Heartfelt Condolences

Mr IJN Patrick's is the son of Mr Irudayasamy, and his children are heavy hearted.

Indoor and outdoor ( உள்ளே வெளியே )

The Project ***

The old man worked feverishly, a cigarette dangling at the tip of his lips. I watched him as he shovelled the small stones and sand, making a small hill. Then he emptied the bag of cement over it, and shoveled and mixed, making a crater on the hill. Then he added some water from a bucket, and mixed it again. Turning it over with his shovel. The grating sound was irritating, but the dangling cigarette was so captivating that I continued to watch. Then the other man came along with the wheelbarrow. Together, they carted the concrete over to the construction area. They spoke little, but they knew exactly what to do.

Soon they stopped work for the day, had a quick wash and left. I left too. I had to find two tins. And a rod.

It was soon dark. I looked around. The coast was clear. I brought the two medium sized tins. I filled both with a mixture of stones and sand. This I carried to the secluded area behind the wall, emptying them on the small flat concrete area. I went back a second trip for the cement. And again for the water. I mixed everything. I used a trowel to mix the ingredients, and once satisfied, filled the two tins with the concrete. I was soaked in sweat, and my legs and feet were grey with sand and concrete. I still had to find the rod. I quickly went over to the bathroom area at the end of the wall, washed up and started looking for a rod. And then I saw it. A wooden stick. It was round and smooth, and at least 4 feet long. It looked sturdy enough. It would do.

I tilted the two tins on their side, praying that the contents would not slide out. It did not. The concrete mixture was quite firm. Juxtaposing the two tins opposite each other, I carefully inserted the rod into each. Some of the concrete fell out, and I plastered it back with the trowel. I stood back. It looked good. Covering the whole arrangements with some fallen leaves and debris, I left.

***
It had been 3 days now. Every morning I would arrive anxiously. I would test the hardness of the concrete. I would stand, admiring the beautiful object. And after a while, I would cover it, and leave. It was a daily ritual.

I was sure the concrete had hardened sufficiently. I gripped the wooden rod delicately with both my hands. I carefully measured the distance, making sure I was gripping at the exact center. Balance was important. And heaving a sigh, I lifted. It was not heavy. But the moment the tins left the ground, “Crack.” The rod broke, and the tins fell with a sickening thud to the ground.

I looked down at the scene of the disaster. My home-made dumbbells lay in pieces.

తెలేగులు పోస్టు

వ్హట్లు డ్రైవ్సు మీ తూ దఓ స్తిపిడు తిన్గ్సు లిక్ఉ థిస్? వరఇటింగ్ అ పఒస్తు ఇన్ తేలేగులు? ఐత ఇస్ అ బిట్ అఫ్ క్రాజినేస్స్ తట్ ఇస్ ఇన్ అల్ ఆఫ్ అస్ ఐ గుఎస్స్ .... ఇట్ గివెస్ అస్ అ మైల్డ్ ప్లఎఅసుర్ఎ తఓ బె చరాజ్వై ఒంసే ఇన్ అ వ్హిలె. వఎల్.... అస్ లాంగ్ అస్ ఇట్ ఇస్ నాట్ అ గరోవిన్గ్ త్రెండ్లు... తెలేగులు పోస్టు

The Mission ***

It was pitch dark. I moved stealthily along the shadows of the tall wall. As I crouched behind a pillar, I could see the slight figure, shirtless, sitting on the platform. A light cool breeze blew from the neem tree. I waited patiently. Anytime now. And soon, as expected, he got up, patting his protruding tummy. He belched loudly, as he moved towards the building at the far end of the compound.

As he entered the building, I silently scrambled, reaching the back of the building in several agile leaps. I quickly surveyed the scene, climbing onto the iron pipe and peering over the sills of the tiny square windows. Yes. I could see the top of his head.

As I stood, waiting for the right moment, the man grunted. A soft plop. Holding my breath, I gingerly reached through the window. Heart beating furiously, I surveyed the escape route.

Then, in a swift movement, I grabbed the chain and tugged. A terrific whoosh, and a moment when time stood still. I leaped down and ran. Just then he let loose a blood curdling cry, 'Dey, yarra athu. Badava raskol.' I was soon at the gate. Safe. Mission accomplished.

Advice ***

The boy looked up balefully, spittle dripping from his mouth. He looked drained. The attacks always sapped him. Saroja held him tight. She was used to the experience. Her only son Mohan had been suffering the sporadic epileptic attacks since he was a toddler - for the past 8 years. But it was always more traumatic when it happened in public. People were often shocked. Generally they stayed away, repulsed by the hysterical spasms, and nauseating foaming and vomit.

Mohan was calm now. He looked relaxed as he lay, eyes half closed, leaning against his mother.

The middle aged lady, who had been watching from a safe distance now approached Saroja cautiously.

'What happened? Is he ok?'

'Yes he's fine now. He is epileptic. He has been having these attacks ever since he was a baby.' Saroja explained patiently.

'Have you taken him to see a doctor? You should get him checked at a hospital.'
Saroja looked at the woman wearily.

Nogo to Yahgo ****

The king of Nogo had a good life. He and his innumerable wives, children and assorted hangers-on enjoyed the pinnacle of luxury. At the expense of his acutely impoverished people. The common folk ate tapioca. And kuna fish. Everyday. They languished in abject poverty. Many died of hunger. Or disease. They had no facilities to speak of. They just existed. Until they died.

This situation continued for generations. Nobody thought things would change. Until Taruna appeared. Inspired by Karl Marx and the Russian Communists, he dreamt of change. He hatched a plot. With a small band of hardcore followers, he hit when the king least expected it. And soon, Nogo had a communist government. Basic facilities were built for the people. Hospitals, schools. A collective farm. Some factories to process tapioca and kuna fish. Things worked, albeit slowly. People were happy to receive some Government help. But the economy was a shambles. Inefficiency pervaded everything. Stores with bare shelves were everywhere. And soon, power corrupted, as always. Once Taruna passed on, internal strife tore the Government apart. Soon things were almost back to the days of the king. Except that the upper echelon Communist cadres had replaced the Royal family. Life was a struggle again for the common Nogoan..

Emerile was an intense young man. He watched as his father and others fished in the coastal waters of Nogo. But he was not content with the kuna. He had huge ambitions. He built support among the disgruntled youths. He stoked their fire with glorious dreams. “We can be great too. With the right vision. And decisive leadership. We can create wealth for our people.” His charisma was infectious. One day, he struck. The remaining communists were bundled into jail. Emerile’s oratory captured the people’s imagination. The weary people of Nogo rooted for him. He called for elections. The first on Nogo. And he won hands down. He was now President of Nogo.

His first act was to change the name of the country. He renamed it Yahgo.

Emerile launched mega projects. A new jetty, to receive large cruise ships from neighbouring countries. A yacht pier. A golf course. Luxury holiday homes. A round island highway. He promoted the processing and export of the national staple : tapioca and kuna fish.

But there was grumbling everywhere. “Why is he neglecting the basic needs of the people and pandering to the rich foreigners? We need food, not golf courses and yachts. He is even selling our tapioca and kuna to the foreigners !” But Emerile persisted.

Soon, the rich tourists came. In droves, spending their hard dollars on everything Yahgo had to offer. They loved tapioca and kuna fish. What had been the poor man’s meal had become international haute cuisine. The money quickly trickled down to the people. Almost everyone was receiving the largesse. The country was booming. People were beginning to enjoy the good life. Emerile’s strategy had worked. Yahgoans had arrived.

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow ****

Today is the tomorrow I worried about yesterday
And today was such a lovely day, that I wondered why I worried about today yesterday.
So today I am not going to worry about tomorrow.
There may not be a tomorrow anyway.
So today I am going to live as if there is no tomorrow
And I am going to forget about yesterday.
Today is the tomorrow I planned for yesterday.
And nearly all my plans for today did not plan out the way I thought they would yesterday.
So today I am forgetting about tomorrow and I will plan for today.
But not too strenuously.
Today I will stop to smell a rose.
I will tell a loved one how much I love her.
I will stop planning for tomorrow and plan to make today the best day of my life.
Today is the tomorrow I was afraid of yesterday
And today was nothing to be afraid of.
So today I will banish fear of the unknown .
I will embrace the unknown as a learning experience full of exciting opportunities.
Today, unlike yesterday I will not fear tomorrow.
Today is the tomorrow I dreamed about yesterday.
And some of the dreams dreamt about yesterday came true today.
So today I am going to continue dreaming about tomorrow
And perhaps more of the dreams I dream today will come true tomorrow.
Today is the tomorrow I set goals for yesterday
And I reached some of those goals today.
So today I am going to set slightly higher goals for today and tomorrow.
And if tomorrow turns out to be like today I will certainly reach all of my goals one day!
Don't worry about what's ahead. Just go as far as you can go.
From there, you can see farther.
- (Anon)

Sorry ***

The Government of Indonesia planned several activities to celebrate its first 100 days in office. So they test fired a rocket, aiming it at a prawn farm. The rocket hit a house, seriously injuring an elderly couple. The woman’s leg had to be amputated, while the man is in hospital with severe burns. The spokesman for the State Ministry of Research and Technology said, “We are still investigating why the mistake occurred. It could be because of strong wind at the time of launch. Compensation has been offered to the victims. This reflects that we are deeply sorry.”

I am sure the couple are even more sorry.