Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Buddha Lesson For Me
I think I am turning into a borderline Facebook addict. Well, it’s just me. Sitting on the fence is an old habit. Can be pushed either way, but will take my sweet Mother Mary time and thankfully I am not yet a total addict. Anyway, I seem to find a lot of gems on the networking site and this is one such. Thanks to friends and acquaintances I am able to share words of wisdom. This is a beautiful story and really hits the home run especially for an impulsive person like me. Lucky me, I have my own Buddhas in my life who keep me grounded and calm.
Once Buddha was travelling with a few of his followers. While they were passing a lake, Buddha told one of his disciples, "I am thirsty. Do get me some water from the lake."
The disciple walked up to the lake. At that moment, a bullock cart started crossing through the lake. As a result, the water became very muddy and turbid. The disciple thought, "How can I give this muddy water to Buddha to drink?"
So he came back and told Buddha, "The water in there is very muddy. I don't think it is fit to drink."
After about half an hour, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back to the lake.
The disciple went back, and found that the water was still muddy. He returned and informed Buddha about the same.
After sometime, again Buddha asked the same disciple to go back.
This time, the disciple found the mud had settled down, and the water was clean and clear. So he collected some water in a pot and brought it to Buddha.
Buddha looked at the water, and then he looked up at the disciple and said," See what you did to make the water clean. You let it be, and the mud settled down on its own -- and you have clear water.
Your mind is like that too ! When it is disturbed, just let it be. Give it a little time. It will settle down on its own. You don't have to put in any effort to calm it down. It will happen. It is effortless." Having 'Peace of Mind' is not a strenuous job; it is an effortless process!
Picture Courtesy: Google images (600 × 446 - Budha Painting - Budha Fine Art Print. Budha Painting by Pc fineartamerica.com)
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Children Have Rules Too....For Us
It was the Parent Teacher Meeting at Tamanna’s school. When she turned two and a half, she followed big sister Aarzoo into the portals of Little Feat Montessori. Insha-Allah, she should be there till it is time for her to move to Grade I.
I met her Teacher, Ms. Paromita, who has nothing but praise for her wards. And when one has had both sisters under one’s wing as a teacher, comparisons are bound to arise, much as Ms. Paromita hates it. Heretofore, she always maintained that the two girls were very different in temperament and attitude. But this time, her report was entirely the opposite.
“Tamanna, is so like Aarzoo!! It’s not funny,” she exclaimed. “Remember, how Aarzoo used to be such a perfectionist and had to cross her t’s and dot her i’s?” I nodded, recollecting the times when I had gone to fetch Aarzoo from school and was made to wait because she had not completed her work to her satisfaction and insisted on doing so.
“Tamanna is just the same. I am amazed,” said Ms. Paromita.
“Well, don’t blame me”, I replied. “It’s their Bengali genes that are responsible. They get it from their father. Next time Parag is in town, I will send him to school and you can give him a piece of your mind”.
“I am guilty of that too”, said Ms. Paromita, who is a Bengali herself, laughing.
We had a good laugh.
“I am very laid back, I assure you,” I said and was pleasantly surprised at the work that the brat had churned out that term. Owe it big time to her teacher and her school.
Waiting to meet Ms. Munira Akhtar, the Principal, I came across this eye-opener message on the notice board.
Unspoken Words From The Heart Of A Child
My hands are small; please don’t expect perfection whenever I make a bed, draw a picture or throw a ball
My legs are short; please slow down so that I can keep up with you
My eyes have not seen the world as yours have; please let me explore safely. Don’t restrict me unnecessarily.
Housework will always be there. I am only little for a short time, please take time to explain things to me about this wonderful world and do so willingly.
My feelings are tender; please be sensitive to my needs. Don’t nag me all day long. (You wouldn’t want to be nagged for your inquisitiveness – would you?) Treat me as you would like to be treated
I am a special gift from God; please treasure me as God intended you to do, holding me accountable for my actions, giving me guideline to live by and disciplining me in a loving manner.
I need your encouragement to grow. Please go easy on the criticism; remember you can criticize the things I do, without criticizing me
Please give me the freedom to make decisions concerning myself. Permit me to fail, so that I can learn from my mistakes. Then someday I will be prepared to make the kinds of decisions that life requires of me.
Please don’t do things over for me. Somehow that makes me feel that my efforts didn’t quite measure up to your expectations. I know it’s hard but please don’t try to compare me to my brother or sister.
I realized then how important it was to keep going back to school. Those walls are teachers of the immortal kind!
I met her Teacher, Ms. Paromita, who has nothing but praise for her wards. And when one has had both sisters under one’s wing as a teacher, comparisons are bound to arise, much as Ms. Paromita hates it. Heretofore, she always maintained that the two girls were very different in temperament and attitude. But this time, her report was entirely the opposite.
“Tamanna, is so like Aarzoo!! It’s not funny,” she exclaimed. “Remember, how Aarzoo used to be such a perfectionist and had to cross her t’s and dot her i’s?” I nodded, recollecting the times when I had gone to fetch Aarzoo from school and was made to wait because she had not completed her work to her satisfaction and insisted on doing so.
“Tamanna is just the same. I am amazed,” said Ms. Paromita.
“Well, don’t blame me”, I replied. “It’s their Bengali genes that are responsible. They get it from their father. Next time Parag is in town, I will send him to school and you can give him a piece of your mind”.
“I am guilty of that too”, said Ms. Paromita, who is a Bengali herself, laughing.
We had a good laugh.
“I am very laid back, I assure you,” I said and was pleasantly surprised at the work that the brat had churned out that term. Owe it big time to her teacher and her school.
Waiting to meet Ms. Munira Akhtar, the Principal, I came across this eye-opener message on the notice board.
Unspoken Words From The Heart Of A Child
My hands are small; please don’t expect perfection whenever I make a bed, draw a picture or throw a ball
My legs are short; please slow down so that I can keep up with you
My eyes have not seen the world as yours have; please let me explore safely. Don’t restrict me unnecessarily.
Housework will always be there. I am only little for a short time, please take time to explain things to me about this wonderful world and do so willingly.
My feelings are tender; please be sensitive to my needs. Don’t nag me all day long. (You wouldn’t want to be nagged for your inquisitiveness – would you?) Treat me as you would like to be treated
I am a special gift from God; please treasure me as God intended you to do, holding me accountable for my actions, giving me guideline to live by and disciplining me in a loving manner.
I need your encouragement to grow. Please go easy on the criticism; remember you can criticize the things I do, without criticizing me
Please give me the freedom to make decisions concerning myself. Permit me to fail, so that I can learn from my mistakes. Then someday I will be prepared to make the kinds of decisions that life requires of me.
Please don’t do things over for me. Somehow that makes me feel that my efforts didn’t quite measure up to your expectations. I know it’s hard but please don’t try to compare me to my brother or sister.
I realized then how important it was to keep going back to school. Those walls are teachers of the immortal kind!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Mommy's Boyfriend
It was evening and I was ready to go over to Kavita’s for a hot cup of chai and some chill out time. And loads of laughter of course. Inevitable when two mad hatters catch up, considering a full 48 hours had gone by without meeting up.
I go upto Devamma, my angel housekeeper, to tell her of my plans and this is how the scripts played out eventually. Enjoy
Me (tongue firmly in cheek): Devamma, today I am not going to meet my boyfriend but am going to call on my girlfriend instead.
Devamma (Giggling away and blushing): How many chappatis should I make? And (pointing to the casseroles) is this enough or do you want me to cook something else?
Me: Hmmm.....this is enough. Make about 16 chappatis. And come early tomorrow.
Devamma (laughing): You have a boyfriend??!! Who is he? What is his name?
Me (trying hard to keep from laughing): Well I am not about to tell you. What if you two meet and he falls for you and ditches me!!
Devamma (blushing beet): Haiyoooooo!!! What are you saying?!!
Me: But of course Devamma. Look at you. You are very pretty.
Devamma: You are mad. You have lost it completely. Please go and let me get on with my work.
(Both of us burst out laughing)
A little voice rises with insistence and we turn around to see Tamanna (my three year old) standing there
Tamanna(like a stuck record): Mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy
Me (irritably): What is it, Tamanna? I have to go now.
Tamanna: Mummy, Mummies don’t have boyfriends!!
Silence into what sistah girl Tulsi would term a “bowtie” moment.......before we are in splits again
P.S: Ranjit Menon, this is for you. You urged me to write again. And, the little critter needs to know Mommies can have boyfriends too, no matter that the definition has to be tweaked around a bit!! Big hug......of the grizzly kind.
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