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After seventeen years of marriage, a man dumped his wife for a younger
woman. The downtown luxury apartment was in his name and he wanted to remain there with his new love, so he asked his wife to move out and said he would buy her another place later.

                 The wife agreed to this, but asked that she be given three days. The first day she packed her personal belongings into boxes and crates and suitcases. On the second day, she had the movers come and collect her things. On the third day, she sat down for the last time at their candlelit dining table, soft music playing in the background, and feasted alone on shrimp and a bottle of Chardonnay.
                  When she had finished, she went into each room and deposited shrimp
leftovers into the hollow of her curtain rods. She then cleaned up the kitchen and left.
                   Her husband returned with his new girl, and decided to make a four- poster bed; so he pulled down curtain rods painted them and used them as support. All was bliss for the first few days for his new wife and himself. Then it started, slowly but surely. Clueless, the man could not explain why the place smelled as it did.
                    They tried everything. First they cleaned and mopped and aired the place out. That didn’t work.

                     Then they checked vents for dead rodents. Still no luck.

                     They steam cleaned the carpets and hung air fresheners.
                     That didn’t solve the problem.

                     They hired exterminators; still no good. They ripped out the carpets and replaced them. But the smell lingered.
                       Finally, they could take it no more and decided to move. The moving
company packed everything except the heavy four poster bed and moved it all to a new place and since his former wife had nowhere to go and as part of the settlement she moved back to her old place.

“House smells!” says her husband as he moves out and she moves in.

“Oh yeah!” laughs the woman, and as you laugh knowing what happened with her trying to imagine where the stink was coming from, not realizing it was her own curtain rods now part of four poster bed, remember revenge is always a poor option if we want to be healthy and happy.
                  The problem is we want to hit back but revenge is like a boomerang it comes back to you and if you’re not a boomerang expert it hits you pretty hard.
                   Some resentments are large; they’ve built up over a long time and will
not be easy to part with. Some have been fed by years of pain and anger, but all the more reason to give them up.
                   If you’re tired of being hit back with your own anger and resentment and bitterness, you can choose a better way. Be forever unhappy, or be healthy. It’s difficult living with the smell of revenge. It stinks..!

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I’m not sure these reality shows are really reality shows. You have a group of people, confine them within a limited space for a long, long period of time and watch them go to pieces, what’s real about that?

                          Is that how the real world is?

                          In fact if you’re that keen on behavior when closed in together go to the Byculla Zoo or Rani Baug as it’s locally called:

“Look at that lion walking up and down, he looks angry!”

“Ask him why he’s angry!”

“Why are you angry Mr Lion?”

“That racist monkey called me an African!”

“But you are from Africa!”

“You’re also a racist!” roars the lion.

                          Now that’s frustration! Not too different from a reality show is it, where humans in cages, strung nerves, pushed, stretched, and pummeled scream at each other embittered, vexed and irritated, discriminating against each other till we scream with joy; “Racist!”

                          Of course she’s a racist, so are most of us and under intense duress and stress that which we hide so well, comes to the surface doesn’t it? Which is what the show is all about; to show gleeful spectators, frontal view of nasty, foul, hateful, low down qualities. 

                          What intrigues me is why politicians are suddenly interested in taking part. It’s certainly not the money I’m sure, what’s it then that’s got them convinced it’s a good place to be in?

“Why do you want to be part of this show sir?”

“To show we are already big bosses!”

“How’s that?”

“You just said reality shows bring out the basic, meaner parts in people, didn’t you?”

“Yes I did!”

“Politics has already done that to us. We are mean, low and pretty basic and so will have a head start over the others. Ha, ha, ha! It won’t take a month to say what that Goody woman said to our Shilpa, I’ll do it on first day itself! Just imagine a show with me in it:” I did.

“Hello sir,” says one of the female contestants as she walks in with the cameras on, “Did you sleep well?”

“How I sleep well when you not sleep with me, tomorrow night we sleep together I will pay you for every minute, or if you want to join politics, I will get you party ticket! Any party!”

                             I left the politician quickly, but found him following behind, “You like my reality?”

“It was scandalous!” I whispered.

“Like I said,” said the politician thumping his chest like Usain Bolt, “we are the true Big Bosses, politics trains us for any reality show..!”

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“….O Lord, help me not despise or oppose what I do not understand….”         

                                                                                                  ~William Penn

“No news, no scoop, expose or piece of gossip I can use on the front page,” grumbled the editor of one of the biggest newspapers in India to his deputy.

                            His deputy grinned, “When there’s no news we make news sir!”

“And how d’ you intend doing that today my young man?”

“This Haywood chap fleeing the country would make good front page!”

“Everybody knows he’s innocent!” yawned the editor, “nobody’s interested in him anymore, including the police!”

“We’ll rake up interest sir!”

“How?”

“Link him with terror! Say he was in touch with jehadis!”

“Even the police will laugh at you!”

“But the people won’t. We’ll do a Hitler on the public: Pull out the minority card and make them feel insecure.”

“Haywood is not a Muslim.”

“He attends a church in Sanpada. Attack the church; call it a fanatic sect!”

“Fanatic?”

“Yes fanatic.”

“Fanaticism and fundamentalism sell well.” mused the editor his face breaking into a grin.

“Say he belongs to a fanatic sect that has close links with a fundamentalist religious group.”

“Brilliant!” said the editor.

“And sir.”

“Yes?”
“Get our cartoonist on the job.”

“You want a cartoon of Haywood?”

“Looking like Osama Bin Laden!”

“This is getting better and better.” smiled the editor rubbing his hands, “Can you imagine our paper tomorrow? While other newspapers carry boring stories on…”

“Sushil Kumar’s bronze!”

“Vijender Singh’s medal!”

“We will sell more copies with what we’ve created in this office..!”

                                   Prejudice sold well yesterday, didn’t it?

                                   I’m not here to defend Haywood; our police I’m sure know better. I believe it is the duty of us scribes to mend and heal areas of discord and pray readers have wisdom to recognize and ignore those writers who light, kindle and fan the fires of communal disharmony.       

                                   Many years ago a traveler was coming at twilight to a camping place, when he looked into the distance and saw a strange object. Through the gathering dusk it seemed to take the shape of a terrible monster.

                                   He pulled out his knife in fear and waited to see what it was. It drew nearer and he saw it was a man. Much of his fear vanished, thereupon, he looked closer and found that not only was the object a man like himself, but that it was his own brother..!

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It was a photograph in a daily that made me wince today; a big cheque, nearly two feet long by a foot wide, handed over by an actor to the father of a sick child. I’m sure if they could have made the cheque bigger they would have, if they could have had brighter spotlights and got photo in all the dailies they would have done that also.

                     It was a big cheque with big publicity.

                     Why? I asked myself do we need to make ‘giving’ such a public event?

                     Can’t we do charity quietly?

                     Don’t we realise that in the very glare of the camera the act of charity is not charity anymore: That the whole act is a publicity gimmick?                                                

                      After the great Chicago fire of 1871, D.L. Moody went to New York to solicit funds for its victims. When he arrived in the big city he was introduced to a wealthy man who was reported to be very generous. Impressed by the great need in Chicago, the man gave Moody a cheque for a large sum of money.

                     He then directed Moody to several other men in the area who also gave large contributions. When Mr Moody was about to leave, he shook the benefactors hand and made this his parting comment. “If you ever come to Chicago, be sure to call on me. I’d like to tell the people of Chicago who you are and what you have done for them.”  

                       “Mr Moody,’ said the man, “Don’t ever wait for me to come for I don’t ever want you to tell them who I am, tell them to return the favour to anyone who is in need.”

                      That man was the kind of giver who pleases God. Moved by the needs of others, he willingly gave of his means to alleviate suffering. He didn’t give to gain attention or to satisfy his ego.”

                      He gave for the love of giving.

                     And that should be our only reason to give.

                      Let us stop this new hypocrisy of these huge cut out cheques, spotlights and photographers and let us quietly give to those who need.

                      Why is it we crave publicity when we give? Because we are afraid that without the glare of lights the whole thing is a bad investment?

                     What about an experiment?

                      Start giving without publicity. Quietly, without telling even your spouse. Just give and give generously. Don’t expect anything in return. Just give because your heart is in the act.

                      Then watch.

                       You will be blessed a hundred, nay a thousand times more than you have given. Go on try it out, and watch as a God above showers his giving on you..!

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