didn’t have the money. As I was walking away from the newsstand, the paper boy called me back, gave me the newspaper and said: This is for you. Take it!”
“I don’t have change,” Gates said.
“No problem,” the boy insisted. “It’s yours. Free!”
Strangely, sometime later, this story got repeated again as Bill found himself in similar circumstances. The same boy gave me another newspaper free.
“I can’t accept it,” Gates said. “I have nothing to pay you with.”
“No problem,” the boy replied. “I make enough profit. It’s on me. Take it!”
After he became rich, Gates decided to find that boy. He found him after a month and half's search.
“Do you remember me?” Gates asked him.
“Aren’t you Bill Gates?” he was puzzled. “No, I don’t remember meeting you before.”
“You gave me a free newspaper, twice,” Gates reminded him, “years ago. Now, I’ve come to repay that debt. You can have anything you ask for. How can I compensate you?”
The newspaperman laughed.
“You can’t compensate me!” he said. "I gave you, when I was poor. You want to give me, when you are rich."
You don't have to be rich, or wait to be rich, to give. Real attitude of giving is when you lack. Keep the Spirit Alive…
“I don't know if this story is true,” John replied. “But the lesson is good. The attitude of giving or sharing is important, although I think the quantity of what you share matters too…”
“If we are able to get the right message from every story,” Joy replied happily, “its purpose is served.”
“There are no right or wrong messages,” Abraham typed back. “We take what we want, depending on how we are feeling at the moment.”
“Richness is not a number in your bank account, it is a state of mind. I think this story is flawed, because the paperboy couldn't have given any free newspapers away - had he felt poor at the time.”
“Only the rich (mentally, even if not materially) give. They are the only ones who can give. A starving mother, with nothing to eat in her house, can give her only morsel of food to her baby.”
“What can those who feel poor, give? One can be materially rich, yet feel poor. They’ll not part easy with anything.”
“To give away something, you don't need things. You need the giving away mind-set. Generally, you are either a giver or taker.”
“The idea of repaying your debts (whenever resources and opportunity allow) would have been a great moral of the story, had the paperboy accepted compensation.”
“He could have done more good with that. But he didn't. He fed his ego, denying the richest man on earth - Bill Gates! I guess that’s another way to be compensated. We don’t all want money, or always want money…”
“I think that ending runs against the grain of the story. It also leaves Bill Gates unredeemed, in a way. What messages should it have delivered then?”
“The idea of gratefulness (Gates hadn't forgotten after so many years, and went looking for his benefactor) would have been a great message of the story, but that wasn't highlighted!”
“The idea of perseverance (Gates looked for him for 45 days!) would have been a great message of the story, but that wasn't highlighted!”
“The idea of helping if you can - in whatever little way you can (Don't wait to be rich to give) would have been a great message of the story, but that wasn't highlighted!”
“The idea of unconditional altruism (paperboy gave - expecting nothing in return) would have been a great message of the story, but that wasn’t even mentioned!”
“What was highlighted is a conundrum, perhaps even a paradox! It was the one thing I totally disagreed with in this story. Mental Attitude has nothing to do with your Material Condition. The two are mutually exclusive, really.”
“The paperboy is not richer than Gates - by his own admission. Gates wouldn't think the paperboy was richer than him, just because he refused to be compensated.”
“The Rich don't think that way. Let the story author show at least some respect to someone who has succeeded so brilliantly and so completely, by having virtues and clarity we would do well to emulate.”
“Gates didn't need to seek out the boy who did good to him. Good (and bad) acts are like ripples in a pond of water. They move away from the force that sets them in motion.”
“They don't return to their source. They don’t need to. They spread the goodness (or badness) out - far and wide. This is how I think, good and bad works...”
“I found it interesting that Gates was used as a character in the story to make it more credible, given the challenges of health, sanitation, access to financial services, and agricultural development that Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation is trying to address in the world. Hats off to them.”
“I also liked the punch line in the end: Keep the Spirit (of giving, being grateful, and repaying debts) Alive. Thanks for sharing it, Joy. It was such a message-rich story.”
“Gosh, Pa,” John wrote back. “Never thought a story could have so many different perspectives. So much to learn still…”

My Vivid God

A grateful heart is happy, as it overflows with wonderment.

“We’ve had three houses on the market now,” Rose was despondent. “for over two years. They are just not selling. It is beginning to hurt…”

“He moves in mysterious ways,” Rosh patted her hand. “He bears us no ill. He is working on it…”
“Is He?” asked Rose. “I just can’t see it at the moment. You sure our file hasn’t gone missing …”
“No,” Rosh shook his head. “A lot more than a few houses not selling can go wrong in life…”
“Look around,” he said, pointing at the vivid colours in the garden around them. “Life is vivid, but what can we see if we stay asleep?”
“He does his work, but we remain blind to it. Mere Sahib de rang neyare, rang niyare …”
He remembered the absolutely amazing rendition of this song in the Punjabi film Ardaas by Gippy Grewal and Sunidhi Chauhan. He hummed it softly for her now, blissfully.
Her spirit began to lift.
“Isn’t that the Punjabi song you were hearing yesterday?”  asked him, joining them outside. “It’s got a very uplifting, inspiring beat. Pity, I don’t get the meaning of the lyrics.”
“Translating Punjabi poetry is out of my league,” said Rose “You tell us the meaning, Rosh.”
“Its theme is gratefulness - something you keep reminding me about, son,” said Rosh. “The secret of happiness is gratefulness in your heart. Gratitude for your fellow man. And for your maker.”

Ek Onkar Satnam, Karta Purakh, Nirbhoh, Nirvair, Akal Murat, Ajooni Saibhang

“God is one. Truth his name. He is the doer – creater of all. Fearless. Without malice. Embodiment of timelessness. Formless. Unborn. Indestructible.”
“He is beyond birth and death. He is the enlightened one. He manifests as the guru's grace, through whom you were reminded of His name. Meditate on it. As it was true in the beginning. Remained true throughout the Ages. Is true today. And Nanak says, will remain true forever.”

Gur parsad Jap. Aad sach, jugaad sach. Hai bhi sach. Nanak, hosi bhi sach

“Awareness of this unchanging Truth is your Guru’s gift to you. What to do with it? This realization of the Absolute - that always was, is, and always will be. Nanak says, remember.”

Beda paar laga lae tu, bandya satguran de naal lag ke

“Crossover safely, human, by tying your boat (life) to the true teachers. They will show the way. Guide you in crossing the ocean of life. As you can see, Guru is very important in the Sikh faith.”

Kujj naal na jaanaa ae, sab kujjh rae jaanaa ae jagg te

“Nothing will go with you. It will all be left behind here. Then why err, why accumulate?”

Te Bhullan bakhsh dinde, bakhshan haare, main balhaare

“He, the forgiver, forgives our trespasses. I am so grateful.”

Mere sahib de, rang neyare, main jaavan vaare

"My Master’s blessings are unparalleled, I am ecstatic."

Satnam satnam ji, jap lae Waheguru Vaheguru ji

"Chant the good name, the true name. Chant glories to the Guru, the teacher."
“Isn’t ‘rang’ colour, and ‘nyara’ unique?” Smith asked. “So, a multicolored Lord? My vivid God!”
“That too,” Rosh laughed. “Interesting, that you transliterated it like that. Our God is indeed colorful. He manifests in vivid colors. Just look around.”
“When grandpa Dev couldn’t shower himself in his last years, I used to bathe him. When the cold water hit his body, he used to chant ‘Hare Raam, Hare Raam’.”
“The colder the water, the louder his chanting. I used to ask him why he chanted ‘Hare (Green) Ram’ and not ‘Neele (Blue) Ram’, ‘Peele (Yellow) Ram’, ‘Lal (Red) Ram’ or ‘Bhure (Brown) Ram’.”
“He used to smile, but just keep chanting. I remember my question even today, because he never answered it. He wanted me to find my own answers. It is your questions that change your lives in the end, never their answers."
"Hare' also means to remember, so 'Hare Ram' meant remembering Ram (God). Other combinations I had made up were non-sensical in that sense, but he could very well have chanted ‘Lal Ram’ – so long as he did it soulfully.”

Data sab nu hi jaane, koyi raja, koi bhikhari

“The Benefactor knows all, the rich and the poor. It matters not what language they speak or whether they even speak. It is immaterial what name they use to address Him, how they perceive Him, and whether they even perceive Him.”

Oho aap hi taa hai, saare jag da lakhari

"He is still the one, who cares for the whole creation (writes our destinies)."

Taan hi aap karda ae, paar utaare, main jaawan vaare

"That’s why he himself, sees us through, I am awed."

Mere malik de rang neyare, main jaavan vaare.

"My Master’s facets are unique, I find them awesome."

Satnam satnam ji, jap lae Waheguru Vaheguru ji.

"So, chant His name with gratitude. Chant Guru's name with gratitude."

Ki ki kari jaavan dasso, Sahib di Vaddiyayi

"What else can I reveal about the magnanimity of the Lord, tell me?"

Jinne kakkhaan di kamayi vich, barkat payi

“Who makes people with meagre means, prosper.”

Hath fadke karde ne, aap kinaare, main balhare

“Holds their hands until they are beached safely, I sing His glories."

Mere rabba de rang neyare, main jaavan vaare.

"My Lord’s legends are singularly distinctive, I sing odes to Him."

Satnam satnam ji, jap lae Waheguru Vaheguru ji.

"Chant the true name. Thank your Guru. Be aware of their blessings. Acknowledge them!"
“What will that do? Don't they weave their magic regardless? They do. But, we still need to flip a switch inside us, so there is light. For us to see it. The garden is all around us, but we see nothing of it while it is dark."
“Both plenty and paucity, you see, exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. We see nothing in the dark, where there may be everything. We need light to see. And it is always our conscious choice whether we will flick that light on or not...”
“When we choose light, we see the abundance that is present. Love, health, money, job, family, friends, nature and things that give us pleasure. The nothingness of dark vanishes instantly. We experience Eden on Earth."
"A Heaven, rich in colours, where one is content with what one has…”
“It is easy to be thankful,” Rose sighed, “when one is happy.”
“It is not happiness that makes us grateful,” Rosh smiled. “It is gratefulness, that makes us happy.”

Mind Your Language

“He’s an asshole,” Josh was complaining about another kid who had been giving him grief at the kindergarten.

Rosh smiled at how he had said the word, but said nothing.

“That butthole’s been giving me shit all week,” Josh continued animatedly, emboldened by his father’s rapt attention and supportive smile.

“And I’ve put up with all his crap,” he continued, “But now I’ve had enough of the butthead. So, I told him to fuck off.”

He felt pretty proud, rattling out a lot of new words he had been adding to his lexicon at the kindergarten.

But if he had expected fatherly applause at his courage, he was severely disappointed.

Rosh’s face darkened at this barrage of profanity spewing out of his child’s mouth. Not caring to investigate the incident any further and uncaring about who was at fault, his temper flared.

“Shut your mouth”, he rebuked viciously, “It is like a sewer, with only dirt flowing through.”

Josh was suddenly scared. It was when he had flown in such a rage, that Rosh had slapped him a few times. Fear leapt up through his veins, releasing warm water that ran down the side of his pajamas.

Despite his flaming anger, Rosh saw the wet pool appear on the carpet where Josh stood.

“Go!” he barked, “Change your pajamas. Then get back here!”

Baffled tears ran down Josh’s cheeks, shame at wetting the carpet compounding his hurt. Isha pushed him out of the room and rushed to get some cleaning wipes for the carpet.

As she came back and soaked up the fluid, she looked at Rosh accusingly. Rosh saw her look. It infuriated him even more. But he looked away.

"Just because you’re offended”, she implored, “doesn’t mean you’re right."

Seeing that he was still fuming, she hastened out of the room to get Josh back in quickly before him.

Delaying or seeking refuge away from him at such times was dangerous, she knew, and likely to have more dire consequences for any and all.

Josh had washed his face but it burnt hot with fear. It looked quite red and puffed in the mirror. He was changing his pajamas when Isha came in.

She guided him gently back into Rosh’s room, and stood quietly behind the boy. But Rosh had cooled down in the interim.

He had been staring at the urine spot on the carpet, and feeling remorse at his outburst. Compassionately, he opened his arms to them.

Surprised again by his sudden show of kindness, Josh turned around and hugged his mother tightly as he bawled over in a sudden release.

That removed any vestige of anger that may have been left in Rosh. He walked over slowly, and picked Josh up in his arms.

Then he walked out on the deck, his body feeling the tremors from his son’s still violent sobs. They stood quietly for some time, as Rosh stared at the sky for guidance.

“A young man named Mike,” he began to speak after a while, “received a parrot as a gift. The parrot had a bad attitude and an even worse vocabulary.”

“Every word out of the bird's mouth was rude, obnoxious and laced with profanity. Mike tried and tried to change the bird's attitude, but the bird simply refused to learn the good stuff.”

“Mike tried speaking only good words, played soft music and even kept the parrot hungry when the bird was abusive, to clean up its vernacular.”

“But finally, he was fed up. One day, he yelled at the parrot. The parrot yelled back at him. Mike shook the parrot. The parrot got angrier and became even ruder.”

“In desperation, Mike grabbed the bird, pulled him out of the cage and put him in the freezer. For a few minutes the parrot squawked and kicked and screamed.”

“Then suddenly there was total quiet. Not a peep was heard from inside the freezer for over a minute.”

“Afraid that he'd killed the parrot, Mike rushed to open the freezer door. The parrot quietly stepped out onto Mike's outstretched hands.”

“As it walked up Mike’s arms to sit on his head, the parrot said calmly: I’m sorry I’ve upset you with my language and rude actions. I won’t ever do it again.”

“Mike was stunned at the absolute change in the bird's attitude and language. As he was about to ask the parrot what had made such a dramatic change in his behavior, the bird asked, very softly:”

"May I ask what the chicken did?"

What Makes 100%?

Josh laughed at the funny joke. Rosh loved it, that he’d got it straight away.

“Wanna play a game?” he asked.

Josh nodded, a happy smile suddenly breaking up on his face.

Rosh got together a calculator, a few scrap papers and a pencil.

He wrote up the letters of the English alphabet with numbers underneath the letters to show their place valuesin the alphabet.

A   B  C   D  E  F  G  H   I   J   K   L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S   T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z
01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

“If we equated our alphabets” he said, “to numbers in order of their positions, then:”

H + A + R + D + W + O + R + K
Gives us
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

K + N + O + W + L + E + D + G + E
Gives us
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

L + U + C + K
Gives us
12+21+3+11 = 47%

“None of them makes 100%. Then what makes 100%?”

“Is it Money?” asked Josh, now getting into the rhythm of the game.

“Check it out”, Rosh offered him the opportunity.

Josh spelled the word correctly, then painstakingly wrote up the equation and substituted the place values for the letters. Then his little fingers jabbed at the calculator keys:

M + O + N + E + Y
13+15+14+5+25 = 72%

They came short.

“No!” he yelled, then gave it another shot before his father could say anything, “Leadership?”

“Try it out”, Rosh offered him again.

Again Josh spelled the word correctly, then laboriously wrote up the equation and substituted the place values for the letters:

L + E + A + D + E + R + S + H + I + P
12+5+1+4+5+18+19+8+9+16 = 97%

They came short again.

“No!” he exclaimed, but had another candidate ready in a flash, “Love?”

“Go for it”, Rosh encouraged.

Again Josh spelled the word, wrote up the equation and substituted the place values for the letters:

L + O + V + E
12+15+22+5 = 54%

This missed the mark by a long shot. Josh tried a few more words, then quickly lost his patience.

“I give up”, he sighed, “What is it?”

“Every problem has a solution”, said Rosh, “all it takes to find it, is to change our own attitude.”

“ATITUDE" Josh shouted, excited again, and wanting to check out its worth.

Rosh helped him spell the word correctly. Josh wrote up the equation again and substituted the place values for the letters. Then he did the number crunching on the calculator:

A + T + T + I + T + U + D + E
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

“Yay”, he punched the air triumphantly with his tiny fist, “It is attitude!”

“Yea”, Rosh pulled him closer suddenly, and hugged him tightly, “It is the most important. It is our attitude, not our aptitude, which determines our altitude.”

“Ability is what we are capable of. Motivation reveals what we will do. But attitude determines how well we do it.”

“It is our ATTITUDE towards Life, towards Work, towards Others, which makes our life 100% Successful.”

Money Complicates Relationships

"It is when money gets involved," Raymond continued, "that matters get a bit complicated. Just the other day, a reader posed an interesting dilemma to the NZ Herald columnist Mary Holm."

Beatrice handed him his drink, and the boys quietened down a bit, their curiosity piqued. They gathered around him once more.

"This lady wrote to Mary," Raymond continued, "that she had two lovely daughters, both middle aged now. Her husband was now retired with $500,000 invested in the bank."

"The elder daughter and her husband were borrowing $600,000 from the bank to buy a block of flats as an investment."

"So the father suggested that instead of borrowing the whole lot from the bank, they borrow $500,000 from him, and the rest from the bank."

"That way they could split the interest saved - being the difference between what he got from his bank and the commercial interest the couple had to pay to their bank. A Win for both."

"I don't get it," Josh interrupted.

"A bank charges more interest from its borrowers," Dane explained, "and pays less to its savers, whose money it borrows to lend to others in the first place. That is how it makes its profit."

"So if one member of the family has spare money, and another needs to borrow it, they can loan it directly to each other, without getting a Bank involved. Banks take their cut from both parties."

"Let's say Pa gets 4% interest per year on his savings," he asked his little brother. "Do you know what that means?"

"Yea," said Josh. "I'm not stupid!"

"What does it mean then?" asked Dane.

"That if Pa gives the bank $100, he'll get $104 back after one year," said Josh, looking at his elder brother with supreme confidence and daring him to challenge it.

Dane patted his head affectionately and nodded.

"That's right," he agreed. "And let's say the bank will charge me 8% per annul, annul meaning year, if I take a loan from them. What does that mean?"

"That if you had borrowed $100, you'll have to pay $108 back to the bank after a year," said Josh.

"Correct," said Dane. "Can you see now, what happens if Pa offers to loan me the same money directly at 6% p.a., pa being shorthand for per annul?"

"Then we will both gain $2, and the bank will lose its $4 profit. I'll have to pay less interest and Pa will get a bit more interest, than if we were dealing with a bank. So, borrowing directly from Pa and splitting the difference we both save, will be good for both of us."

"Very good," Raymond beamed proudly, "but this reader wrote that her younger daughter felt a bit left out because of this arrangement."

"If she were in the same situation, the parents would have gladly given them both, half of the $500,000. But she was not currently planning to borrow any money. So the younger sibling suggested that whatever gain the elder made, also had to be given to her, to be fair."

"But that wouldn't be profitable for the parents," Beatrice joined in, "because she would gain at the parents' expense. The parents would be taking the risk of loaning to the family for nothing."

"Yea," replied Raymond. "And that was the point I was trying to make. Despite the best of intentions, money can complicate relationships."

"There is so much friction in the world," said Isha. "I wouldn't want to create more. I'd drop the whole idea of lending to family."

"It's still worth doing," said Dane, "if the parents trust their elder daughter and her husband. Even though the parents would be back to square one themselves, both the daughters would be better off due to this arrangement."

"But the parents won't be back to square one," Raymond clarified. "Because they will get 6% instead of 4% interest per annul, they'll become liable to pay more tax."

"The gift of 2% to the younger daughter is not a tax deductible expense. So, they'll have taken extra risk, paid more tax, and made their daughters richer, by becoming slightly worse off themselves."

"Bad idea!" Beatrice reiterated. "I think they should drop it."

"There is still a way they could all gain," replied Raymond. "They'd just have to cut up the pie slightly differently. Assuming, 4% and 8% were the interest rates in this case, Mary suggests that the parents charge the older daughter 7% p.a."

"That way she still saves 1% on $500,000 yearly. That's $5,000 worth of savings."

"She'll probably look at this solution in a different light," argued Isha. "She could have been $10,000 better off had her sister not intervened. Saved 2% under the original plan."

"Maybe," Raymond agreed. "But it's still better than saving nothing, if the parents opt for Status Quo, as you recommend. The Bank would charge her 8%, so she's still better off."

"Gift the younger daughter 1%. That way she gets the same benefit as her elder sibling. Parents also still get more than the 4% the bank would have paid them, being 7% less extra tax paid less 1% gifted, so still somewhere between 1-2% depending on their tax rate. Now, they have all gained."

"What if the actual interest rates are different?" Beatrice objected. "It's not going to be so straightforward a calculation then, is it?"

"That shouldn't be a problem," Dane responded. "Just charge her 75% of the difference between bank savings and lending rates, over and above the Bank savings rate."

"So if the rates are 9% and 12%, charge her 9% + 75% x (12-9)% = 9% + 2.25% = 11.25%. She still saves 0.75% of $500,000 which works out to $3,750 yearly. The thing to remember is that whatever she saves yearly, is what the younger daughter gets gifted too. All fair now."

"It is not going to be smooth sailing between these two sisters," warned Isha.

"Probably not," Raymond agreed. "But that is their business. Equanimity, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Which is why I want to make it clear to both of you right now, that whatever I choose to give one of you, I don't have to give to the other."

"I'll treat you individually, not equally, as only that acknowledges the uniqueness of both of you. Whether I give out of love or based on merit, it is unlikely that the numbers will ever be the same anyway, because you will have different circumstances."

"At least you know now," Beatrice smiled benignly at them, "that you will both be getting something."

"I will give who I wish, what I wish, when I wish," Raymond stopped her in her tracks. "Without having to be fair to the other. I may also choose not to give anything at all to anyone. Remember that."

"Mother Nature does that too. It does not always distribute everything fairly among all its offspring."

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…"