Mike’s post of the same title inspired this post from me. Please read the comments from me and Mike’s response to it too.
Just a day after that I received this in a WhatsApp message from my sister.
Yesterday afternoon, I received news that my friend, philosopher and guide of many years HI died following a failed chemotherapy session for cancer.
Last week was news of the death of a classmate and dear friend.
On the 10th inst, Nick wrote about biographies and autobiographies. I commented there : “I am not and never was into bio/autobiographies. Somehow, I just could not get interested in that genre. My own kind of biography is perhaps my blog just like yours is yours.” Nick responded with “Yes, blogs are very much a form of biography. Not at all chronological, but revealing all sorts of personal details.”
Little did I know that I was about to read an autobiography, and what a one!
Later yesterday, I received a forward of a video of a Cardiologist talking about life and death and how to manage our lives where he referred to a book called When Breath Becomes Air. I got a Kindle version and started reading it and just could not put it down.
Most of my readers here are senior citizens and quite a few are avid readers. For these, I strongly recommend this book. The most poignant and elegant book that I have ever read about a person’s last days written by himself.
The door bell rang during my siesta earlier this afternoon, and there was a courier with a small parcel for me. He was cheerful and polite and greeted me properly, apologised for waking me up, and wished me a good day before he left.
The parcel was a paste used in some of our cooking and I kept it aside to take it to the kitchen later.
As is my daily routine, I had turned off the ringer of my mobile phone while I was asleep in the afternoon. On waking up and turning it on I found some missed calls and ignored them as the numbers were unfamiliar.
When I returned to the phone, I found as SMS alert and found a message from one of the missed call numbers saying that the number belonged to the supplier of the paste. I wondered why they would call me and rang them up only to find that the number belonged to the courier lad who had sent the message to me to identify himself as I was not answering the phone call from him to find directions to reach my home. He confirmed that he eventually asked around and found the address and had already delivered the parcel. All very cheerfully conveyed and with great humour.
I then went back to the paste only to find that there was no instructions on how to use it and so had to send an email to the manufacturer to obtain the same. Till the instructions come, the paste will have to wait. Sad. I was looking forward to using it straight away.
The redeeming feature of the whole incident was the cheerful courier person. I wish that all the courier companies would recruit/train their employees to be like that lad.
A person from London is called a Londoner, from New York a New Yorker, from Glasgow, a Glaswegian and so on. In India, one from Mumbai will be called a Mumbaikar, from Delhi, a Delhiwala, and so on. I live in a city in Maharashtra in India called Pune. A resident will be called Punekar.
That preamble was to introduce you to a new word that I learnt today.
It is defined as “a person having the habit of giving opinions and advice on matters outside of his knowledge or competence.”
Instead of that tongue twister, Maharashtrians, that is, people who live in Maharashtra, India, will simply call a person of that nature a Punekar.
For my readers, I think that I am an exception that proves the rule. What do you think?
I know that the number 13 is considered to be unlucky for many and also know that the fear of the number has a name. I however find it extremely difficult to remember the tongue-twister triskaidekaphobia and have to google for it at need.
Another WhatsApp forward came to remind me of it. Please click on the image for a larger resolution.
Lucky, unlucky or whatever, I have experienced a personal loss on a double so called bad luck day. A Friday the thirteenth. Despite that I would not mind staying in a room number 13 on the 13th floor of a hotel. How about you?