Agony Uncle II.

As I write this, there is already a third post on the drawing board with further correspondence.  I think that it will be prudent for me to respond to all comments after the entire exchange of mails comes to a stop and I stop blogging them.  I request my commentators to bear with me till then.

Continued from:

I Am Now An Agony Uncle.

I have responded as:

Dear Mr. Tookay,

The pleasure was equally mine.  I enjoyed the challenge!

I am a strong believer in the dictum that there is no problem in the world that cannot be solved with a healthy dose of humour.  So much so that I am often considered to be flippant by serious people.

Human beings are remarkably adaptable.  They adjust.  I am sure that you will have in your circle of friends and relatives, widows and widowers who have learnt to live without their spouses.  Of course, there will be cases where that will be considered as a great relief too!  More difficult is for parents to lose children, but they learn with time. That is why the adage, “Time Heals.”

I learnt to be a house-husband when my late wife was felled by cerebral and cardiac infarcts.  I was her primary caretaker for eight years before she died.  I learnt to cook properly then and it is like riding a bicycle.  Once you learn the basics, you simply can manage to ride without holding the handlebars.  I am blessed to have my son and daughter in law living with me and also helped by two very loyal help, one handyman / gardener and a housemaid who have been with us for 25 years and 15 years respectively.  The other housemaid before the current one has become an entrepreneur with our blessings and is now more of a family friend.

I intend calling you Mr. Tookay!

You flatter me again and I thank you.  I hope that you will keep visiting my blog and encouraging me.  Thank you once again and regards to you too.


After that mail went out, I came across something else, which I forwarded to him:

Dear Mr. Tookay,

I am sorry that I could not find this story when I was writing the reply to your second mail, where you expressed your inability to cook.


One winter, two young boys were playing on a lake that had frozen over.
As they played, the ice suddenly cracked and one of the boys fell through the ice into the lake underneath. He thrashed about, wedged in a crevice beneath the surface. Try as he might, the other boy couldn’t reach his friend through the gap.

He looked around frantically, and spotted a tree several feet away. Racing to it, he tore off a large branch and dragged it back to the gap in the ice. Using the branch, he pounded the ice around till it cracked and the gap widened, allowing him to reach down and pull his friend out.

When the paramedics came and they were able to revive the child, they were baffled. How could this young boy have broken off such an enormous branch with his frozen hands, carried it all the way to the gap and used it to crack the ice to save his friend? The boy was slight of build, and the branch was heavy. It was impossible.

An old man who had been watching from the sidelines glanced at the boy with gentle eyes. “I can tell you how he did it.”

“How?” they asked.” How did he do it?”

The old man said, “There was no one here to tell him that he couldn’t.”



He responded to The Boy On The Ice Story:

Got it Sir. Thanks for sharing.  Planning to upgrade my lousy cooking skills.

 This promises to be the beginning of a new friendship.  Let us see how it progresses.