Wow, what a twist.

The world heavy-weight champion was standing in a corner and eagerly waiting. The most agile pugilist ever was leaning on the wall, speechless, and was a spectator to the tantivy of the hospital staff moving athwart his view. One of the most daring ringster the world has ever known looked pale. The ultimate bruiser, holding the world record for the most number of first round knock-outs, was looking every bit knocked out.

His heart pounded and immediately stopped for a moment when the OT door opened. He started walking towards the door. Never ever was his foot work so desynchronised. The intense eyes, the very look of which would scare the opponents, turned moist. For the first time in the life of this champion incessant tears rolled down the cheek and plunged to the floor six and a half feet below. He raised his hands in reciprocation to the identical act performed by the nurse, The “iron hands” were shivering for the first time. Though the package transferred by the nurse exactly weighed 3.25 kg and could fit in one of his palms, he held it in both of his palms. The feelings were so overwhelming that all the heavy iron-pumping and the dreaded work-out sessions in the gym looked less tiresome. Overflowing emotions had drained his energy. Yes, the gentle and the most beautiful creation of mother nature had knocked out the world heavy-weight champion without a fight. The raw power and the brawn was no match to the innocent look that beckoned him and he had given up without any resistance. HIS NEW BORN BABY HAD WON HIS HEART IN THE VERY FIRST ROUND. HE WAS A FATHER NOW. WHAT A TWIST IN HIS LIFE.

I will always remember the moment I became a father. It was definitely the most beautiful twist in my life. This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Good for the Nation



A group of urchins had come up with a bomb hoax at the oration of the stupid politician.They executed the plan to perfection. The terror-stricken crowd ran out of the auditorium as the vote-monger politician, unaware that he is the only one left, carried out the discourse verbatim. Nature shook the building with an earth quake and took it down. A stupid politician gone and the lives of thousands of people, eagerly waiting outside for the bomb squad to arrive, saved. The bomb hoax turned out to be a blessing in disguise for the Nation in more ways than one.


This post is written in response to the prompt “A blessing in disguise” by Shilpa Garg who blogs at  ‘A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose‘ on Hundred Words on Saturday – Write Tribe.

The story unfolds – The finale

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You might want to read Part-1Part-2Part-3Part-4Part-5 and Part-6.


Manojavam’s life itself was a Dream. Not many people get to live a life so meaningful and pleasant. Infact, others can only  Dream about leading such a life.He saw a nation’s fight for freedom from close quarters and also the way it transformed after independence.

A successful married life spanning over seven decades. Children, grand-children and great grand children, oh! it was a dream alright.

He began listening to music on a gramophone and then upgraded to Sony Walkman and now he listens music in  Bose audio system. “It seems MS likes the Bose System as her singing quality is the best in it” he had remarked.

He used to make trunk calls earlier in his life, then came the landline connection and finally the cellular phone. He started with a Nokia do whatever you want with me but I will not break mobile and now he is a proud owner of Apple iPhone 5 presented to him on his 100th birthday.

When the Internet Saga began, he was more than happy to be an ever crawling spider on the World Wide Web. He read a lot about Buddha, Vivekananda, Mahatma, etc…. on it. “It is a virtual teacher” he often remarked. He read extensively about the World Wars too.

He started reading books at the City Central Library and then set up his own library and now he reads ebooks. He owns an Amazon Kindle Paperwhite. He started blogging when he was 90 years. He has a lot of followers and most of them are youngsters. Once he blogged about how nice it would be if Shakira, Lady Gaga and the likes would preform sporting a kumkum and a Mysore Silk saree. Yongsters thought it was a humorous post but he was actually serious.

He had walked bare footed throughout his schooling. But now among his collection were Nike – Air and Hush puppies.

His first mode of transport was his foot. Then came the bicycle. While the visited Bombay to listen to the Mahatma speak he had travelled in a car owned by a very rich friend of his Dad. Now Manojavam travels around in the Mercedes Benz owned by his son.

He and his wife had brought four rag-pikcers from the streets and transformed them into educated responsible citizens. He always mentioned about four of his god-given sons proudly. They too believed that the couple was their parents.

He had travelled the world around visiting places of interest to him.

But he never craved for anything. He accepted whatever came to him gleefully. The only thing he insisted was a hot cup of coffee prepared only by his wife when he used to go through the Newspaper in the mornings. On his hundredth birthday bash he was asked by one of the invitees as to whether he had any unfulfilled dreams, for which he replied ” I have been living a dream for a century. The only time I disconnect with it is when I sleep. I don’t get dreams in sleep, in fact sleep interrupts me living my dream.”

It was such a meaningful and fulfilling life. He drank the cup of life till its very last drop.

The day after Manojavam suffered a second heart attack, his dream ceased. He had left for the afterworld. A get together was organised in his remembrance ten days after his demise. Manjula was seated in the front row. One of his rag-pickers took centre-stage and read his eulogy.

” A special life has ceased. But not before teaching us how to live. Appa (father) has shown the right spirit with which we need to face life. He lived through a century and I have no doubt that the way he lead his life has inspired all of us and in time will inspire many. Sweet memories, food for thought, love for music, off the track travel destinations, people friendly and a life nothing less than a dream are some things that he will be known for. May his soul rest in peace”.

The story unfolds – Part 6

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You might want to read Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4 and Part-5.


Manojavam was all alone in the hospital ward that morning. Manjula had gone to clarify something with the doctor. Manojavam was lost in thoughts. He was pondering over the question that his grand daughter had asked him almost ten days ago – “Why do people call you a good person?” He took out a sheet and a pen.  A meaningful childhood, a father who was also a best friend, a successful married life and a life span that just crossed a century mark, ought to make you a poet.  He scribbled –

Down the memory lane,

backwards through the path of life.

I began to think from when,

I became a good person.

My first teacher was mom,

she fed me the essence of life.

My first best-friend was dad,

who calmed my inner strife.

Then a host of people came,

nuances of life each taught.

some through doings and other through misdoings,

knowledge in my life they brought.

Buddha – the power of silence,

Hitler – the debacle of violence.

Mahatma – the pursuit of truth,

Vivekanada – the virtue of youth.

Then comes a list close to my heart,

of people who share my blood.

Their part they did play,

In my heart they did stay.

Wife – the bliss of company,

Children – the bringers of life’s harmony.

True Friends – the unconditional helpers.

Books – the non-living guides

All these people, roles they played,

In my journey, close they stayed.

They guided me till the end from the start,

I thank them every moment, from my heart.


As he finished writing, Manjula just entered the ward. Her interest was piqued when she saw Manojavam writing something. She sat next to him and read what he had written. When she was finished she looked at Manojavam and noticed that his eyes were fading and he was sweating profusely. It was another Heart attack. His heart was overwhelmed due to recollection of so many memories and forgot to make the lub-dub sounds. He was shifted to he ICU. As he lay motionless, Priya peeked through the small window of the door to have a look at her great grand father. “Why isn’t appajja talking to us anymore?” she enquired. “Appajja is in deep sleep dear” Manjula replied. “Then wake him up. I want to talk to him” she requested. Manjula remarked “We should not wake him up dear, he is dreaming”……………..



The story unfolds – Part 5

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You might want to read Part-1, Part-2, Part-3 and Part-4.


The best part about Manojavam was the timing of his stay on earth. Born in 1913 he completed a century in 2013 and remains unbeaten yet. Travel , as far as Manojavam’s life is concerned, can be interpreted in two ways. One is his travel in time from the pre-independence era to the post-independence era and the other is his travel in space, not outer space but space as on the surface of the earth.

His father had actively involved himself in the freedom struggle and Manojavam continued that trend. Five years after the Jallianwala Bhag massacre, he along with his father had travelled to visit the place. His father had sadly remarked “This is what happens when man forgets that he is a human being first.” 


Jallianwala Bhag memorial (Google search image.)


Jallianwala Bhag memorial (Google search image.)

He accompanied his father to various south Indian coastal towns to make salt supporting the Salt-Satyagraha. He had actively participated in the Non-Cooperation movement. He had travelled to Bombay along with his father to hear the Mahatma ask the Britishers to ‘Quit India’. When freedom arrived, Manojavam had listened to the ‘Tryst with destiny’ broadcast by AIR and later joined the festive celebrations of an Independent India. But his heart was broken when his mother was divided into Pakistan and India and later when India was further divided into states. “We fought as one for one reason and now we break apart” he had yelled. 

He had lived through the two world wars. The world wars hurt him deeply. In fact, the second world war had shaken his hope. “What do they want to prove?” he had asked himself. Manojavam belonged to an upper middle-class family and could afford travelling abroad. In 1960 Manojavam along with Manjula travelled to Germany and Poland. They visited the Auschwitz State Museum, which was once the Auschwitz Extermination Camp, where Hitler had killed 1.1 million people with 90% of them being jews. While standing inside the camp with his eyes moist he remembered what his father had said ” This is what happens when man forgets that he is a human being first.”  He had read extensively about how this camp worked and how cruelly innocent people had been killed. As he walked through the place, his imagination supported by what he read brought to his mind vivid scenes of people being brutally killed. He was so much into his imagination that he felt almost choked when he stood inside the gas chamber. 


Auschwitz State Museum (Wikipedia)

In 1965 the couple travelled to Japan. They visited Hiroshima. Standing inside the Genbaku (A-Bomb) Dome, the skeletal remains of the building that survived the atomic bomb, and looking towards the sky Manojavam had remarked “Never again, never ever again”. “The human civilisation must learn from its most heinous act.” he told Manjula who was standing next to him shocked, as a guide presented some facts.


Genbaku (A-Bomb) Dome (Wikipedia)

In 1970 the couple ventured on a North India trip. The last week of the trip was dedicated to the chirpy romance always abundant in the couple when they toured Darjeeling. They finally topped it with the visit to the epitome of love, the ‘Taj-Mahal’.

In 1975 they embarked on a South India trip. “The huge temples of South India are an illustration of how much our magnificent kings loved art” Manojavam mentioned with a lot of pride. Manojavam revered Swami Vivekananda a lot. He meditated on the Vivekananda Rock when they visited Kanyakumari.

After 1980 the couple were too old to plan and travel on their own. Whenever time and age permitted they travelled with the families of their son and daughter. They accompanied them to the US tour. At the insistence of Manojavam the family travelled to Chicago and visited the shore of Lake Michigan, the place where Swami Vivekananda had delivered the world famous speech on the opening session of the Parliament of the World’s religions in 1893. Manojavam had listened to the speech a million times by now and it ran in his mind as he walked around the place. “Sisters and Brothers of America” he murmured many times.


Swami Vivekananda in Chicago (Wikipedia)

Thus he had travelled with the hopes of the country towards freedom and travelled to places he thought would  teach the younger generations a lesson on what they should not let the world become.

As Manjula flipped to the last page of the album, there was this latest photo of the couple taken on the occasion of Manojavam’s 100th birthday. The couple glanced at each other. Their faces were wrinkled but the love in their eyes for each other was still as young as in their first glance after Manjula had accidentally pushed Manojavam into the gutter. They both thought about the moment when they first met and had a hearty laugh. The laughter was interrupted when their six year old great grand daughter Priya arrived. She fondly called him appajja (father of the grandfather). “Appajja, everyone says that you are a good person and they love you so much. How did you become a good person?” she cutely enquired. “Due to the people that have inspired me in my lifetime dear” Manojavam replied…………………………

The story unfolds – Part 4

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You might want to read Part – 1, Part – 2 and Part – 3.


Manojavam took good care of his father in his last few years. Apart from being his father he was also his mentor and above all a true friend. Manojavam, though very grief stricken due to the fact he will lose one of his best friends, was surprised at how his father remained peaceful all the time. From close quarters he had seen his uncles and aunts die too. They looked scared, sometimes acted violently and sometimes behaved just like babies as death neared them. But his dad was very different. His behaviour versus time graph was a straight line parallel to the time axis. Never ever had he seen him swerve from being absolutely normal. What surprised him even more was the fact that he looked more and more peaceful as death neared him. The inner trauma of the voluntarily retired internal organs which had served him sincerely for a long time did not affect his outer persona. Manojavam wanted to ask his father as to how he managed to be so peaceful even after knowing that he is going to die shortly,  but could not muster the required courage.

His father was quick to realise that something is bothering his son.  One day he requested Manojavam to sit beside him. He spoke “Manu, I feel that you are not your normal self. I see a big question mark in your head, but cannot guess what the question is. Please be frank and let me know what it is.”  Manojavam gathered some courage and asked ” Dad are you not scared that you are going to die. How can you be happy and normal? What is it that gives you so much peace?” His father smiled. “Manu, let us say you have no other option but to enter a haunted mansion. But you have two options either enter alone or enter with two of your best friends. Which one will you chose?” he queried. “Obviously I will enter with two of my best friends.” Manojavam replied instantaneously. “In both cases you are still scared of the haunted mansion but with the company of true friends you are willing to face your worst fears a little more calmly, isn’t it?” his father asked. “Yes” said Manojavam. “What do you see me do most of the time Manu?” his father questioned again. “You read books and mostly listen to music.” answered Manojavam. “I am a common man and I am scared of death but the company of these two friends have made me face it peacefully. In fact, when death knocks I want to befriend it too.”  Manojavam realised that dying peacefully is also an art. At that moment he decided that when he died, whenever it may be, he wanted to die peacefully. “But father, there are many genres of music. Which one should I befriend?” he questioned. “That you should pick from experience son. There is a set of natural frequencies preset in you by God or Nature, whichever you believe in.  Each one of them correspond to different moods. A given genre may resonate with the rage in you, another genre may resonate with the emotional in you, but for me, at this stage, I have chosen the genre that resonates with my soul directly.”  his father answered. Manojavam was about to ask “Which one?”, but this time he himself realised the answer. He just switched on the player and MS began singing with utmost devotion. His father closed is eyes and immersed himself in the soulful music. Manojavam too was involuntarily tugged into its deep harmony and lost his way back. He knew what he wanted to listen when death asked for an appointment.

Once when having lunch together, Manojavam had shared this incident with his wife and his four rag-picking boys. That was the reason why they had bought him a MS songs CD as a gift. Once they left the hospital, Manajula switched on the player and MS again began singing with the utmost devotion. Manjula sat next to Manojavam gently stroking his hair. Manojavam closed his eyes and immersed himself in the soulful music. Once the CD ran its length he opened his eyes and asked Manjula to play it again. She did. She also sat next to him and opened his favourite photo-album.  As she flipped the pages of the album, Manojavam was lost in the memories. Naturally he had done a lot of travelling in a lifetime slightly exceeding a century……………………..


I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th – 14th December 2013. I have chosen to narrate a single story in parts and each part would be in response to that days prompt. Hope all of you like it.

The story unfolds – Part 3

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You might want to read Part – 1 and Part – 2 first.


Manojavam wanted to eagerly participate in co-curricular activities when he was a high-school student. Especially, he loved extempore and debating. He did quite well in his mother tongue. But a good vocabulary of english always eluded him. English till then was just a subject that would yield him some marks in the annual examination. He once bravely enlisted his name for an english extempore competition. Then he happily forgot about it and without his knowledge the D-day arrived. As his name was announced, a visibly tensed Manojavam arrived at the stage. The 200 odd student- audience waited expectantly. He wished every one a good morning with a quivering voice. After that he went blank. A minute went by and he could hear chuckles from the audience. A teacher sticking out his neck from behind the screen urged him to speak up. Manojavam knew he had to say something, but what? He babbled for a few minutes and conceded that he could not speak any more. He felt miserable and ran out of the auditorium. His classmates made fun of him later that day. That night he sat alone in his room. His father readily calculated that something was wrong. He went to his room, sat next to him and enquired. By the time Manojavam narrated the events of the day, his father knew what had to be done. He asked Manojavam to go to sleep and be ready by 9:00 am next morning.

Next morning Manojavam was ready by 8:30 am. When he asked his father as to where they were going he smiled and said “to meet man’s best friends.” Little did he know that it was going to be an important day of his life. His father took him to the City Central Library. There he met a host of non-living things that turned out to be his life long friends. He found solace in their company. What was amazing about these non-living things was that they could teach everything about life and the various emotions circulating around it. They could make him smile, laugh and sometimes guffaw. They could make him cry and sometimes bawl. They could sometimes grip him in tension and sometimes feel genuinely for a fictional character. Books changed his life. His father had asked him to carry a notebook and a pencil along with him. He had also asked him to keep a dictionary by his side and note down interesting words and their meanings as he read the books. In a span of three months his vocabulary had improved by leaps and bounds. He was more confident and could express his feelings through words. In the next academic year he won the english debate and also delivered the welcome speech for the school’s annual day event. His friends who had taunted him earlier were shocked at the transformation. Books became his eternal friends.

When he was thirty, Manjula came into his life. He was pleasantly surprised to know that she too had a liking for books. Once they completed reading a book of any genre, they used to discuss about it at length. It gave their relationship a new meaning, a new dimension. They quickly realised that marriage is not just an opportunity to practise licensed sex and a dedicated path for the continuance of the species, but a boding that grew strong due to a lot of other reasons. They both realised what God taught them when one held the handle of the bicycle and the other pedalled and journey went on smoothly. Due to Books they became the best friends. They were able to educate those four rag-picking boys in the right manner. They knew that just passing an exam will not make one educated. Manojavam believed that ‘education should not teach you to pass an exam at the end of the course, but it should teach you to gear up for the exam life offers every second. ‘The purpose of Education is to transform egos into gentlemen’ he would always quote. He always used to tell his grandchildren ” School is only going to give you a ‘passing’ knowledge, pun intended. Go immerse yourself in books, it will never let you down.” Somehow what he said always made sense and the way he said it made it even more sensible. His grandchildren loved him unconditionally. He was their best-friend.

His four rag-pickers had transformed into gentlemen and were good at whatever they pursued. The four were grateful to the couple, for if not for them, they would still be rag-picking. The moment they came to know about Manojavam’s hospitalisation, they rushed to see him. They paid visits every day. The day when he was shifted to the ward from ICU, they decided to present him his favourite novel ‘Anna Karenina’. But the box they presented was very big for a book and it felt hefty too. A surprised Manjula opened the box to find a CD player and M S Subbalakshmi’s ‘Venkatesha Suprabatham’. For the last few decades not a single day had passed by without Manojavam listening to MS in the morning. He loved music………………


I am taking part in The Write Tribe Festival of Words 8th – 14th December 2013. I have chosen to narrate a single story in parts and each part would be in response to that days prompt. Hope all of you like it.