I usually read Sunday Times' editorial page and whatever interests me in that page. Sometimes, I read Shashi Taroor's column - "SHASHI ON SUNDAY". This week's column was awesome, and the very first paragraph evoked some thought in me - a significant thought which we all seldom would have thought of. Instead of giving a briefing about the column, I am just Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V-ing the first paragraph and that, I hope will make you think as well.
"Why do we celebrate birthdays? This is a perfectly serious question, prompted by the fact that today happens to be mine. I will receive cards, phone calls and messages of congratulation from family and friends, all for having accomplished - what exactly? Nothing more than merely emerging 52 years ago. Whereas the person who did all the hard work that day, the one whose effort and sacrifice and pain resulted in the fortuitous event - my mother - will be ignored by all and sundry. She will go to the temple, as usual, and feed the poor, as she has done on each of her children's birthdays for decades. But no one will congratulate her for what she accomplished on that March Shivratri day more than five decades ago. Instead, the tributes will come to the lease deserving beneficiary: the person whose only real challenge on that occasion was to be able to manage to breathe."
Did it invoke some thought in you too….?
And, if the first paragraph calls for some serious emotional thought, the last paragraph was really funny (at least for me). Here's Shashi saying…
"Of course, the bat is now a bit worn, smudged both from the fours that went off the meat of the bat and the nicks and edges that accompanied your scoring, but you're still there and the great cosmic umpire doesn’t seem to be readying to raise his finger. Fifty-two not out!"
Good one from Shashi! :)
