Story Time

This is one of those stories that my grandmother told my mother and it passed on to me. It made me realize my worth as a human being or a girl – new age girl that is! This story is an epitome of building self esteem and discovering the “you”!

There was once a cobra named “Heera”. Amongst the entire breed of snakes, Heera was the bravest, fine looking, and handsomest of all. The other cobras envied him for the female cobras lured Heera and wanted him to be with him. He was the prince charming of the cobra clan. Every evening Heera used to hang around with his friends in the fine burrows of the City. He was the gentlest, sensitive, non-violent and humble of all the snakes. His friends mocked and teased him by saying “our heera is a ravishing vegetarian rat” and then they would all laugh about it. He loved the company of his friends, Heera used to laugh with them and pull each other’s leg. Every evening Heera used to enjoy the weather in the city and chat with his friends and then return home late. Heera’s father was a stringent cobra and wanted him to be home till midnight.
Days passed and Heera enjoyed his bachelorhood, checking out other attractive female cobras with his friends, munching, chatting merrily and returning home by mid-night. Months passed now but Heera’s confidence loosened day by day. His friends asked him for his everlasting awful mood and the reason behind his gloominess, but he never told them anything.

Heera’s condition worsened after a few days, his family thought he wasn’t well but the reason could not be found. Meanwhile every day Heera was injured and his wounds were really deep with bleeding scars, cuts and wounds. His friends and family were worried by seeing the abrasions on Heera’s fine body. He never told anybody anything and always came up with some justification or the other by changing the topic of discussion.

One day, Heera was so hurt that he was on the verge of death. His mother swore on him and asked him the reason. Heera started crying like a baby. He couldn't speak. After his mother wrapped him in her arms and asked him the reason again, Heera with tears in his eyes said -“Mumma, I have been the most non violent, gentle and humble snakes in my life. I haven’t caused anybody any harm ever. I care for everybody’s feelings and I do nothing wrong. I care for everybody’s feelings, and have always done the “Right” thing throughout my life. Then why each time when I cross the road the human beings on the road start shouting “”SNAKE SNAKE” and start hitting me with stones? I have no intentions of biting anybody ever then why do they hit me daily? I thought I could talk to them and sort matters out but the moment they look at me they start throwing stones at me till I bleed and act dead. Is being a snake a curse? Am I so bad that people hate me and hit me brutally? But I promise Mom that I have been always at my best behavior and I have not harmed or attacked anybody ever so why do they injure me every day? I pray every night to God saying if I am so worthless, dear God, why did you make me a snake?”

Mummy smiled and answered, she wasn’t worried anymore and knew how to handle poor Heera’s problem. She said- My son, we are the most vicious of all the species. It’s just that human beings are scared of us and they feel insecure that we may bite them. As a practice to self defense they throw stones at us. God has given us fangs for the same purpose. If we let somebody bully us – he will bully us! But if we show them that we are strong enough not to be bullied or taken advantage of then we respect ourselves. Power and Strength are to be used in the most righteous ways. She continued “Son if they don’t know your worth they will hurt you every day”. If you show them your fangs and your value clearly mentioning “I am a snake, I am not to be taken advantage of – Let go off me”, then no one can harm you. I am not telling you to bite them at the same time you are my fine and powerful son who cannot be hit by a human every day. Show them that the snake is never week and powerless”

            Self respect is significant. If we let someone bully us be it our colleague, friend or boss…we are not only falling week but at the same time cordially inviting the other to harm us -

1.      Learn to say NO to things/people who bring you down and crush our feelings.

2.      Remember the one who suffers knowingly is an equal criminal than the one who commits the crime

3.      Domestic violence/ sexual harassment or eve teasing – If not fought against can make him the most powerful bully. Not fighting against injustice or crime or not raising voice for corruption or bully’s is not being gentle, humble or sensitive - It is equally criminal. Standing up for your rights and showing or proving your worth has got nothing to do with education but awareness so that you are not hurt and are taken granted for.

Later that I came to know that my grandmother narrated the interesting version of Swami Vivekananda


Let people say whatever they like, stick to your own convictions, and rest assured, the world will be at your feet. They say, "Have faith in this fellow or that fellow", but I say, "Have faith in yourself first", that's the way. Have faith in yourself -- all power is in you -- be conscious and bring it out. Say, "I can do everything." "Even the poison of a snake is powerless if you can firmly deny it." Beware! No saying "nay", no negative thoughts! Say, "Yea, Yea," "So'ham, So'ham"--"I am He! I am He!" – Swami Vivekananda

The First Rains

After the scorching heat and dreary afternoons in the capital, I came home for a much desired small vacation, after 6 long months. 

The first day after a long taxing Indian railway journey - my train journeys by the way are always sad. I tend to depend on Indian Railways for a lot of reasons mostly because they are economical; I would not consider them cheap though, since we always prefer air conditioned coaches than the others. Most of the times I am surrounded by kids, the little ones who love to cry out loud (really loud) for no specific reason...senior citizens and uncles who love to snore and gawky strangers who love to ogle women, like a piece of meat making one uncomfortable and awkward. I question nature for offering eyes to such anthropoids!

Anyway, when the train reached my home town, as always my father was there to pick me up, after smiles and hugs concluded, I realized that the weather was pleasant. I was still irritated rather maddened by the hot weather, power cuts and the exhaustion in the capital. The moment I reached home, there were heavy rains (The timing was just so appropriate) and I got the sweetest welcome from my grandfather who exclaimed “You are so lucky that we had our first monsoon today”.

Rains are directly proportional to my smile. Like a stupid one year old who laughs every time when you make senseless funny gestures, sounds or antics, I smiled when it rained, each time. The feeling was awesome like I found something which I was yearning for long. I felt like ringing every friend of mine in Delhi and shouting that it’s raining here! But that would be mean and costly since my phone was on roaming and I was on sick leave from office

Since childhood I have loved rains, getting wet on the terrace and sneezing quietly repeatedly because you always fought a battle with an elder in the family with a motive to drench. So my mother smiled and told my maid “the children were enjoying upstairs…they love to get drenched in the rain”. My maid said I dare not let my children do that because the roof sheets of our house fly and maximum children in the slums and street urchins die when the asbestos sheets fall accidently on them. Her 4 year old died the same way. With red watery eyes she said, I was married at 20, He was my first kid. Rains are evil, she exclaimed.

I was present right there, overhearing while I wiped my hair with a towel, waiting for my coffee to boil. The smile, weather, rains, Bollywood picture of the sexy heroine dancing in a chiffon saree to please the hero started to fade away. She said that he was bleeding profusely after the neighbor’s roof fled and hit his head. Her baby’s blood and skin were washed in the rain after the shed hit him, till a part of his skull was visible. I did not realize that the coffee over boiled and started to overflow. I could just visualize a mother holding her dead toddler tight in her arms shrieking in remorse.

Thanks to the amazing fertility and skills of Indian men, my downtrodden maid and her husband hadn’t heard anything about family planning. My maid has 4 children and earns as much as the cost of an iPhone (second hand 2G that is), annually, a bare 3 digit salary a month INR.

So once you have so much activity (work, kids, husband who is the pain in the right area) in your life, you tend to get busy and likely reconcile after a while. But the very dialogue of my mother about kids getting wet in the rain scraped the miserable wounds from her memory lane. She was quiet for a minute, reached out to get some lemon flavored soap on the sponge and continued washing the utensils again.

And the devil in me or the ‘practical’ dame in me said – There are most horrible circumstances and mishaps than these. These people are illiterate, can produce four mighty children even after one is dead with such meager earning for god sake! Come on, don’t blame the awesome weather, it’s the irresponsible lady and her good for nothing Hercules husband who cannot afford a safe lifestyle for his kids, still breeds them. So I consoled myself and progressed towards the balcony sipping my Coffee (now half since it was over boiled).

The moment I reached for a chair and gaped outside, I saw a lady crying loudly, holding her dead son in her arms. I rubbed my eyes and realized it was not a movie or a dream, I took another sip of my Coco and Cinnamon flavored hot cappuccino. There was yet another woman screaming with a dead kid in her hands and this one even louder. What the hell was wrong?

The first rains were becoming too hard to digest now, don’t people pass away out of thirst or massive heat strokes in peak summers, and don’t they perish in winters or die in other seasons such as autumn or spring for the matching whys and wherefores? Why the drama now? Millions of people like my maid must have suffered more atrocious things than that, what is the fault of the weather here…why blame the amazing weather?

So I thought the right things to do were to lend a hand in my own little way –

1.    Help them build their houses to be water proof and strong or shock resistant in the brutal winds or heavy rains

2.    Tying the asbestos roof so tightly to the bamboo sticks that they don’t move forget landing on children’s head while they enjoy rains (very doable)

3.    Awareness on family planning (which is not related here but 4 kids…are you kidding me?, things you know you can talk about)

4.    Making houses in vicinity to hospitals or doctors

5.    Calling the area in charge/ mayor in case of emergencies, spreading a help line number.

We often think that cases like such must be in a million in number, in the world. What will make us the hero here? But the right thing is to help someone and give something to someone that you always had but the other person never had. Happiness is the biggest gift you can impart. Your diminutive deeds and minor considerations can bring about a major transformation in someone’s life.

In the end, I still love rains …the first rains for all good reasons but making someone else love nature the way I do is also a challenge now.