I walked down the woods
And passed the geraniums,
Violet in colour, and
Delicately poised
Noticeable and yet
Not so ……
And then the old oak tree
Tall and mighty !
How do you explain
The simple petal
So gentle and mild
Can it compete
With the solid oak
In all its grandeur;
Yet they stand
To complement each other.
If the petal and the oak
Are here today ,
We too stand together,
Strong and weak,
With strength and beauty
Needing each other
From the rising to the setting
Life in perfect harmony
Mother’s day has come and gone….but its not for nothing that one hears this quote “ the hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world”…..its the influence of a mother on her child, that you see in men and women today.
She was one who greatly impacted my life. She raised 5 boys with a firm and loving hand. She loved my Dad. Dad was the Provider, but Mum was the Home Minister. She looked after all aspects of our life at home.
Her favourite pastimes were gardening, and baking. She even iced cakes for our birthdays, and this encouraged me later in life to learn sugar craft . Her sweet making at Christmas was real fun. We made traditional sweets like Kulkuls, rolled on combs (clean ones!!) and marzipans . But the highlight was helping her to stir the batter for the cake. We fought to get our turn to stir. There was the time when she broke eggs skillfully, over the bowl of batter. So I offered to do it and guess what….my strike on the egg was so hard that the egg and its contents went all over the place.
She also encouraged us with music. One of her favourite songs was “Thinking of things” and “I have often walked down this street before”. Thereon we took to musical instruments like the violin, piano, accordion, and guitar. Even the drums came in, but was too noisy to continue at home.
She even taught our househelp ( a young man}, to learn English. This man later learnt to read the newspaper , drive the car, and even help in compounding medicines at my Dad’s dispensary.
Mum was always busy, and did outdoor as well as indoor work. She knew aspects of house finances and banking, and in her marketing , be sure she got the best bargains. She knew all the nooks and corners of south Mumbai . So when it came to Christmas , Santa never failed to get us a variety of toys and of course a whole lot of story books .
Mum took keen interest in our studies. Her visits to our school were quite frequent , and there was no need for ‘Open Day’, as she knew her children’s progress in an ongoing way. Time for homework was an essential part of the day.
Any fights between us boys at home , would end with a firm hand and specially when it came to the twins. I remember one Christmas , we got so caught up with the preparations and excitement that we got into our own squabbles. On one such occasion, we got so boisterous that we were separated and had to kneel down in two different rooms until sobriety returned.
We were blest to always have enough food on the table. One of her favorite methods of helping us to adapt to every type of food, especially vegetables, was to get the very one we did not like. Be sure that if one disliked spinach or turnip, it would feature again the next day.
A few interesting incidents I recollect. Mum took me for an icecream to a quiet restaurant. I treasure that moment, as I felt so special. On another occasion we were taken for a movie “Pepe”. However since Mum was not aware of the movie time, we landed up at the interval. Mum had quite a task consoling us.
During school days, we took keen interest in games apart from studies. Evenings were for outdoor games. If it was the kite flying season (Sep-Oct) we would be on the terrace enjoying ourselves. But then the call would come for study time, at around 6.30pm. And with great reluctance we returned to our books. I remember playing cricket in the compound. While batting, I struck the ball in such way that it broke the window pane. With great dread I went home to confess,…..but amazingly Mum forgave me and even affirmed me for being honest.
She abhorred any dishonesty. Quite a few government clerks faced her ire, when they avoided giving receipts for payment made. Even the taxi driver would be given a firm reprimand if he tried cheating her. But she was very generous, and Dad would not even know , the times she helped others and even the church, in keeping with the “ left hand should not know what the right hand does”
The day I successfully finished my Studies, I was astonished when she welcomed me home with a beautifully decorated cake and a graduation booklet. I was the last and the least , but she never ever treated me with any indifference. She patiently waited for this young man to make his way to be “ someone” and was very concerned about this.
The best gift she gave me is my “Faith” . I always saw her pray fervently every evening. She did not have to tell me ….but at such times she taught without preaching.
Mum was a pillar of strength when my Dad suffered hypertensive strokes , and was invalid for about 6 years. She kept the morale of our home , and herself strong in faith. Her courage knew no bounds. Nothing deterred her, as long as she knew she was doing the right thing.
But her life changed when Dad passed away. She missed him, and mourned for him even some years later. Lonliness set in. No matter how we tried , but she never regained her bold and confident self. The final blow came when cancer set in. She was told the truth, only 6 months later at the end, to soften the reality. She was really distraught.
Her final moments were exceptional. She prayed the rosary with me and my family and then gave each of us her final blessing. That evening we were surprised when a priest brought her ,Holy Communion without making any request. Next morning she slowly sank and breathed her last.
As I prayed her favorite prayer “ Eyes of Jesus , look upon me” , she turned to look knowingly…….and that was the last. But heaven always awaits such a Mother, strong and courageous ….. in faith.
When I look at the sun setting , it evokes tremendous feelings . How many sunsets have I missed.
I am well on in years, which means 365 sunsets a year, and with the number of years one has lived, it means , missing out on the beauty of a sunset that many times.
I have sat at one or two sunsets in solitude,and waited patiently to see a myriad of colours appearing at the dip of the red globe. I have seen it from the top of a hill and at the sea shore. Its beauty continues to excite me.
Here I think of work and rest. I have grown up with the idea implanted in me that , work is important. Though I detest the idea of “ Work is worship”. Work has its place in one’s life. It is important to make a living. But I think that “Rest” is also important. What would happen if you run your car continually without a break. That will spell disaster for your car, as a) you will run out of fuel b) your car will eventually breakdown.
Have you heard of the World War II, when In the USA , during the height of the war, the government thought that the best way to increase production, was to drop the rest day. Did it work? Certainly not! The result was man’s capacity for productivity decreased and in the process, absenteeism increased, with people reporting sick.
So coming to rest ….. Since time immemorial, you hear that if one wants to reach that place, then one needs to ensure that one takes time to rest. This is the time when one is most creative. After all, our Creator also rested after His work of creation.
In Solitude , one meets your innermost core, and hopefully meet the Lord Himself.
During my timeoff at a Retreat Centre, I had these few days to spend time in this fashion. It was not time lost though. The days of Solitude also became days of Soli two-d, as I had the opportunity to go for walks with my Retreat Master, who is a very contemplative priest. We hardly spoke , except on these walks, when he shared some of his wisdom on the Rock of Ages. He had seen so many sunsets, that he even knew where the sun would set at which part of the various hill ranges at different times of the year.
I did get to capture this wonderful sunset along with him, as a passerby, very kindly helped to get this on my camera.
Solitude is so important, but there are times one can share times of quiet, even with another ; and even in your own home.
Do take the time, to step back and view life, …… don’t let it pass by in a flash… There is so much to see, and share. Then you return refreshed and revived to walk on!!
You may wonder what this is all about. Have you heard an eulogy?
Many may have heard the good deeds of a person, or the wonderful life that he or she lived after his/her demise.
I have a question. Why does one wait for a person to leave this world to speak well about him/her?
Will it benefit the person any more when he/she is gone? Or is it only for the family members to hear about his/her life, which they now begin to appreciate even more.
Will anyone ever speak ill of a person who has breathed his/her last? Very rarely..
So let’s break tradition.. we can affirm people NOW! Tell them what we appreciate about them when they are here in our presence and will be encouraged . It will make a world of a difference..
Don’t shed tears after your loved one has gone. Tell him/her exactly how you feel about the impact on your life. If you have anything negative, then, please do not share it with others. Rather think of the good that a person has done. Speak about that to the person directly and even to others.
Build up people , ….do not pull down…
So speak before and not after; Speak about the good before and not after..
Your good words spoken ‘after’ will only be an echo, which the departed soul may not hear, and would have greatly benefitted him or her in their lifetime……probably to know and be appreciated.
A golden memory of my Dad will always be of him carrying me on his shoulder. I was a little young boy, struck by diphteria. Next door my granduncle ( more like my grandfather, as Dad lost his father in his childhood) was hosting a lunch for the entire family; and since I was not keen on being left out , my Dad carried me across.
Those were the days of beautiful memories, when I remember playing cricket,and Dad on his way to his clinic, would try out his overarm spin for a brief moment and then carry on to work.
He always encouraged us in sports and studies.
We were five brothers and played nearly all games….hockey, cricket, table tennis, badminton, …later he ensured we learned the nuances of tennis, with proper coaching on finishing with school. We also learnt to swim.
His idea of education was not only studying well, but to be able to relate well to others big or small, rich or poor. For this reason he insisted on sending us to Antonio De Souza’s High School, where he himself studied. It certainly helped to achieve this purpose, as this school also reached out to people of lesser means, and had good results in academics and sports.
We had a simple lifestyle. Even though Dad had a car and a driver, we would normally either walk to school or take the bus. On finishing the morning session at school we would return with Dad in the car. The times it rained heavily, he would insist that we get the driver to drop us to school ( a drive in pouring rain was a thrill )
At the family meal, we all had our respective places, with the youngest at the table end. Being a slow eater, Dad finally promoted me to sit at his right hand. This helped me in the process of being more alert and quick during the meal.
Summer holidays were memorable. Many young boys would join us , ( we were 5 brothers) to play various team games in the home compound. Dad never raised his voice and I never saw him losing his temper. The only time I saw him upset was when my older brother accidently got a severe cut on his arm through kite manjar ( thread with glass coating ), which went quite deep near the bone. Dad hurried home and his first reaction, was to give him a few spanks ( just light ones) and then deal with the medical concerns .
We also visited Borivili for short holidays at our bungalow in beautiful natural surroundings. Those were the days when we relaxed in the balcony on the first floor and enjoyed the light breeze blowing in from a creek nearby. Well water was so good , that the cup of tea, had a delectable taste. I have good memories of pulling water from the well. However we still required to replenish our water requirements from a bullock cart carrying water container. We relished the mangoes we plucked from the trees in our orchard.
There were more holidays later in Goa. But Dad’s visits were few on those trips. He was a staunch Indian and involved in the freedom struggle with his uncle Dr. Ubaldo Mascarenhas, who later became the Mayor of Bombay. Hence he was on a black list of the ruling Portuguese in Goa until Liberation. The holidays in other parts of India are still fresh. We had a few , but beautiful ones. ….in Bangalore, Nainital and Matheran. I treasure those holidays as we really enjoyed family time and got refreshed .
Even though he encouraged us all in our education. I really appreciate his special concern and patience for me, when I faced challenges of exam stress and choice of careers in my youthful days.
He worked very hard and never thought of retirement. He reached out to many people in the course of his medical practice. We learnt of his generosity, when many patients returned long after his passing away. Even though he never joined serious politics, he was well versed in current affairs and I would often hear him express very mature views on problems the country faced. On several occasions he was requested to stand for elections, but turned down these offers, for the sake of his own family responsibilities. We were a close family , but he also handled the affairs of the extended family, which involved property and other legal matters; this eventually took a toll on his health.
A quiet man indeed. However some of his accomplishments speak for him. He was a Gold Medallist in Pathology at King Edward Memorial Medical College. He also won medals in Badminton and in his Stamp Collections … The Philatelic Society of India Exhibition of Stamps. He served in his quiet way on Committees for the Underprivileged, like the Society of Piety and Tagore Society( for reaching out to students in Education)
The additional worries and responsibilities, led to him experiencing several strokes due to high blood pressure. He slowed down and it was a compulsory retirement from his private medical practice . Even then I was amazed to hear his shuffle as he came down the stairs to sit with us and enjoy some exciting matches of the Football World Cup or Hockey or some of the Olympic Games.
He experienced a mini revival some days before he passed away. It was such a joy to see his smile on Easter Morning. He even visited my brother next door for a birthday celebration. But that was his last walk ……….he slept peacefully that night , to wake to eternity at 0030hrs on the 24th April 1984..
My Dad…..Dr. Micky (Michael) Leopold Mascarenhas…….R.I.P.
I wish the quiet of the night continues
Into the peace of the day.
I wish that the light of true love shines through the darkness of hatred.
I wish that the sunrise of tomorrow will bring the joys of brotherhood .
I wish th
at people all over the world lived under one roof.
I wish that there was no need of wishes.
I wish that that every wish being granted I develop a heart of a gratitude.
The root of anger is the thought process. Whenever I have been wrongly treated or faced aggression, or even got into heated arguments, I get angry.
Much as people advise, controlling anger is a big challenge. When such a situation arises, the mind and body do get affected. Further the body systems get into a hyped mode and can cause the repurcussions which lead to increased blood pressure and severe headaches, lack of sleep and other ailments.
The best ways of recognizing the beginnings of anger is to see whether one is affected by the turn of events in relating to another. Will the reality of losing any agument or discussion upset me.
How can I overcome anger. The best way is to have an attitude of detachment.
Will winning or losing any argument or discussion, give me that much more joy, or lead to ill health .
How about thinking about the interests of others. Does that sound strange?
On the contrary , whenever one thinks genuinely of the interest of others, one builds very good relationships for the future. After all when I thing of the well being of another , it helps the other person to realize that being largehearted, is a gracious gift to another, and has ripple effects. More good is channelized by the promotion of such attitude.
Not all anger is wrong. When a person sees another doing wrong which affects others by this unjustified behavior, we certainly need to take steps to ensure that the person is apprised of this behavior, so as to take remedial /corrective measures.
However the best tonic to deal with anger is to refrain from reacting , and to respond with
a sound mind. Further if one has been wrongly treated, forgiveness is taking the high road to help mend relations.
It makes good sense to “ Never let the sun go down on your anger” Forget about revenge, getting even or churning up the thoughts of events leading to the arousal of anger.
Peace of mind and heart are tonics for a happy life.
Grandma Precy
The elders called her Precy, but she was Nana to us her grandchildren. She was a very devout and a multi talented lady, adept in horse riding, tennis, besides also being an experienced midwife. The Africans in the village greatly admired her. She was an able support to my grandfather who was a district officer in Kenya, East Africa.
She had three children , Sophia, John and Joseph. All three were sent as boarders to Pune to the good schools which accommodated boarders and gave a very good all round education. Nonetheless, my mother Sophia ,the eldest struggled with homesickness. Her consolation was her first cousin Margaret( Maggie).
Precy showed tremendous internal strength in all she did in Africa and subsequently in Goa , when she shifted base and looked after the home affairs. My grandfather completed his service in the District Services of East Africa, with honours, and was awarded an OBE( Order of the British Empire), a citation given by the Queen of England for distinguished services rendered .
However when he returned to Goa, Precy changed, to become much quieter and subdued. Gone was that spirit of boldness. She displayed a prayerful demeanor, and looked after affairs of the home.
She showed a sharp eye to watch over her grandchildren who visited Goa on holidays. She did her best to give us a good holiday besides carefully watching over our recreational activities. Thus she undertook the role of guardian very seriously, specially when it came to the local girls. I remember a ball falling into the next compound, and entering the compound to fetch it; she called out frantically to return immediately. Surely this was a gesture to ensure that no infatuations develop into serious relationships.
I have vivid memories of my grandmother preparing the elaborate Goan sweets. Each sweet was worth its weight in gold, simply because the method was so tedious.
Another memory was of her rewarding the coconut plucker with a good sundowner As she poured him a drink, he would make a fuss, saying that was’ enough’ , but give the glass a slight jerk, to get even more of the drink in the glass; Precy pretended as if she did not know the joke.
Still my grandmother was very brave,. She spent her days alone after the demise of my grandfather. However she rather stayed alone, than be with us in Bombay. She disliked the city and enjoyed being in her own home in the village environment of Goa at Guirim.
Eventually she had a fall, or what one would call the fracture before the fall. She was flown into Mumbai, as the city was later called, and had a surgery for hip replacement after which she never regained her independence .
She spent her last days at Vasai in a home for the aged , under the care of nuns. She had begun to lose her memory. One fine day , she breathed her last. The surprise , on that day; her son John was travelling to Vapi, on work, when the train stopped suddenly at Vasai; this was the exact time that Precy passed away. We will remember her for all the love and care she showered on us. May her soul rest in peace.
A ‘Cuppa Tea’
Sharma and Prakash were soon approaching their destination at Bandra station. Sharma tall and grey, ready for a little relaxation looked at Prakash.in askance….”Are you ready for a cup of tea?” He asks the shorter and more serious man.
” Sure, well, which tea are you interested in. I like masala chai” says an overworked and tense Prakash.. Then Sharma with a wisp of hair just drooping over his thoughtful forehead, looking surprised, replied, ” Not only masala chai, but green tea, black tea, coffee…you name it and you get it.”
The question now is : what has this meeting got to do with tea or coffee.
Is it an offer to relax and chat or is there something more.
Will Prakash drop his tense manner or will it continue over the tea chat.
The answers spills out when Sharma shares his story. In a,slow walk to the tea centre, his story gradually unfolds. He is in the last stage of cancer. He has prepared for his final journey. He only wants to spend his last days on things that matter.
Friends are forever. So why wait for the final departure. Today matters. Treasure every moment.
Do the best that one can! Reach out and touch people’s lives.
As the scout’s slogan goes :
Be Ready!
To face the Master… and hear him” say:
“Welcome good and faithful servant,
Enter into the joy of your Master”
viewvin 