Jawaharlal Nehru, in his “The Discovery of India” calls India as “an ancient palimpsest on which layer upon layer of thought and reverie had been inscribed, and yet no succeeding layer had completely hidden or erased what had been written previously”.

Yes, India is certainly that even today, after 68 years. We are suddenly the new kid on the block and the world is beginning to take notice. Despite that new veneer, we are still, in many ways the ancient India and if you look carefully, many of our antiquity shows through.

Many books and articles in respected magazines have been written on this phenomenon and I do not wish to prolong my readers’ agony.

The point of this post is that I am an Indian and am very much like a palimpsest. This is driven home to me every time that I am confronted with something new in my environment and my old values/beliefs/prejudices etc come to the forefront. Be it a new gadget, a new approach to old problems or a new relationship, the way to tackle the new is conditioned by those not fully erased impressions from the past. Very often I find myself stopping an automatic response, because it is not the appropriate one for the present, but something registered deep inside made that response come to the surface.

Does this happen to my readers I wonder.

India’s New Emblem.

This is our current emblem, The Ashoka Pillar.

I am blessed with a delightful nephew who suggests that we replace it with this one.

His logic is impeccable.

“.changing our emblem from The Ashoka Pillar to a Condom more accurately reflects our government’s political stance -Condom allows for Inflation, halts production, destroys the next generation, protects a bunch of dicks and gives you a sense of security while you are actually being screwed…”


The Late Rummuser

He Laughed All The Way

To His Death.


That is the obituary that I hope my son will put in the papers when I go.

This is not quite what gaelikaa had in mind when she suggested this topic for the weekly Loose Bloggers Consortium where some of us post on the same topic every Friday.  I suspect that this is what she had in mind.

I can’t for the world of it, ever be that caricature.  It is simply not in me.  That, despite being an Indian notorious for our tardiness.  I was brainwashed by a number of well meaning people to be very un-Indian when it came to punctuality.

I have nothing more to say.

Zavaray Poonawalla.

I have received this mail from a friend and I reproduce it without comment. Poonawalla means someone from Poona. Poona is the old English name for Pune, which is my home town too.

This incident is not fiction, but a true and real one. It is about Mr Zavaray Poonawala who is a well-known industrialist of Pune. He had this driver named Gangadatta with him for the last 30 years driving his limousine.

Gangadatta passed away recently and at that time Mr Poonawala was in Mumbai for some important work. As soon as he heard the news he canceled all his meetings, requested the driver’s family to await him for the cremation and came back immediately by a helicopter.

On reaching Poona he asked the limo to be decorated with flowers as he wished that Gangadatta should be taken in the same car which he had driven since the beginning. When Gangadatta’s family agreed to his wishes, Mr. Poonawalla himself drove Gangadatta from his home up to the crematorium, on his last journey.

When asked in an interview, Mr Poonawalla was very sorrowful and replied that Gangadatta had served him day and night and he could at least do this, being eternally grateful to him. He further added that Gangadatta rose up from poverty and educated both his children very well. His daughter is a Chartered accountant and that is so commendable.

His comment at the end is the essence of a successful life in all aspects – “All earn money. Nothing unusual in that, but we should always be grateful to all those people who contribute for our success. This is the culture in which we have been brought up, which made me do what I did.”

Don’t you think that it is a superb example of humanity?

Someone has so rightly said that-
Life is like a sea..
We are moving about without end..
Nothing remains with us..
What remains are just..
The memories of some people..
Who touched our lives as waves…