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Showing posts from November, 2009

The King's Railway

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The 50 something man who sat in the lavishly appointed waiting in the brand new train station, looked tired and haggard, but not beaten. He had been struggling to see his dream through for the last decade. Much of his time was spent in conceiving this project and bringing it to fruition, and the workload of handling the family and other responsibilities were bearing heavy on his shoulders. He had struggled, toiled and spent reams of paper corrrsponding with the new authorities of the land or what it was today. He had begged and cajoled with them and he had dug deep in augmenting the finances to complete the project. He thought wryly, sometimes, about how he, the king of the land, had to wait and beg permission from the new lords of the state - the British foriegner, to do something benifitting his own subjects.

The king was none other than the erstwhile maharajah of Cohin, Rama Varma XV. Soon the train arrived at the spanking new Cochin terminus, chugging along the shiny grey rails, a…

Behind the Veil

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Sometimes it is difficult to comprehend human nature. Like in this case that was recently reported from Iraq.It show how war brings out the worst in us, when people start to behave like animals and show their terrible sides.

A man was suspected of something (!!); however the local police were not able to get a hand on him. So they took away his sister named Dalal, all the way from Baghdad to distant Tikrit hoping that the brother would follow to get her out. There they jailed her incommunicado in a mainly men’s prison and soon enough, she was raped repeatedly.

The lady became pregnant and fearfully wrote to her brother, pleading for help. Dalal lived through the horrible days behind bars in Tikrit, hoping that her brother would at least now come to save her from her misery. She was also quite worried wondering how she would continue her life after release, and what her family would think.

Her brother requested police permission to meet her. Permission was granted. He came to the poli…

The Nomad

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And so here I am, in yet another place, after yet another move. Most people balk at moving from one house to another, let alone one state to the next. But our journey has been across vast distances, taking us to cultures differing widely and forcing our entire thought process and life style to be different. Thinking back, adaptation was the least of the worries, actually. Some days when I sit in great formal meetings arranged by some manager who has it in his action plan, teaching us how to adapt to multi and cross cultural working environments, I just smile, for I can assure you that not even one of those speakers or presenters have ever moved far from their city of birth, let alone countries, to know what it is really like for oneself, for ones family, for ones friends.

Starting from childhood, my life had been nomadic. Born in a remote estate region of North Malabar, I lived away from my parents who were in the British tea estates of Wyanad, where dad was a Doc. Lack of good school…