A race lost-A lesson gained

The 200 meters race was on. The child who was leading the rest of the field by more than two lengths thought the race was over when he reached the finish line. However, the rules said that he had to cross the line. As he stopped, three others who were clearly behind him, went ahead and crossed the line to “win.”

Training

He had been training for this race for a some time now. A third grade student who was even taken for a 2 kilometer run to Aksa beach to build his stamina by his father. The 8 year boy, easily defeated his 40 year father in the 2 kilometer beach run.

“You are getting old” a friend told his father as he proudly told of how he had lost to his 8 year son.

Lessons

Do not give up! One has to keep competing and trying till the last ball and last minute.

Life is not always fair! This is a small race. In life, you will in future face many situations where systems, positions, contacts will decide things over merit-hard work.

This is the way the world is made. So one has to be prepared for disappointments and keep working quietly, keep trying.

Life is a process, just one thing after another. When you lose it, just start again.

Sahil practicing at Aksa beach..Run with the spirits of the great runners of Africa, I told him that evening..

Sahil practicing at Aksa beach..Run with the spirits of the great runners of Africa, I told him that evening..

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Rain Drop Moments

Went in the afternoon to check the PO Box at Shara Maghrief

It was raining and the puddles reflected the trees.

Remembered old rain-drop moments….Musings at Ancient Roman city-Sabratha-Facing the Mediterranean.

Of Pune when we used to go for morning walks to LullaNagar

Of the Gardens in the rain-Lodhi in Delhi, Barrakka in Valletta..Landour Mussoorie..

I once spent some lovely moments sitting on the ramparts of Amer Fort of Jaipur, India..the rains and the smell of wet mud..the moist breeze..made it all the more memorable.

The Hill-tops of Mansa Devi Haridwar where I would climb before dawn and wait

For the sun to rise ..The Magic moments when night turns into day.

The Treks beyond Laxman Jhula in Rishikesh, Lal-Tibba in Landour Mussoorie

The Ruskin Bond Trails-It is a pilgrimage to go there..Jesus died for our sins…I saw this cross at Landour..in the Himalayas

Sat for a while at the garden in Shara Baladiya…of Tripoli

And felt…some rain drops fall.

Mussoorie-India..Rain in the Mountains

Mussoorie-India..Rain in the Mountains March 2003

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Letters

A letter workshop. Last Friday, we sat and read out some old letters.

A card from Malta-Dec 1993

“It was a cold rainy night, as I walked up the slope of Ballutta, feeling a bit hungry”

“She took out my coat and said-How beautiful you are!”

We had a Vodka first and then a nice sandwich.

The warm restaurant was in sharp contrast to the cold windy rainy exteriors.

Afterwards she told me that she will follow me to my hotel.

Next day, they helped me open my bank account.

And so started a friendship which has lasted over two decades and generations.

Here is a Christmas card, sent in 1993.

Missed you in my wedding-Oct 1989

“Father and mother were dancing on my wedding” wrote the eldest daughter, who was finally married.

“They had given up, after the three younger ones had got married.”

She miscarried her first pregnancy, but her daughter was born within a year of marriage and she will be eighteen tomorrow.

11 people who were present in her wedding are no more. Father died in 97, mother in 98, brothers died young.

“Your mother misses you a lot, and keeps telling to come back and take a job near home,” her sister wrote about her wedding and family.

The cycle of life goes on.

Think of 19 years before 1989, when you yourself were 18, just as your niece will be tomorrow. How many people of 1970 were alive in 1989.

There are different phases of life, and with age, different issues come up. A teenager, a young adult, the issue of education of children, the marriage and settlements, diseases..

From a friend-1997

For three years after returning, I was alright. Then they diagnosed a tumor.

We used to have a reunion every year, in different cities. And most of the expatriate workers who found their way back to their country were having some difficulties in adjusting.

Nice to hear from you after over a decade. We worked together in Central till 1987. Then she went back. She wrote this letter in 1997, after a gap of ten years.

Now the tumor has spread.Not much time left..

“She was fine when she left this place” they reflected on the times when they would sit and have coffee together after their shift in Central and the impromptu parties which they would have in Pasaoti-the residential complex for expatriate medical workers.

Release the salary-1982

For a brief period I worked in Khadra Trauma centre till our Central Trauma setup was made. I had come here in 1981 through the Pristina protocol.

As I followed the whole batch to Central, the Khadra finance withheld my salary of two months.

Here is a letter written in 1982 requesting the release of the pending salary.

***

Letters. Humans are the same everywhere. The human condition is bounded by the fetters of machines, systems, big-schemes where the Human being and Humanity is many a time forgotten and lost.

Messages of the relations, issues, life and times gone by. Preparations for coming times.

When did you last write a heart-felt letter?

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