The Well Of Our Being.

This week’s LBC topic comes to us courtesy Lin.

Let me at the outset confess that I am at a loss to understand the meaning of the topic.  I have heard of and understand ‘well being’ but ‘well of our being’ beats me.  Google research lead me to a book which confused me even more.

After some discussions with friends who are more familiar with British and American idiom, I was able to understand that it simply means our inner resources that enable us to live whichever way we want to.

On the assumption that my understanding is right, the well of my being is an ability to be a witness to all that happens to and around me without getting tangled up.  And let me confess, it is still a work in progress.

sitting quietly

Scars.

It’s a shallow life that doesn’t give a person a few scars.

~ Garrison Keillor,

By that definition, I have had a very deep life indeed. This post has been inspired by my daughter in law Manjiree noticing some scars on my head and arm asking me about how I acquired them. I recalled some to the best of my ability but some, I just could not. I did tell her about the others elsewhere on my body under clothing including the very big ones on both my hips, the result of surgery for hip replacements and revisions.

A misspent youth is one explanation but another more interesting one that buttresses the quote from Keillor, is what my friend Nisha came up with on a post on her Facebook wall.
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Family Occasions.

Family-Reunion

This week’s LBC topic has been suggested by Maria the gaelikaa who has been preoccupied with family problems and is currently away at Ireland for some family occasions there.  It is therefore unlikely that she will write any time soon for the LBC.

That should not stop some of the others from keeping on at it as Shackman, Lin and I have been regularly doing in the recent past.

I am blessed.  My family only occasionally has occasions.  On the other hand, we have regular events like weddings to attend where everyone meets everyone and comments on how everyone is and also complains about everything under the sun.

I am also blessed that I live far away from where the bulk of my relatives live and so have distance as a very valid excuse not to attend functions.  The last one I attended was last year when I went down South to celebrate my brother in law’s 75th birthday.  My niece had threatened me with dire consequences if I was not present and so I went.  I was very pleasantly surprised that I had such a grand time!

There was another occasion just two months ago with a cousin celebrating his wife’s landmark birthday, again back in the South.  I did not go.  I am on the blacklist of that side of the family.  I however hope to get off that list because of my age which I use to justify my eccentricity.

 

Indian Roads.

Commenting on my blog post Driving Licence, Big John said –

“In the UK we old farts do not have to pass a medical or any other test. Just fill in a form on line, tick the right boxes and the authorities take your word for it that you are fit to drive for another 3 years. Un-bloody-believable !
BTW … From what I have seen of Indian drivers (on TV) I’m surprised anyone in your country has ever passed any sort of driving test … :-)”

I responded – “You can say that again. Even those with valid driving licences nowadays are unlikely to have passed a test!”

I am sure that Big John will enjoy this cartoon.
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I am sorry Big John, I could not edit the American spelling.

Mumbai, My Mumbai.

I was born in Mumbai when it was known as Bombay and other than Pune, I have spent the maximum number of years as an adult in that wonderful city.  I have family and innumerable friends there who have been part of my life from the sixties of the last century.  If only the traffic there can become about half of what it is, I would happily return there to live again among those lovely people.

Yesterday I heard a story from a very dear friend which brought back so many memories of the kind of city that it is and I want to share it with my readers.

My friend is from out of our state and had to fly in and out of Mumbai on the odd occasion to attend weddings etc.  His younger brother had been in all kinds of troubles and leading a nomadic life and has now got into a home for the aged being looked after by strangers because he is ill with his memory totally gone.  His two children are in Australia and New Zealand and had come to arrange for a passport for him so that they can take him with them and requested help from my friend as they were afraid of handling the bureaucrats in India.

My friend simply shared the story with the Passport Officer who thought for a while, waived some formalities and said that the passport will be issued if the police verification report can be speeded up.  My friend went to the police station where the home is located and the official there too was very helpful but said that the home would come under the jurisdiction of the neighbouring area’s police station and guided my friend there.  My friend on reaching there was pleasantly surprised to be met the officer in charge who was awaiting him.  All cooperation was extended and the formalities completed in no time and now the passport is on its way to my friend’s brother’s home.

The children will come again to escort the father to Australia where a home has been found for him and so hopefully a stressful situation faced by my friend will now resolve itself.

The point made by my friend coming as he does from a different city however, is that both at the Passport Office and the two police stations, the officials concerned were humane, efficient and did what was expected of them without any fuss or expectation of quid pro quo.

I have had similar experiences in Mumbai both at the passport office and at three police stations during my various stays and can vouch for the character of the people involved in these places to be proud of.