Gerald D'Cunha

WHEN WE SPEW THE POISON OF OUR PREJUDICE

2026-10-15T17:39:34.597+05:30

“Do you know what we call opinion

in the absence of evidence?

We call it prejudice.”

― Michael Crichton

None of us live in a vacuum… not in our private islands, not in our communes. We live right in the midst of a mass -– consisting of hundreds of cultures, customs, languages, religious beliefs, eating habits, and political affiliations… And, in my view, it’s not only a great beauty, but, it’s, also, a great blessing…

Think of a citizen of this country like me –- a teacher. For decades, my life had been surrounded by young students from different parts of this country… who spoke different languages, wore their traditional clothes, ate their ethnic food, prayed to their respective deities… and voted to whom they preferred. I was born in a Christian family. In Christianity itself, there are a dozen denominations. I was raised in the coastal town, Mangalore… My neighbours, classmates, friends –- yes, our differences, as I said, did not make our minds narrow -– they only broadened them…

The only time, our minds narrowed, and hearts closed their gates, was when communal riots broke out in our town. And, invariably, such riots were instigated by self-serving political leaders.

The seeds of poison are sown in a mind which has lost its ability to ‘think’…

Today, when I see how many of us have been so rampantly polarized, I ask myself this question:

Can a teacher/writer like me allow my personal prejudice spill out in my classroom, or in my writings?

But, I see many of my fellow-professionals allowing their prejudice to spill out openly…

A teacher, doctor, lawyer, artist, businessman, student –- we all have our right and duty to be responsible citizens of this nation. But, when we behave openly –- particularly in social media –- spewing the poison of our prejudice, it’s clear, that we have lost our discerning power…

We have become the members of the herd… We have become the mob.

Leo Buscaglia said this: “Don't walk in my head with your dirty feet.”

I find myself not only giving this stern warning, but, also, receiving it…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: Pixabay 1. wal 172619

2. Ri Ya

Video: Harmony Circle SG

SHOULD YOU GO FIRST, AND I REMAIN

2026-10-13T16:29:56.673+05:30

"Life doesn’t come with a manual;

it comes with a mother."

- Unknown

Today is the second death anniversary of my Mom. We called her ‘Mai’. The last two years or so, before Mom passed away, we saw the rapid decile of her health. She was unable to walk, talk, eat, or remember anything. But, through this ordeal, my elder brother Franklin, and his wife Merlyn, took exceptional care of Mom.

Mom was 48 when our Dad (we called him ‘Baab’) died of a sudden heart attack. He was in his mid-fifties. We were five brothers. When Dad died, Franklin, the eldest of us, was 27, I was 25, Harry, the third of us was 23. Rony, the fourth and Vivek, the fifth -– they both were too young when Dad passed away. Imagine, our Mom’s situation… Her life had been full of struggle till then. Dad was a local mechanic, with his huge flaws -– excessive drinking and smoking. Mom endlessly guggled to make the two ends meet… Struggle continued till all her five boys could stand on their own feet.

On her second death anniversary of Mom, I wonder how she handled her loss… how gracefully she lived as a widow, hoping to see her five sons and their families did well in life…

Harry passed away before Mom did. While the rest of us lived, doing reasonably well in our lives, my thoughts go to my elder brother, Franklin. He and his wife, Merlyn, gave up so much when Mom declined in her health… She had literally become a baby… totally dependent on her eldest son and his wife… A few morsels of food took hours to go in… Yes, she was nursed like a little baby by Franklin and Merlyn.

Mom had lived her life gracefully and purposefully. She was an incredibly pious woman. Her death was peaceful, even though it was painful for all of us. Franklin and Merlyn could now take a much-deserved break… A few months in the US and two trips to Dubai. When the second Dubai trip was to end, Franklin had a massive brain-stroke, and his right side was paralyzed fully. Almost a month in one of Dubai’s hospitals, he was flown back to Mangalore (hometown), and straight into a neuro-specialty hospital…

Months have passed by. Franklin is confined to his bed and the wheelchair; and, it’s the turn of Merlyn and their elder son, Macklin to nurse Franklin back to health… Now, at 70, he is the new baby at home… Every baby step looks like a jubilation… every attempt to express something sounds like, yes, baby’s maiden word!

Behind: Franklin, Macklin, Divya, Sherwin (2018)

Front: Mom and Merlyn

Helplessly watching this plight of my elder brother, and the love, care and patience shown by his wife and sons, today, I am remembering Mom’s last two years…

“Of all, Lord, why this to Franklin?”… a side of me asks.

Franklin now (on chair) flanked by Raju, the caretaker

Mom never asked that question: “Lord, why this to me?” –- neither when she endlessly struggled to keep her head above the water level and put us on our feet, nor while living as a widow for forty-one long years…

Grace, grit and gratitude –- yes, Mom has left us with this shield of legacy…

Miss you, Mom…

GERLAD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: 1. Pixabay/Marcin 2. 2 & 3 Alcel Villa

Video: Gaither Music

BEFORE YOU JOIN A BUSINESS SCHOOL

2026-10-11T20:16:04.998+05:30

“People look for greatness only in the extraordinary and completely overlook the wonder of the ordinary.”

Ann Tatlock Quotes

This young man –- let me name him Sahil* –- is an MBA aspirant. He was expected to come to me for a ‘grooming’ session at 11, this morning. Sapna*, his mother, who was my student several years ago, had requested me to ‘polish’ her boy to a join a good business school.

Grooming, polishing, finishing, and business schools -- I, often, find them a lot hyped up. “Why do you search for goodness outside, while it lies right inside you?” I ask parents and their young kids, “Why don’t you start with small things, which are right within your reach?”

“Good evening Sahil. Hope, you will be there at 11, tomorrow morning. Please confirm,” I messaged the young MBA aspirant, last evening. As he did not respond to my message even after two hours, I forwarded the message to Sapna, asking her to check with Sahil. She instantly replied:

“Good evening Sir. Yes, Sahil will be there at 11 tomorrow. I will ask him to respond, too. Regards.”

Just a minute after that, I saw Sahil’s message:

“Yes.”

I took a long breath. When the breath ended, I wrote to him:

“Dear Sahil, I am sharing Mom’s reply, and I want you to refine yours. Reason: Such fine lessons will not be taught in any Business School. I want you to be a lot mindful about little things in life. Love you, dear.”

I tagged Sapna with a note: “Sapna, I just imparted a subtle lesson to your young boy. Hope, he sees the point I am trying to make.”

“Thank you, Sir… It’s much needed,” Sapna ended the late-night conversation…

I was remembering another similar episode. The only difference: the person involved in this episode was not a Business School aspirant, but the Director of one of the premier Business Schools in the city. I had met him earlier and he had shared his number and asked me to communicate through this number. Last night, when I checked: I found, that five of my messages and two phone calls were left unattended. The messages had been delivered, and the phone was ringing…

Too busy to send even a bland (blunt) response like Sahil’s?

Or, was it right on my part to ‘judge’ this Head of the Business School?

Well, these kinds of things –- lack of sensitivity –- is rampant among educators and educated alike…

The speed of the leader is the speed of the gang. An old saying that is…

“If you wanna change the world, start off with making your bed.” This was Admiral McRaven‘s famous advice to the educators and educated alike…

So much for our search for ‘gold’ outside of ourselves!

*Names changed

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: Pixabay/Alexas Fotos

Video: The University of Texas at Austin

REMEMBERING NANA AND SHRIPAD

2026-10-09T13:03:38.396+05:30

After nine years, I am reposting this Blog, today. I fondly remembered it yesterday. I am sure, the story will make your hearts smile…

GURU, EK BAAT PUCHNA THA AAPSE...

October 16, 2017

“Guru, kaise ho?”

It is Shripad, checking about my well-being?

“Mein teek hun chela… Tum kaise ho?”

“Ek baat puchna tha, Guru…”

“Puchlo chela…”

This is how our typical conversation goes…

Shripad Ragunathan came in my life the way Raghav (Nana Patekar) came in the life of Jay (John Abraham) in the heart-warming movie ---- ‘Taxi No 9211’!

It was 2006, the start of academic year. Shripad was about to start his T.Y. B.Com. One morning, his mother called me up and said, “Sir, I want my son, Shripad, to join your class. Can my husband and I come and talk to you?”

The next morning, Shripad’s parents came to meet me. I learnt, that Shripad was their only child and was a ‘differently-abled special-child.’… that, he was excellent in his self-confidence and speech, but had difficulty writing, grasping, and socially gelling. He took a lot of time to write and his handwriting was not coherent and legible… His mother, right from his baby days, had been copying notes for him from his friends’ books… She would request the tuition teachers to allow her to sit during the tuition classes, so that she could understand the subject and take down the notes as well. (For the entire academic year, she attentively sat on the last bench in my class, while Shripad loved to sit on the first bench)

Shripad... My 'hero!

When Shripad was enrolled in my T.Y. B.Com class, he was my first ‘special’ student… I had a packed class room… bright, dumb... all together in it! But, my experience with Shripad would, always, remain special to me… He never ever thought, that he was ‘inferior’ to anyone in the class… either in studies, debates, or general knowledge… In the midst of the lecture, he would stop me, at least, a dozen times, to clarify some point…

“Siiiiiir…”

I had prepared the class not to lose patience with him… I had prepared myself, before that. Yes, I would internally get derailed… I would, often, count ‘hundred’ till Shripad completed writing… I would patiently explain to him again, and then again, the same point… But, at the end of the day, I would go home, pleased about the way I had conducted myself!

Shripad had, also, joined our Personality Development Programme… He was fearless and bold when he spoke on stage, and took part in GDs…

The Hindi film -- ‘Taxi No 9211’ -- had just been released. During one playful session, I teased Shripad and said, “You must watch the film… You will love it.”

The very next day, Shripad had asked his parents to watch the film along with him, in a nearby cinema hall. The following day, in the midst of the lecture, Shripad said loudly, “Siiiiir…”

“Yes, Shripad….”

“Siiiiir, it’s not a doubt from the Accountancy subject… It is from the filam ‘Taxi No. 9211.”

The class erupted in laughter!

“Siiiiir, I liked the filam… but, ek baat puchna tha aapse: Am I like Nana Patekar, or John Abraham?”

I took a looooong breath and then said to my Shripad, “Arey beta, that’s not important… Just like them, we have come in each other’s life and, in the end, we both are going to ‘change for the better’… You will change me… I will change you!”

“My ambition is to do a job,” this was how Shripad would, always, tell me and others during the P.D. sessions. I never advised him on that… never tried to set some bench marks… I only wished and prayed, that all would be well in his life!

Shripad’s grandparents had specially lived in Mumbai only to make sure he completed his graduation… It was the family goal. His dad, who was a thorough gentleman with an amazing sense of humour, his mother who was like a rock, his doting grandparents… yes, all had stayed back in Mumbai only to make Shripad a graduate…

Immediately after the final exams, his parents invited my wife and me for a sumptuous South Indian dinner at their place… Shripad was proud as a peacock, that night!

The very next week, the whole family migrated to Chennai, where they had an ancestral house. It was only after a couple of years, when Shripad got connected with me on FB, that I learnt that he was doing his ‘job’ at TVS….

“Shripad, do you enjoy your ‘Job’? I asked him…

“Yes Guru… very much,” Shripad was a winner all along, and an eternal optimist.

‘Guru, ek baat puchna tha, aapse…”

That’s how it was in those days… and that’t how it is these days, too. “Kaise ho Guru?” he would ask me in the message box… followed by, “Guru, ek baat puchna tha aapse…”

For the last couple of years, never failing a single day, Shripad has been enthralling us, his FB friends, with a short tribute to a legend or a celebrity on latters’ birthdays…

Today is Shripad’s birthday… To me, he is a legend, a celebrity. So, here is my tribute to my adorable chela -- Shripad Ragunathan...

“Happy b’day, beta!”

Well, Shripad’s birthday, October 16, is a week away. I had posted this Blog nine years ago. Shripad’s family has moved to Coimbatore, and he is no more doing the ‘job’ with TVS, nor is he posting on FB his tribute to celebrities, particularly, the famous film starts on their birthdays. Last morning, when the news broke about Nana Patekar’s sudden demise, my mind rolled back to those wonderful moments with my one-of-a-kind chela -– Shripad… Today, I am going to request him to write a beautiful tribute to this one-of-a-kind film star… Nana Patekar…

Ironically, not on his birthday!

Did I say – ‘One-of-a-kind’? Or, a ‘Differently-abled’?

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: 1. Getty Images/Sujit Jaiswal 2 & 3 Shripad Ragunathan

Video: RelianceEntertainment

LEARNING, UNLEARNING AND RELEARNING

2026-10-07T12:43:19.524+05:30

“The illiterate of the future

are not those who can’t read or write,

but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn.”

Alvin Toffler

One of my favourite songs is from the movie –- ‘The Greatest Showman’. The movie is a beautiful musical, in which each song is mesmerising, inspiring. But, the song I remember today, in the context of today’s blog, is –- ‘A million Dreams’. Here are a few lines…

'Cause every night I lie in bed
The brightest colors fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake’

Well, I remember this song, today, because, my head, too, is filled with a hundred little stories, even though they aren’t made of the brightest colours. Nevertheless, as the lyrics go, I, too, can sing: “They keep me awake.”

In these ten days, when I did not share a single post, I could relate to the song… There were a hundred stories I wanted to share; but, strangely, I decided not to…

“Gerry, are you there?” one of my ardent cheerleaders asked.

“Yes, I am there,” I replied.

“Share some of the stories your head was filled with during these ten days,” I was nudged.

“There are a hundred stories… and, how can I?” I expressed my apprehension.

Then, I thought of sharing just three of them…

Soumya and Shankar were siblings. More than thirty years ago, they were my students. They came from very ordinary homes, with little financial means; they studied in local schools (state board), went to one of Mumbai’s colleges (R.A. Poddar)… both completed Chartered Accountancy and moved to different cities. Soumya, being passionate about teaching, parallelly started teaching young college kids in Delhi. The other day, she called me to discuss a business proposal from one of her friends. This friend of Soumya was planning to come up with Career App and was persuading Soumya to partner with. But, Soumya, aware of her own background -– and how she and her brother had figured out their own career paths and passions –- was not at all convinced about this whole ‘app business’…

“Sir, what is your advice to me… Should I involve in this project?” Soumya asked me.

“What does your heart say?” I asked.

“It says ‘No’,” Soumya did not blink.

“That’s my advice, too,” I rested the case.

Gopal was my student, too, some twenty-five years ago. He was raised by his grandmother. This woman was 10, when came from Pakistan’s Sindh Province as a refugee. From the barracks of refugee camp, she, eventually, made a one-room house by her hard work and determination. One of her major goals was to make Gopal a post graduate.

Some days ago, I bumped into Gopal after a very long time. The first thing I asked him was: “How’s your grandma?”

“Sir, she passed away some years ago,” Gopal told me.

“What a determined woman she was,” I remembered Gopal’s grandma, “She would come to me, every month, to enquire about your progress.”

“Sir, I was the first in our entire family to complete tenth standard,” Gopal said, “She distributed sweets to the entire building when I cleared my tenth… She was the proudest soul on earth when I became a graduate, and, later, a post graduate… That’s her dream.”

Last night, I was talking to Meeta over the phone. Again, I had taught her close to thirty years ago. She had difficulty in numbers. Hence, she couldn’t clear my subject (Financial Accountancy). I taught her that subject all over again, and she ended up clearing it. “Sir, you were kind enough to teach me that subject again, free of cost, showing loads of patience, without giving up on me,” Meeta remembered those days. “I was, always, a people person; I loved meeting and communicating with people… It took some hard knocks in life to figure out where my heart was calling me,” Meeta said to me, last night.

“Hard Knocks in life?” Yes, Meeta’s life was going great with her husband’s prosperous career. They had one school-going son. For many years, Meeta (and their little son) lived abroad with her husband. Then, keeping son’s schooling in mind, she decided to come back to India with her son, while husband continued to climb the career ladder even more. Then, one day, the news arrived about the husband’s death due to multiple cardiac arrests…

Meeta wasn’t working. Son was in class six. The world had caved in unannounced…

“Sir, I was 42 when this happened… I had no work experience… My head was bloated with pride, saying, ‘My husband was a corporate honcho’… I had to demolish that pride… Start from the scratch… To unlearn what I had learnt, and relearn, again.”

I remembered the ‘Career App’ which Soumya’’s friend was planning to launch… I remembered how she and her brother had chosen the path of Chartered Accountancy (and even teaching)… I remembered Gopal’s grandma, who, without even going to school, had ended up making her grandson a post graduate… and, I remembered how Meeta, had figured out, through the hard knocks of life –- how to go where her heart was calling her…

These three stories… I thought of sharing, today, out of a hundred stories that kept me awake on my bed… Yes, during the last ten days…

“Gerry, are you there?”

“Yes, I am there.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

*All names changed

Pic’s: Pixabay 1. Sasin Tipchai 2. Frauke Riether

Video: Varash Nusantara/The Greatest Showman

BAPPA, PLEASE DON'T GO

2026-09-26T13:59:45.345+05:30

“In prayer, it is better to have a heart without words,

than words without a heart. ”
― John Bunyan

Yesterday was the last day of Ganeshotsav, the day of final visarjan. I had taken a day off and decided to rest -- do nothing of my routine things… no teaching, no writing, no cribbing…

It may surprise you to see ‘cribbing’ in the list of my ‘routine things’…

Yes Sir, even though I know gratitude is the best medicine for cribbing and complaining, I haven’t fully done with my deeply-rooted tendency to crib…

Perhaps, I am not alone in this. And, perhaps, that’s why Bappa keeps returning to this manavlok, every year. This time, He even stayed for a day more, so that He would provide an extra day for a person like me to crib a little less, if not stop it completely…

Bappa’s blessings had reached our household, decades ago… More than fifty years ago, a family in our immediate neighbourhood was from GSB community. In our hometown (Mangalore) the GSB community would traditionally follow this Mumbai-like Ganeshotsav… The idol would be brought home on the day of the Ganesh Chaturthi, worshipped for all the days, and, finally, taken out for the visarjan. We had a drinking-water well; and our GSB neighbours had persuaded my parents for the immersion of Ganesh idol in our well.

This tradition continued for years, till our GSB neighbours moved to another place. We continued to savour the water from our well, feeling blessed…

There was another tradition, which, even today, continues in our native home. Another Hindu family (now third generation) and our family (where my elder brother’s family lives) continue to exchange our respective festival delicacies –- We send them on Christmas, Easter, and Parish Feast… They send us on the day of Ganesh Chaturthi, Krishna Ashtami, and Deepawali. Imagine, this continuing for more than six decades!

Frankly, God appears for each one of us in different forms… Our prayers are said in different words… Our rituals look completely different… But, if we remove our biased lenses and start appreciating and respecting our neighbours’ ways and sentiments, are we not the true devotees of the Almighty God? Therefore, what John Bunyan says makes so much sense:

“In prayer, it is better to have a heart without words,

than words without a heart. ”

I believe, that prayer and devotion reach our Lord the fastest, when we offer them like little kids do… I have watched dozens of videos in which little kids cry, hug, and do not let Bappa, their favourite Deity, to go on visarjan day… I have cried watching these scenes. Jesus said, “Blessed are these children, for the Kingdom of God truly belongs to them.”

And, behold this scene, where the procession of Lalbaug cha Raja stops in front of the Hindustani Masjid near Byculla, on its way for visarjan… I am told, that, for nearly five decades, this touching scene has been unfolding!

Bappa blesses all…

He blessed our Christian household, dissolving into our well, whose water we drank all through… He blesses the pure-hearted Muslims, Sikhs, and every innocent soul…

So that, we all can learn, again and again and again, to crib about Life… yes, a little less, each passing year…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: Pixabay/Ravindra Panwar

Video: 1. rijwani's craetions 2. FN @filmynews

NEVERMORE TO ROAM... LORD, I AM COMING HOME

2026-09-24T12:58:15.094+05:30

“I’ve wandered far away from God,
Now I’m coming home;
The paths of sin too long I’ve trod,
Lord, I’m coming home.”

(From the hymn ‘Lord, I am Coming Home’)

Two days ago, Mrs. Vaz (We fondly called her Vaz aunty) passed away at 88. Vaz family was very close to my in-laws’ family when, years ago, they lived in the same building and the same entrance of one of the buildings in Anushakti Nagar (BARC Colony). Then, they shifted to their own house in a nearby private colony, where, I, too, as a bachelor, moved to live along with my younger brother, Harry. I got married and, my wife came to live in this house. For seven years, we were destined to be the neighbours of Vaz family, and I was destined to teach their only son, Joywin, soon after. Eventually, my wife and I moved to different places; but, we continued to stay in touch with Vaz family…

Let me correct myself, here: My father-in-law considered Vaz aunty as his sister. Till he died, five years ago, he and Vaz aunty would call each other, daily… Yes, daily! On my every birthday, Vaz aunty would remember to call me to wish. But, for last few years, aunty’s health had begun to deteriorate… particularly after Vaz uncle died due to Covid. Joywin and his wife, Pramila, despite their jobs, took good care of aunty. My wife and I had visited their place to check on aunty… But, then, neither my wife and I, nor Joywin, could ever do what Vaz aunty and my father-in-law did for decades -– to stay in touch, to check on each other, every day, in rain and shine, both… yes, in health and sickness, that is… in good times and bad times, that is…

When the news came to us about Vaz aunty’s demise, the first thought to consume me was that of a nagging guilt: “Why didn’t we check on her for this long?”

For many years, the Patil family lived in the opposite flat in that BARC Colony building where Vaz family lived. Both, Vaz uncle and aunty would leave for work in the morning and return home late. The baby Joywin was, literally, raised in the Patil household. The two sons of this Patil family (now in their sixties, and who, now, live in Palghar district) had come for auny’s funeral. They recounted so many fond memories of those days -– how simple life was… how trusting and helping neighbours were… “Their door and our door were, always, open… We considered both houses as one, and Joywin as our own baby,” the sons recalled.

During the funeral mass, the choir group sang one of the old hymns -- ‘Lord, I am Coming Home’. I don’t think, even a stone doesn’t melt every time this hymn is being sung during funerals. Like the most sung hymn, ‘Amazing Grace’, the wordings remain similar: The repentant heart pleading to God to show mercy -- with His grace, to forgive the sins, and take back in His loving arms…

“I have wasted my life…

Nevermore to roam,

Lord, I am coming home.”

No matter how pious, you think, you have lived your life, in the heart of your hearts, you know, how far you had wandered away from God… Hence, you cannot contain your tears, as this song goes up in the air…

“I’m tired of sin and straying, Lord,
Now I’m coming home.”

Just two days earlier, these four young Mumbai college kids were coming home –- most probably, from one of their wild, nightlong parties… and, most probably, they were all drunk, both literally and mentally… And, most probably, all these young kids belonged to some financially-affluent families. Visibly, their BMW was driven so insanely fast, that it had lost control, crashed into the heavy barricades, and plunged away into, almost, hundred feet down from the heights of the coastal road. The car and the bodies, in seconds, had turned unrecognizable. It’s 5 a.m… The night hadn’t still ended… The young kids were yet to reach their homes…

Were their loved ones waiting, anxiously?

As the hymn was being sung in the church, the disturbing images of the plunge in the wee hours were flooding my mind…

“Nevermore to roam,

Lord, I am coming home.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: 1. Pixabay/Mungdomino 2. Vaz family. 3. Atul Kamble/Mid-Day

Video: Songs and Everlasting Joy

GROOMING FOR THE DECEMBER INTERVIEW

2026-09-22T21:16:09.614+05:30

“If you want to leave your footprints on the

sands of time, do not drag your feet.”

Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam

Three of my favourite people – who I, always, admired -- and even idolised –- come before me, today. And, all three of them are no more now. Let me talk a bit about each one of them…

R. K. Laxman, kept us all enthralled and inspired for long decades as a gifted cartoonist. Like millions of people in this country, I, too, would eagerly look forward to each morning to see his everyday political satire, and, yes, his famous ‘Common man’ saying so much without uttering a single word… What a genius R. K. Laxman was! The legend has it, that the famed ‘J. J. School of Art’ of Bombay rejected him as a student, saying, that he lacked talent. In other words, according to the selection panel, he wasn’t worthy to be a student of this ‘coveted’ institution. Ironically, today, you walk into this very college campus to witness a statue of this ‘rejected’ student’s finest creation -- ‘The Common Man’.

R.K. Laxman sketched his cartoons even when he was paralysed and confined to wheelchair…

Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam was born and raised in the temple town of Rameshwaram in coastal Tamil Nadu. His father owned a boat that ferried pilgrims to the Rameshwarm temple. To support his poor parents, as a boy, Dr. Kalam delivered newspapers house to house in his neigbourhood. He studied in a local school, and went about doing his further studies in Physics and Aerospace Engineering, followed by a doctoral degree. Through his sheer grit, dedication and genius, he became ‘The Missile Man of India’… and, finally, became one of India’s most loved and respected Presidents…

Dhirubhai Ambani’s story began with the first office of the Reliance Commercial Corporation, which was set up (in 1958) at Narsinatha Street in Masjid Bunder (Bombay). It was a 350-sq-ft room with a telephone, one table and three chairs. Initially, they had two assistants to help them with their business. He, at a young age, had been to Aden (a city of Yemen) in search of better pastures. It’s reported, that, in Aden, he worked as an attendant in a petrol pump. He couldn’t afford to study beyond Matriculation (Class 10). But, like my other two heroes in this Post, he never stopped himself from dreaming big, and dreaming original… Thus, after returning to India, he founded the Reliance empire… He was only 26. And, it needs no more description from me, here…

Meanwhile, you may be curious to know, as to why am I remembering, today, these three super achievers…

More than a month ago, Anuradha* called me. Her son, Vishruth* studied in one of the well-known IB schools in Mumbai. She said, the boy was a super achiever and exceptionally well-mannered. But, she was keen to enroll Vishruth (for class X1) in Dhirubhai Ambani School in BKC. Post that, she wanted to prepare her son to pursue further studies in one of the best universities in America (where she and her husband had done their higher education and worked for many years before returning to India).

Well, this kind of dream from a parent doesn’t look a misplaced one. The young boy, as the mother said, is absolutely a bright kid, and, importantly, well-mannered. Then, what was that Anuradha wanted from me?

“Sir, Vishruth has to face an interview in this December to be selected as their student in Dhirubhai Ambani School. It’s very tough to get into this school… I want you to groom my boy in whatever way you can. We trust you,” said Anuradha, sincerely. The trust had come in Anuradha, because, at Vishruth’s age, Anuradha’s sisters had attended our PD programmes. All of them, presently, have settled abroad and are doing very well. But, unlike Vishruth, all of them, including Anuradha, had done their schooling and initial college studies here in our local schools and colleges (State Boards).

So, knowing the family well, I honestly advised Anuradha not to place excessive importance on these so-called ‘great institutions’. “Vishruth is a fine boy, and, trust me, he will go places,” I keep reminding her, even after four Sundays of ‘grooming’. I tell her, that, neither Dhirubhai nor Nita Ambani had to go to ‘such schools’ to be where they are, today. I keep giving her and Vishruth the examples of R.K. Laxman, the ‘J. J. School reject’… and, Dr. Abdul Kalam, who went around in his village delivering newspapers to support his poor family. I quote the ‘Missile Man:

“If you want to shine like a sun, first burn like a sun.”

*Names changed

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: 1. www.newindianexpress.com 2. stutterstock

3. thepersonage.com

Video: Srikanth Ganapathy

DIALOGUE IN THE DARK

2026-09-18T13:01:30.480+05:30

“When we give cheerfully and accept gratefully,

everyone is blessed.”

― Maya Angelou

One of my childhood memories, which, often, flash before me -– particularly when I try to navigate through the darkness, both, physical and metaphorical –- is that of uncle Gilbert, who lived in our neighbourhood in Mangalore. It was the mid-sixties; I must’ve been a kid of age 7 or 8. There was no electricity in our houses… The kaccha lane, that led to our parish church, was pitch dark in the nights… The lane was untarred, rough and uneven. Uncle Gilbert, who was in his late thirties or early forties, lived halfway through this lane. He was fully blind. Yet, he would never miss a single mass or church prayer service, be it during the day, or be it during the night. With the help of his stick, he managed to go to church, and come back on his own, every single day. Many times, some of us, including little kids, would offer our hands and walk with him. He would keep us engaged with his interesting stories. I remember asking him, one night, while helping him back from the church: “Uncle Gilbert, how are you able to walk though this lane in the nights; don’t you get scared?”

The answer still haunts me, even after six decades: “Son, for people like me, there is no difference between a day and a night.”

Yes, as a little kid, that answer did not sound significant. But, as years rolled by, it, certainly, did…

The imagery in the childhood story –- ‘The Blind Man and His Lantern’ –- also, refuses to go… He had been to another village, and it had turned dark… A lantern was lighted and handed to him… After covering quite a distance, someone saw him and said, “O blind man, why do you need that lantern; you are anyways blind?”

Again, the answer still haunts me: “My friend, that lantern is not for a blind man to see; it’s for people like you to see a blind man.”

A while ago, I happened to come across this short podcast video from ‘The Human Thread’. I was gripped by what the guest (Gurumaa Yogita Khatri) was describing -- her experience of visiting a restaurant in Hyderabad. The name of the restaurant was ‘DIALOGUE IN THE DARK’. A sighted young man ushered them inside… where it was pitch dark, and the food was served only by the blind… When Gurumaa described her experience –- trying to make out, if what she was touching on the plate was dal, rice, veggies, pakodas, or sweets –-she couldn’t control her overwhelming emotions… She ran out in ten minutes and just cried her heart out, realising how fortunate she was for whatever blessings God had showered upon her… Here is the video…

I was even more humbled, on reading the very first comment on the video. Guru Moorthy, one of the five investors in this restaurant, said, that they had to shut down the restaurant during Covid due to social distancing, and couldn’t reopen it since then. All five investors, he said, lost the money…

This time, I got out of chair to cry my heart out… Once done, I started typing this Blog…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: 1. Gustavo Fring 2. Nathan Marcam

Video: The Human Thread

BOOKS ARE A UNIQUELY PORTABLE MAGIC

2026-09-17T14:07:51.984+05:30

“A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone,

if it is to keep its edge.”

― George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

Some days ago, when I was about to retire for the day, I happened to see a message from a stranger. He wrote:

“Mr. Gerald, last week, I had been to my friend’s house (Nitin Arora), where I found your new blog book and got immediately attracted towards it. Seeing my face, Nitin immediately handed the book to me saying, ‘You know my allergy for the books… Take it, you will love it.’… Thus, I am the proud owner of your book… Let me tell you, I haven’t put it down!”

Well, I was hugely flattered, and got a sound sleep that night!

Nitin was one of my dear ex-students. He is well-placed in life. A few months ago, when I had approached him for the subscription of these ten-book series, he gladly did. But, he said the same thing to me, “Gerry Sir, you know my allergy for the books. So, this subscription is not for your books, but for you.”

My reply was the standard one: “Nitin, rest assured; it will reach some deserving hands… ‘Daane daane pe likha hai khaane wale ka naam.”

The book, thus, had reached the serving hands of Nitin’s frind, who is a stranger to me.

Some forty-six years ago, when I was a stranger in this big city, jobless and hungry, I had found on the footpath, near Churchgate station, an overused and torn copy of Napoleon Hill’s classic, ‘Think and Gow Rich’… “This book could be worth a million dollars to you” was flashed on the cover… I picked it up, perhaps, for five or ten rupees.

The book caused a revolution in my hungry heart… I found myself reading it over and over and over again… Till, one night, I decided to come out of my excuses, saying, “Enough of self-pity.”

When I found this book, here on the streets of Bombay, Napoleon Hill had long gone there in America. I don’t know how many hands that particular copy must’ve changed, and in how many hearts it must’ve caused similar revolution… But, that copy was destined to reach my deserving hands…

In the same manner, every book I have ever picked on the streets –- has reached my hands… “Haanji, daane daane pe likha hai khane wale ka naam”.

I remember that night, some seventeen years ago. I was returning from my hometown, Mangalore, by train. It was 31^st December. Around 11.30 p.m., my phone rang… “Hello Sir, this is Yashodha, your ex-student, the voice cracked with apprehension, “My husband, Kumar, wants to talk to you for a few minutes.”

Kumar, who worked for BARC, wanted to thank me for my book –- ‘Vaachas Chame –- Lord, grant me the power of expression’ -– which had reached his hands through his wife, Yashodha. Many months before that, I was invited to attend a reunion of my first batch of students at Atomic Energy Junior College. I had carried 100 copies of ‘Vaachas Chame’ and asked the organizing committee to gift them to each student and teacher who had attended that reunion. Yashoda took the book home… and, the book was destined to reach the hands of her husband, who was a total stranger to me. Apparently, Kumar had loved that book so much, that (he told me during the conversation) he kept nudging Yashodha to thank me for it, and tell how her husband loved it. But, Yashodha, being shy and a lot apprehensive, couldn’t bring herself to do it. Finally, Kumar had pumped inside her enough courage to say “Hello Sir” that new-year’s eve. “Gerry, I told Yashodha, we need to express our gratitude and appreciation before another year ends… “Thank you so much; I thoroughly loved your book. Good night… A Happy New Year to you and your family.”

Did I get a sound sleep during the rest of my train journey?

I remembered what Stephen King had said: “Books are a uniquely portable magic.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s.: pixabay.com

Video: PBS NewsHour

WHEN SOMEONE GOES SILENT

2026-09-16T13:37:40.220+05:30

“I blinked my eyes
and in an instant,
decades had passed.”

― John Mark Green, ‘Taste the Wild Wonder: Poems’

An old neighbour of mine had invited us to visit their home… The Ganesha was to leave for the visarjan, late last evening. Before visiting their house, I visited another resident of that colony, where a friend of mine lived with his wife. A month ago, late one night, this friend had messaged me, saying, that the cancer (of his wife) had relapsed, and this time, aggressively at multiple places. Two surgeries later, and after a clear chit from some renowned Oncologists at Tata Memorial and elsewhere, my friend was unable to believe, that the relapse could happen. Anyway, he stood like a rock beside his wife, who had to undergo very strong Chemo’s (surgeries were ruled out)… Today morning at 7, the last chemo was scheduled… When I met my friend and his wife, late last evening, I could sense the anxiety behind the smiling faces…

“Be strong, Ma’am… Be strong, my friend… All will go well… We are praying.” Were these not just words, no matter how sincerely expressed?

Then, I visited Ganesha… “Lord, have mercy on the distressed family… Please give them strength and hope.” Yes, I prayed with folded hands to Vigneshwara…

“Just words? Just faith?”

Lord knows…

Thirty-four years ago, one morning, I was teaching in my classroom. Melvyn, my brother-in-law, came with a message (no phones at home, leave alone mobiles)… “Gerry, Flavy (that’s how my wife is called by the family) delivered a baby boy.”

Our son, Kenrick, wanted to come out weeks before the scheduled time… Well, I wound up my class and rushed to the nursing home. Then, from a nearby PCO, I called up a few dear and near ones to share the good news. One of them was Late Dr. V. K. Iya’s residence (at Saras Baug). He was the Group Director (Isotope) at BARC. He was personally handpicked by Dr. Homi Bhaba… and, I was privileged to teach his second daughter, Rekha, at their bungalow. Sir was such a fine gentleman, unbelievably unassuming… He and his wife (who he would call ‘Shrimati’) treated me like their own son. And, for a new comer in this big city, who still carried the heavy baggage of low self-confidence, an acceptance meant validity… the world!

So, that morning, Mrs. Iya picked the phone, “Good morning aunty, there is good news: We got a baby boy.”

There was silence from the other end. “Aunty, are you there?” I asked.

“Yes, yes… I am there. I am very happy. Congratulations to both of you, and blessings to the baby boy.”

I was a bit puzzled about that short pause Mrs. Iya had given before responding… But, I left it at that.

Some moths earlier, THE DAWN CLUB had brought out its latest edition of the inspirational magazine – ‘THE BLOOM’. We had made a cover story on Dr. Homi Bhabha in our ‘Great Motivators’ series. Dr. Iya had written the cover story alongside renowned scientists from BARC, Dr. Murthy and Dr. S.M. Rao. Late Mr. Tapan Basu, the exceptionally gifted artist, had done the cover… Dr. Iya was kind enough to organise for us some amazing images from BARC library…

When the Magazine was out, I sent my office assistant to Dr. Iya’s house to handover a couple of copies. Mrs. Iya opened the door to receive the magazine copies. My assistant, when he returned, was glowing with confidence… “Madam asked my name, “ he said, “When I said ‘Vasudev’, she was very happy and said… ‘Bahut achcha, beta… Bhagwan ka naam hai’.”

Dr. Vasudeva Kilara Iya was born on September 16, 1927… He would have completed 100 next September…

I am connecting the dots… Why Mrs. Iya went silent when I gave her the good news of our son’s arrival… Why she said to my office assistant – “Bahut achcha, beta… Bhagwan ka naam hai”

Dr. V. K. Iya (center) being felicitated by former P.M. Late Dr. Manmohan Singh,

Early this morning, the elder daughter of Dr. Iya, Dr. Vidya (a Cardiologist in Lilavati Hospital) messaged me:

“Gerry, please wish your son, Kenrick, a happy b’day… May all his wishes come true and have a long and healthy life.”

I knew, along with families of Dr. Vidya and Rekha, our family, too, were remembering the gentle soul –- a very rare gem -- Dr. V. K. Iya.

There was another message, early this morning, which, a die-hard reader and a well-wisher of mine had sent from America: “Long time, no blog.”

I smiled and replied instantly, “A dry spell is on, ma’am… Perhaps, your drizzle might cause a bloom, today.”

Frankly, I wanted to tell her this: “Ma’am, the world doesn’t revolve around my blogs, you see.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: 1. Pixabay/congerdesign 2. Pixel 3. Tapan Basu 4. Rekha Bhartee

Video: Ganeshaya Dheemathi

WHEN WE ADD OUR HEARTS TO OUR EDUCATION

2026-09-08T13:43:13.656+05:30

“Educating the mind without educating the heart

is no education at all.”

— Aristotle

I had taught Naresh in his T. Y. B. Com. It was forty years ago. We have remained as good friends ever since. Some months ago, his daughter Debanshee got married to her sweetheart, Sooraj, in a simple temple ceremony in America. Naresh and his wife, Sangeeta, attended this simple ceremony alongside boy’s parents.

A couple of days ago, Naresh had shared on WhatsApp a beautiful invite for the reception they have planned here in Mumbai (on 13^th of this month). I, immediately, thanked him for the invite and confirmed, that my wife and I would, certainly, grace the occasion…

Yesterday, early in the morning, there was a call from Naresh… “Good morning Sir; hope, it’s not too early to call you.”

“Not at all, Naresh,” I said.

“Sir, though we have sent you the invite on WhatsApp, Sangeeta and I wanted to invite you and Anima, personally.”

Then, Naresh and Sangeeta invited me and my family personally. Sangeeta, also, spoke with Anima and invited her personally.

You may ask me: “What’s so special about this? Is it worthy of a blog?”

To my wife and me, it was special. Our day had started with a courteous gesture from our friends… We were touched, honoured.

Not many follow up with a courteous call after an invite is sent via WhatsApp. Some don’t even write a word… The digital invite is all…

Well, I am not trying to judge those who send the digital invite and leave it at that. They may be some of the finest people in our lives… But, I think, a personal touch would make our hearts feel a lot closer.

Agreed… Gone are the days of going to the residences personally (Sometimes, with a box of sweets, dry fruits, or presents)… and the head of the family having to do it… Such things are gone, extinct…

But, a personal invite –- a call –- isn’t too much to do, Sir. It does make the invitation special…

That’s early in the morning. At noon, my maid here at the Centre, Leela mousi, had come for work after a break of ten days. She had been to her native village, and, as always, she had brought for me something from her gaon: some chilkawala ground nuts (kaccha), homemade fry hums, and some fresh desi perus… Leeala mousi has been working here for more than thirty-five years… and, every time she makes a visit to her village, she remembers to bring for me these goodies…

Again, the big deal?

Yes Sir… To me, it is.

Then, in the evening, I sent a copy of my new blog book (‘FINDING EXTRAORDINARY IN THE ORDINARY) to Reema*, an ex-student of mine, now worked as a Chartered Accountant and a consultant. In a beautiful card, I had handwritten:

“Dearest Reema,

With warmest love and wishes.”

- Gerry Sir.”

I had sent this book and the card in a tastefully-done envelope, again addressing her personally, through her son Kapil* (presently, my student). After that, I sent a nice WhatsApp message to Reema:

‘Hello Reema. Hope all is well at your end. Kapil has been responding excellently. I am happy to share the soft copy of my new blog book of the ten-book series. I have sent the hard copy to you through Kapil this evening. Please read. Nine more will follow, one in every 3 months. Have a look and call me tomorrow when free. Wish to discuss more. Good night.”

Late at night, I saw this reply from Reema:

“I have been busy in the Annual closing. I don't promise for tomorrow, but may be next week.”

It’s late in the night. I closed the conversation:

“Ok Reema. Good night.”

A heart as a full stop, I did add…

However busy you may be in life, some of us still wish a personal touch in your messages. May be, it’s not the norm of the day… May be, every one out there isn’t a Naresh and Sangeeta… and, may be, Leela mousi’s thoughtful gesture has nothing to do with Chartered Accountancy, MBA or a PhD…

Today is Mother Mary’s birthday… Let’s sing the Beatles song:

“Let it be… “

*Names changed

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: Pixabay

Video: Diesel Country (The Beatles cover)

LIKE CARRYING A BACKPACK FULL OF ROCKS

2026-09-03T21:50:56.637+05:30

“The best preparation for tomorrow is

doing your best today.”

― H. Jackson Brown Jr.

While Jesus was dying on the cross, in pain and sorrow, the High Priests, the teachers of religious (Jewish) law, mocked him.“He saved others; but, he can’t save himself… Didn’t he claim, that he was the king of Israel? Let him come down from the cross right now, and we will believe in him…He said, ‘I am the Son of God.’ So, let his God rescue him now, if his God wants him.”

As a Christian, I am told in the Gospels, that Jesus knew of his painful end, and he, also, had foretold about his resurrection after three days of his crucifixion. Because, I was born in Christian faith, it’s easy for me to accept that fact.

But, if I am not a believer in Christ, perhaps, I might scoff him saying the same thing that the High Priests did: “Hello, you saved others; why can’t you save yourself now… If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross… I will then believe in you.”

Faith in God and Godmen is a strange phenomenon. I hear thousands of people scoff Sadhguru (Isha) similarly… “You promised Kailasa to your followers (at exorbitant fees)… They blindly trusted you… Why couldn’t you save them? Couldn’t you foresee the doom?”

Still, millions of his believers, including the families of the unfortunate souls, defend their Guru… “It’s not Guru’s fault… It’s purely an unfortunate natural calamity.”

Just as how Jesus was mocked, Sadhguru is mocked. Only difference between the two is: Jesus did not charge anything when he taught; Sadhguru did… Yes, heavily!

But, then, I am not interested in bringing faith in this post… To each, his own. My comment can be sacrilegious in the eyes of many around me…

So, let me leave the holy man from Nazarene and the holy man from Coimbatore alone…

Here is what I want to convey…

Just a few nights ago, some extremely-anxious thoughts were disturbing my sleep… I was worried about, yes, ‘tomorrow’… “What would happen?”… “What if that happens?”…

The next morning, I woke up with heaviness. I had a choice, to continue worrying, or, ‘act’.

I acted… One thing led to another… The fog began to disappear… The road became visible… helping me, also, to see: What I worried about, it was born out of fear. What manifested, it did out of my actions of faith…

I am laughing at what I had feared just a few nights before… I can hear what Vera Nazarian is saying:

“Would you like to know your future? If your answer is yes, think again. Not knowing is the greatest life motivator.
So, enjoy, endure, survive each moment as it comes to you in its proper sequence -- a surprise.”

GERALD D;CUNHA

Pic.: Pixabay 1. Jeff Tucker 2. Peggy Marco

Video: Aura Meditation

THE SEVENTH HABIT

2026-09-02T06:44:07.853+05:30

“In order to understand the world,

one has to turn away from it occasionally."

― Albert Camus

Shaina* has been a regular reader of my blogs. She would comment, too… Sometimes, in the Blogs… sometimes, on FB… and, sometimes, privately on WhatsApp. She had subscribed to the books which I am, presently, putting together from my blog articles (10 beautifully-designed books, one in every three months). About a week ago, I had couriered to her a hard copy of volume 1. Later, I messaged her, a couple of times, to check if she had received the copy. But, there wasn’t any response… I could, also, make out, that she hadn’t checked her messages.

So, yesterday, I sent another message to her, “Shaina, is everything ok?” This time, Shaina did reply:

“Gerry Sir… I am extremely sorry for being unresponsive.

I am ok; and thank you so much for checking on . It means a lot..

I have just been having a very hectic time last few months, both, on the professional and personal space… too many travels between time zones… mentally occupied way beyond capacity… I, actually, switched myself off from some social media for a bit..

Wish I could do away with them altogether. But, they are, also, one connect with my kids.”

I replied, instantly:

“Shaina, I can understand... Even Jesus Christ, in the midst of His frantic rounds of preaching, often, would leave the crowd alone, get into a boat, and just go away to be alone… ‘Self-care’ or ‘Nurturing one’s soul’ was how we called such a ‘retreat’... 'Sharpening the saw' was how Stephen Convey would call it (presenting it as the seventh habit in his pathbreaking book -- ‘The 7 Habits of Highly-effective People). In today’s social-media world, we call it ‘Digital detoxing’… Whatever it is called, you did the right thing by switching off to noise. Tcre.”

Too much noise… way beyond our mental capacity. So much information… way beyond our need. So much of FOMO –- Fear of missing out… Albert Camus rightly said:

“In order to understand the world,

one has to turn away from it occasionally."

*Name changed

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: ravensretreathockinghills.com

Video: Andre Rieu

IF YOU NEED TO STAND STILL, YOU NEED TO KEEP MOVING

2026-09-01T11:46:27.789+05:30

“A man grows most tired while standing still.”

— Chinese Proverbs

Many years ago, when I had asked a doctor friend of mine, “When are you getting settled”, his answer was hilarious. He jokingly said, “Only mud settles in life.”

Well, being a doctor, just an MBBS or an MD weren’t enough for a doctor. The world they lived in wanted them to keep adding one specialty or a super-specialty after another… and, therefore, my friend was tossing the familiar line from his profession: “Doctors don’t settle… Only mud settles in life.”

Anyway, I had innocently asked him, “Mere dost, tum shaadi kab koroge?”

Earlier, this friend had shared an interesting story with me…

“When the fishermen in Japan go to the deep seas, they erect huge water tanks aboard their launces to bring the fishes home alive. And, to doubly ensure that, they put some sharks into those tanks.”

I still remember that story… Every time I wake up in the morning, I remind myself with it… “Friend, no matter how you feel this morning, you better get up, dress up and show up.”

The day I feel, that at 68, I have worked enough, I have done enough, I have nothing else to explore -- and, I am not just talking about the financial stability alone… Yes, my unpaid bills are sharks God has put in my tank… I know, I know -- But, as the old saying goes, “If you need to stand still, you need to keep running (moving).”

I met this doctor friend after long time, a week ago. He had just started a new medical-care centre in partnership with some of his fellow-doctors. “Stabilised?” I asked him with my typical naivety. My friend gave me the same hilarious look, as if to remind me of the story of Japanese fishermen which he had narrated years ago…

Yes, my friend, I, also, remember what Georges St-Pierre said:

“Standing still is never a good option… Not in the ring, and not in life. When you stop moving, you're done.”

Let only mud settle in life. Let the rest of us keep moving…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: 1. ar.inspiredpencil.com 2. www.rawpixel.com

Video: Jean-Baptiste CHANDELIER

NAMO NAMO JI SHANKARA

2026-08-30T21:31:21.890+05:30

“Sometimes, God’s blessings are not in what He gives;

but, in what He takes away.”

-– Anonymous

Yesterday, a dear friend of my wife and me, Anisha, had invited us to watch the Marathi play –- ‘Mukkam Post Pandharpur’. As Anisha’s friend was one of the producers of the play, the front-row tickets were complimentary for us… We loved the play…

It’s the touching story of young army recruit, Mawli, who was born and brought up in the holy land of Vitthala (Lord Vishnu) –- ‘Pandharpur’ (near Sholapur). As another friend of mine has been undertaking the padyatra to Pandharpur every year (hundreds of kilometers), I knew how powerful such faith in Vitthala was. But, not for the protagonist of the play, Mawli. He didn’t have any faith in either Vitthala or any of His Vasudevas… He would argue angrily with whoever displayed devotion to Vitthala… To him, it was a blind faith… Vitthala was dead.

So, young Mawli, just after getting married, is posted at Siachen base. Soon, the news comes home, that he and his unit members are buried under a deadly avalanche… His wife and other family members are devastated… While everyone in the family and the neighbourhood has lost hope, the wife hasn’t… “He will come back… I have full faith in Vitthala,” she declares…

There, in the mountains, we see how miserably Mawli is trapped under a heavy weight of ice… He is alive; but, he is left with no strength, no help, all alone… He is struggling, he is remembering his wife and family… but, he is still unwilling to remember Vitthala…

Then, that unthinkable happens… Mawli is saved. But, by his fellow army men, or by Vitthala? By now, the icy heart has melted…

Mawli is home… to Pandharpur… ‘Vitthala, Vitthala…Vitthala’!

“On a sinking boat, there cannot be an atheist.” Well, strange are Vitthala’s ways!

As I was returning home after the play, my mind was flooded with the painful images of devastation in Nepal… What an irony it was! The hundreds of devotees, who were washed away and trapped under the avalanche of another kind, weren’t any hardened atheists like Mawli… They were indefatigable devotees of Lord Shiva… They had undertaken the long-cherished pilgrimage to His abode…

I am an insignificant human to question Lord’s ways… While it’s easy to shout at Shiva, “Why have you abandoned me?”… It’s, also, easy to find peace in times like this…

Yes, Lord’s ways are strange… Faith is strange… Coming Home is strange… The old proverb reminds us:

“Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over,

it became a butterfly.”

Lord, Thy will be done.

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: 1. www.alamy.com 2. www.indiadaily.com

Video: ZEE Music Company

GENUINE GEMS ARE RECOGNISED IN THE DARK

2026-08-29T13:06:25.463+05:30

“Genuine gems are recognized in the dark.”

― Kamaran Ihsan Salih

I may love writing and I may love reading. But, my friends, loved ones and well-wishers may or may not. And, I have learnt to say, “That’s perfectly fine.”

My love for writing and reading came only during my degree-college days. Before that, I was nowhere near the books or the pen. Typewriter and a computer were distant realities.

Thus, today, when I write relentlessly and read voraciously, and when my fellowmen don’t, I just continue saying, “That’s is perfectly fine.”

I, also, see little kids around me who are into a great deal of writing and reading, and I remind myself saying, “Hey, unlike these little kids, I bloomed late… and, that’s, also, perfectly fine.”

If only I learn to be kind to myself, I am able to be kind to others around me. Everyone around me needn’t feel good about himself/herself only through the ‘good habits’ of reading and writing…

An ex-student of mine, who is a dear friend now, is a HR head of an organization. Two years before Covid, she had contributed a small sum for our Centre. In gratitude, I kept sending many of our books to her address. Two days ago, I messaged her saying, that I would be sending a copy of my latest blog book (‘FINDING EXTRAORDINARY IN THE ORDINARY’). My friend sent this quick reply:

“Sir, I have a small request. Please don’t send anymore books for now. We haven’t been able to read the books you sent earlier; and, honestly, I feel quite bad about it. Because, I truly value the thought and effort behind your gesture. I would rather finish reading the books we already have, before receiving anymore. I hope you won’t mind.

And, sorry for the late response. I am late for home today, as well. Too much work pressure. You take care and give my regards to your family.”

I could clearly sense the honesty in my friend’s expression. I let her know, that she didn’t have to feel bad, as she wasn’t alone in not being able to read books as others would expect her to. But, I said, “In expressing your genuine feelings so honestly, you stand out from others.”

I remembered, how, when I had just developed a keen interest in reading and writing, an elderly nun, Sr. Lawrence, had travelled hundreds of miles –- from her convent to my remote village -- to personally gift me a brand-new edition of ‘New American Webster’s Encyclopedic Dictionary’. This nun was not related to me… She was a fellow-nun and a friend of my aunt (Dad’s sister) Sr. Leo. My aunt, apparently, had conveyed to Sr. Lawrence about my thirst for reading and writing. Hence, Sr. Lawrence (she and my aunt, both, are no more) decided to come all the way –- hundreds of miles away –- to gift me that treasure. It had a special section called Writers’ Guide, besides sections on Synonyms and Antonyms, Proverbs and Quotations, Etymology, and much, much more. Imagine, the thought that went behind that gesture… How I wish Sr. Lawrence and Sr. Leo were alive today to witness the impact of their generosity! The Universe had conspired and ensured, that the priceless treasure reached the deserving hands, hundreds of miles afar!

When our final-year B. Com exams approached, my friends, Joe, Paul and Johnny would spend nights at my place, so that they could learn Accountancy from me (Prof. Raman effect!). None of them had developed the thirst for reading or writing as I had. The New-found Treasure was inseparable from me… Johnny was a jolly-good-fellow. In the night, after all went off to sleep, he would quietly pluck a couple of beedis from my Dad’s pack… and amuse us saying this:

“Listen guys, when I die, remember to place a pack of beedis with a match box in my coffin; and, when this fellow (Gerry) dies, remember to place his Encyclopedic dictionary.”

We have no idea where is Johnny today… and, none of us can tell whether or not the first part of his wish will be fulfilled. But, I am still around, and hope the other part of Johnny’s prophecy will come true…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s.: Pixabay 1. Karolina Grabowska 2. StockSnap

Video: CBS Evening News

COAT OF MANY COLOURS

2026-08-28T10:59:50.966+05:30

“The way I see it, if you want the rainbow,

you gotta put up with the rain.”

- Dolly Parton

A couple of days ago, a lady called me seeking some help for her young son, her only child. She held a good position in a large organization. “Sir, my son is doing his grade 10 in so and so school (one of the sought-after ones). He is excellent in his studies, and communication… He is a voracious reader and writes, too, well. But, I want him to learn how to structure his presentations better, face interviews efficiently (for studies abroad, perhaps) and manage some of his anxiety…”

From my experience, parents of grade 10 students, normally, are so stuck with academics, that they don’t think about things like soft skills. But, here was a mother, who, apparently, wanted her young son to be ‘perfect’, the ‘best’. I tried to calm her down saying, “Ma’am, from what you said, I understand, that your son is a bright young boy. Trust me, he doesn’t need any additional help… Let him figure out those few things on his own.”

But, the mother was insistent. The next day, she came to see me along with her boy. Incidentally, there were four of my ex-students (all of them between the age 45 and 50). All of them had come from financially-struggling families, studied in local schools, done their higher studies alongside their jobs, and now were doing exceptionally well in life. Organically, they got involved in the discussion… They heard the mother and the son… and, unanimously, they said the same thing: “Ma’am, he already possesses what you are looking for.”

The boy was bright… He stole our hearts in those 20-30 minutes while he presented himself before us…

Then, what was that ‘missing something’, which would make this young boy ‘perfect’ or ‘the best'?

I was thinking about myself, and each of my so-called ‘successful’ ex-students were thinking about themselves, and we wondered: “If we have come this far with literally nothing at our disposal, won’t this kid go far despite having everything at his?”

Well, that’s how parenting and schooling are around us…

FOMO -– fear of missing out -- drives one crazy… It reminds me of the line:

“Knee-deep in water; yet, dying of thirst.”

Dolly Parton was one of my favourite Country singers. Two days ago, when she passed away at 80, several people were sharing one of her famous songs -– ‘Coat of Many Colours’…

I, too, was playing that song, here, over and over again… and, thinking about the clothes (not coats) that we wore and sandals we wore or didn’t wear… as kids. And, yes, I was thinking about these young kids and their Mamas around us…

I had started this Post with Dolly Parton’s words… Let me end, too, with them:

“The way I see it, if you want the rainbow,

you gotta put up with the rain.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: 1, Michael Luenen/Pixabay 2. Paul Natkin/Getty Images

Video: Dolly Parton

A 'HELLO' TO KAALI MAA

2026-08-27T18:10:25.543+05:30

“Gods, always, behave like the people who make them.”

— Zora Neale Hurston

I got curious when I came across the above quote. I read it a couple of times trying to comprehend what it wanted to convey…

Well, finally, the question kept haunting me: Do Gods make us, or do we make Gods?

Interesting, question… Isn’t it?

Two days ago, I had sent a copy of my new blog book (Volume 1) —‘FINDING EXTRAORDINARY IN THE ORDINARY’ to my friend Paromita’s residence (a Bengali). It’s her birthday, and she, being a great lover of books, was super thrilled to get a special present from me.

It was 10 am in the morning. “How’s been your special day?” I asked Paromita.

“Oh, exciting!” Paromita said transmitting to me her excitement over the phone. She continued, “I visited two Kaali maa temples… One was an easy entry for all. The other was located inside Anushakti Nagar (BARC colony)… The Security officer at the gate was strict and didn’t allow me when I told, that I wanted to visit Kaali maa’s temple.”

“So, how did you make it, then?” I asked my friend.

I sweetly told the young Security officer at the gate, “Sir, it’s my birthday, today… Don’t you want me to go and say ‘Hello’ to Kaali maa?”

“And, that did it?”

“Yes, yes… He melted, and wished me with a warm smile, ‘Happy b’day, madam… Please go in.’”

BARC Security is quite strict. Normally, one would get tense when stopped and behave offensively or defensively. But, Paromita behaved exactly how Goddess Kaali had made her –- honest, frank and enthusiastic…

So, once more, Zora Neale Hurston’s quote pops up before me, to check if it makes sense to me:

“Gods, always, behave like the people who make them.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: Wallpaper Access

Video: Sourendro Soumyojit

THE WHITE TEA CUP

2026-08-23T12:24:19.482+05:30

“The great thing about social media is

that it gives everyone a voice.

But, the trouble is, it’s, often, a very loud voice.”

- Mark Zuckerberg

While in college, I remember going to a particular restaurant (in my hometown, Mangalore) to enjoy the tea served there in the white cups. Somehow, that memory has stayed etched in my mind even after fifty years. I think, like this, each one of us has some soft memory spots…

Here in Mumbai, after my Sunday Tai Chi session, a friend of mine and I go for a simple cup of tea served in those white cups… Ah, that simple pleasure… those quiet old memories… and, above all, the peace in being anonymous in, otherwise, noisy world around!

This morning, I was amused to see a young man capturing his chai moment for his social media status. As I knew him and was connected with him on social media, I smiled when I saw his broadcast soon: “What a delight!”

While I am no one to judge this young man –- or any of those who post from their gym, dance and yoga classes, or kitchens -– I really wonder: how tough it’s for all of us to do things quietly… Like, when I visit a shrine, or grandparents’ place… is it possible for us to keep the ‘simple joy’ confined to our hearts? Is it necessary for us to broadcast?

Well, to each his own… If someone gets a great joy by broadcasting his cuppa, so be it… I am no one to judge him

Some days ago, when I had visited my hometown, I visited an old friend of mine with whom I shared literary interest. His wife was quite popular on YouTube and other social media with her Mangalorean culinary. But, of late, she had stopped being visible on YouTube or any social media platform.

“What happened?” I asked her.

“I was feeling lost in the crowd,” she replied without even blinking.

I had no further question to my friend’s wife…

On our way back, after our morning cuppa, my friend was telling me this: “There is a thin like between desire and greed.”

I didn’t say anything. Instead, I let my friend’s words settle well in my heart… quietly.

After all, it’s an age-old truth… By disputing it, or by adding or deducting, I would only ruin an opportunity to grow a little, and stay tuned to my core values…

The white tea cup… Let it not get lost in the crowd, in the loud noise…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: 1. Pixabay/Lupooo 2. AveCalvar

Video: Solo Hands

THE END OF ANGER IS THE BIRTH OF COMPASSION

2026-08-18T13:33:43.393+05:30

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls;

the most miserable have become

the most compassionate.”

- Kahlil Gibran

A while ago, I was talking to an elderly woman on phone. Though she lives with her family, she sounded a lot ‘alone’…

I said, ‘a lot alone’…

It took a long time for me to know how different are ‘being lonely’ and ‘being alone’…

For all of us, ‘being lonely’ is how it starts… Our daily conflicts, disappointments, regrets, misunderstandings, fights, struggles, and lack of trust and love –- yes, that’s where the loneliness sets into our hearts… We resist, we blame, we argue, we live in self-pity and denial… and we keep living in that state till we realize the futility of all this –- living in victimhood.

Lack of trust and anger slowly turn into poison. Frankly, till we do not realize it –- how poisonous our heats have turned –- there is no way we can realize how ‘being lonely’ is different from ‘being alone’…

So, the elderly woman was telling me, “At this stage of my life, being peaceful is more important to me than being right. I cannot change a lot many things, and a lot many people, in my life… I have stopped waiting for my Life to change and realized how my life is waiting for me to change.”

Several years ago, I had published a book by the title – ‘WHY THE SUN BURNS’. This was a book of my reflections… Notes. In one of them, I had written:

“I have no intention to glorify anger;

anger is intensity, and intensity burns…

Even God spoke from a burning bush.”

In another note, I had written:

“The light doesn’t emerge

unless the candle burns.

It’s not my wish that I should suffer

to spread a little goodness around.”

And, this one was my favourite:

“The end of anger is the birth of compassion.”

Has my anger ended?

No Sir… I am still alive… Anger returns again and again… and, I keep feeling it, expressing it… and, I get over it…

Yes Sir, to accommodate compassion…

And, how else can I choose peace?

Life waits for me to realize it, and change from inside…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: Pixabay 1. GoranH 2. erwinbosman

Video: Reflections of Life

THE TIME TO LET GO THE POLE

2026-08-16T13:06:04.325+05:30

“Stillness is the language God speaks,

and all else is a bad translation.”

— Eckhart Tolle

I met this doctor friend of mine after many years when I rejoined the Tai Chi classes. He is a gentle soul; and his presence and speech, always, have a calming effect on me. Every Sunday morning, after our Tai Chi session, we both sit in a nearby Mani’s restaurant for a simple cup of tea… During those few minutes there, we discuss anything that is simple and light…

But, I don’t know if what we discussed this morning was simple and light…

One of the relatives of my doctor friend (Age 56) is at a terminal stage of cancer. She and her husband have come (from Dubai) to stay at the residence of my doctor friend for undergoing Chemotherapy in one of the hospitals in Mumbai.

“Presence of loved ones around can help the recovery process,” I said.

“That’s true,” said my friend, “However, one can be lonely even when surrounded by several loved ones around. Inner issues need to be resolved.”

I agreed…

“I, always, give the example of Pole Vault,” my doctor friend continued, “The running is our efforts; the pole is our knowledge; but, when we reach the peak, we need to let go the pole, so that we can land where we are supposed to.”

I could see the point my friend was trying to make… I could see how difficult for most of us to leave the pole when on top –- control, clinging, attachments… these are our obstacles to feel light… feel truly accomplished.

Knowledge –- all kinds of it –- has to be dropped when we assume, that it’s at the peak…

“That’s the meaning of Vedanta –- the end of the knowledge,” my doctor friend concluded, as I wondered if what Steve Maraboli said was related to Pole Vault:

“Cry. Forgive. Learn. Move on.

Let your tears water the seeds of your future happiness.”

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: thesportsmag.org

Video: Tales by Monisha 2.0

LEARNING ABOUT THE ABILITY TO LEARN

2026-08-06T09:13:06.557+05:30

“The capacity to learn is a gift;

the ability to learn is a skill;

the willingness to learn is a choice.”

— Brian Herbert

Learning shouldn’t stop. This means, we should be lifelong learners. But, then, there are thousands of things out there, which we won’t be able to learn…

Did I say, “We won’t be able to learn”?

Yes, I did…

For, as Brian Herbert says, “The ability to learn is a skill.”

And, skills need to be honed, developed, finetunes –- either on our own (self-develop, like Ekalavya did), or under some experts and trainers…

What is interesting to note is, that our ability to learn (skill) is sandwiched between our capacity to learn (gift/talent) on one side, and our willingness to learn (choice) on the other…

How interesting!

Take swimming for example. I think, I am capable of learning it, and I am, certainly, able to learn it. But, if I have no willingness to learn it, it clearly tells, it is because I make that choice -- not to learn. This lucidly explains why this blogger has not done swimming in his 68 years even though he lived for more than 28 years in housing societies which had swimming pools and trainers…

Willingness to learn is a choice, Sir… I have learnt this lesson well even though I haven’t learnt swimming!

Let me take another example –- teaching and writing. In my late teens, I became aware of this gift (talent). Mark this: I woke up to my hidden gift/talent…

So, the first thing in learning anything is to realize you are capable –- you possess that gift/talent… Unless that ‘awakening’ happens, learning, too, doesn’t…

Now, I have already told this: I know I am capable, I know I am able to develop the skill… but, if I am unwilling to learn…

Yes, it is the end of the learning road…

Yesterday, while holding a session at a premier college of architecture in Mumbai, a young student asked: “Sir, where does the ability to learn fall –- under talent, or skill?”

For years, I have been telling young ones, that to develop self-confidence, they needed to feel worthwhile… Become aware of their your talents, skills, strengths and weaknesses.

The young boy was sincere… He wanted to learn… But, I did not want him to take home the ability to learn with a label attached to it… I wanted him, and two hundred young students out there, to pause, think and enquire -- where did the ability to learn fall…

Thus, I said, “It’s a blessing.”

I don’t know, if this budding architect and his fellow-students took home the lesson…

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: Pixabay: 1. tarasyasinski 2. sasint

Video: elephantnews

GET BUSY LIVING, OR GET BUSY DYING

2026-08-02T21:49:24.168+05:30

“We don’t see things as they are,

we see them as we are.”

— Anaïs Nin

This morning, I met an old friend after several years. When he told me where he presently lived, I exclaimed, “Wow, that’s one of the most prominent locations.”

“That’s what everyone says; but, not we who live there,” my friend said.

The building, as I said, was located at one of the most expensive areas. The ground floor housed luxurious clothing and jewelry brands. Each floor had just one huge flat… Each flat owner possessed a matching car, as well…

Then, why was my friend saying, “but, not we who live there”?

My friend explained: “Ours may be a hot property and we may be owing flats worth several crores… But, the irony is, that we can possess only one car even if we can afford to own more… To park our cars, to get them out and to get them in… it’s our daily challenge. Then, there is noise, dust, and endless honking… Visitors have to park their cars almost a mile away and come walking… We dread to think of the emergency situations… My family is seriously thinking of moving somewhere else.”

Earlier this morning, another friend of mine, whose husband held a ‘prominent’ position in one of the coveted companies, wrote this in her message:

“Wanted to give you this update: We have just moved to interior Pune. My husband has had enough of corporate life and wanted to break.”

Prominent, lucrative, luxurious, coveted, expensive… honestly, these are only labels we give to our possessions based on how we view our lives, and what we deeply value…

During the explosive Gen-Z protests in Delhi and elsewhere in the country, we, suddenly, found inside our own house heated arguments… Our house –- yes, it housed only three of us… my wife, our young son, and this 68-year-old man. Each of us had a rocky belief and, accordingly, we were arguing as to how things had to be… But, amidst all this heated discussion, we were not able to – rather, willing to -- keep aside our respective perspective and see things from a quieter perspective… The world appeared, through our rigid lenses, either pitch black or pristine white…

No one conceded… Inside our house, or outside…

No one was willing to heal, or get healed…

“If it’s so difficult for three people inside their own house to see the situation in a saner, calmer and accommodating way, how on earth, could one expect a nation of 140 crores to do it?”… I really wondered.

The next morning, in our three-member family group, our young son left this old reminder for his parents:

Yes Sir, when our defenses are down and our hearts are open, we are able to understand why the wise have said, that our perspectives can be either our prisons, or our passports.

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s.: 1. Pixabay.com 2. Unknown/Anaïs Nin

Video: TNT

COUNTING OUR OWN BLESSINGS

2026-07-30T17:38:16.182+05:30

“Envy is the art of counting the other fellow’s blessings

instead of your own.”

― Harold Coffin

‘Thou shall not covet.’ This was the last of the Ten Commandments. When our Sunday-school teacher tried to explain to us the meaning of the word ‘Covet’, I don’t remember getting it. With time, I understood the term referred to ‘lust’ -– an obsession with what rightfully didn’t belong to us. Thus, I kept adding to this ‘lust list’ –- ‘Thou shall not covet thy neighbours’ wealth, spouse, success, and whatever that’s his.

For long, I wasn’t able to follow the Tenth Commandment… To be specific: ‘Thou shall not covet thy neighbours’ success’. When my neighbour succeeded, I would simply feel jealous of him… Oh, that familiar feeling of being a small person, a loser!

Trust me, this feeling of inadequacy lasted for many years in my life. Then, a time came, when I started rejoicing in my neighbours’ success… I started seeing him as myself –- his success/glory as my own…

And, that’s the end of my envy… My pettiness. My inadequacy.

‘Count your blessings’… Well, as the quote mentioned at the outset tells, when we count our neighbours’ blessings (ignoring our own), we do it out of envy. No matter, how hard we try to envy others, it won’t make us any greater… Envy leaves us perennially in a pit called ‘lack’…

It’s misery… It’s poverty of our soul…

So, for quite some time, now, I have started focusing on my own blessings… however small they seem. Yes, my little blessings -– when I count them, recognize and appreciate them, be grateful for them, and celebrate them, I feel very successful and fulfilled in life…

To be fulfilled in life, we do not need any external yardsticks -– how much our fellow humans achieve or accumulate… We just need our own internal yardsticks.

I feel blessed, that I could touch lives of not only students whom I taught academic subjects, but also to a cross-section of people –- little ones, young ones, and adults… I feel blessed, that I could do it from inside my classroom as well as outside… I feel blessed, that I could write my simple stories and reach people near and far, known people and strangers…

Yes, when I bring my focus on my own blessings –- envy dissolves.

The obsession to grow bigger… well, after a certain point in life, it leaves us high and dry… perennially starving. For, that goalpost is outside… forever illusive.

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic.: Pixel/Nataliya Vaitkevich

Video: Surf Excel