Class does not mean huge possession of money.

 Last year, I was at the Heathrow International Airport in London about to board a flight. Usually, I wear a sari even when I am abroad, but I prefer wearing a salwar kameez while travelling. So there I was—a senior citizen dressed in typical Indian apparel at the terminal gate.

Since the boarding hadn’t started, I sat down and began to observe my surroundings. The flight was bound for Bengaluru and so I could hear people around me chatting in Kannada. I saw many old married couples of my age—they were most likely coming back from the US or UK after helping their children either through childbirth or a new home. I saw some British business executives talking to each other about India’s progress. Some teenagers were busy with the gadgets in their hands while the younger children were crying or running about the gate.

After a few minutes, the boarding announcement was made and I joined the queue. The woman in front of me was a well-groomed lady in an Indo-Western silk outfit, a Gucci handbag and high heels. Every single strand of her hair was in place and a friend stood next to her in an expensive silk sari, pearl necklace, matching earrings and delicate diamond bangles.

I looked at the vending machine nearby and wondered if I should leave the queue to get some water.

Suddenly, the woman in front of me turned sideways and looked at me with what seemed like pity in her eyes. Extending her hand, she asked, ‘May I see your boarding pass, please?’ I was about to hand over my pass to her, but since she didn’t seem like an airline employee, I asked, ‘Why?’

‘Well, this line is meant for business class travellers only,’ she said confidently and pointed her finger towards the economy class queue. ‘You should go and stand there,’ she said.

I was about to tell her that I had a business class ticket but on second thoughts, held back. I wanted to know why she had thought that I wasn’t worthy of being in the business class. So I repeated, ‘Why should I stand there?’

She sighed. ‘Let me explain. There is a big difference in the price of an economy and a business class ticket. The latter costs almost two and a half times more than . . .’

‘Exactly,’ said the woman. ‘So there are certain privileges that are associated with a business class ticket.’

‘Really?’ I decided to be mischievous and pretended not to know.

‘What kind of privileges are you talking about?’

She seemed annoyed. ‘We are allowed to bring two bags but you can only take one. We can board the flight from another, less-crowded queue. We are given better meals and seats. We can extend the seats and lie down flat on them. We always have television screens and there are four washrooms for a small number of passengers.’

Her friend added, ‘A priority check-in facility is available for our bags, which means they will come first upon arrival and we get more frequent flyer miles for the same flight.’

‘Now that you know the difference, you can go to the economy line,’ insisted the woman.

‘But I don’t want to go there.’ I was firm.

The lady turned to her friend. ‘It is hard to argue with these cattle-class people. Let the staff come and instruct her where to go. She isn’t going to listen to us.’

I didn’t get angry. The word ‘cattle class’ was like a blast from the past and reminded me of another incident.

One day, I had gone to an upscale dinner party in my home city of Bengaluru. Plenty of local celebrities and socialites were in attendance. I was speaking to some guests in Kannada, when a man came to me and said very slowly and clearly in English, ‘May I introduce myself ? I am . . .’

It was obvious that he thought that I might have a problem understanding the language.

I smiled. ‘You can speak to me in English.’

‘Oh,’ he said, slightly flabbergasted. ‘I’m sorry. I thought you weren’t comfortable with English because I heard you speaking in Kannada.’

‘There’s nothing shameful in knowing one’s native language. It is, in fact, my right and my privilege. I only speak in English when somebody can’t understand Kannada.’

The line in front of me at the airport began moving forward and I came out of my reverie. The two women ahead were whispering among themselves, ‘Now she will be sent to the other line. It is so long now! We tried to tell her but she refused to listen to us.’

When it was my turn to show my boarding pass to the attendant, I saw them stop and wait a short distance away, waiting to see what would happen. The attendant took my boarding pass and said brightly, ‘Welcome back! We met last week, didn’t we?’

‘Yes,’ I replied.

She smiled and moved on to the next traveller.

I walked a few steps ahead of the women intending to let this go, but then I changed my mind and came back.

‘Please tell me—what made you think that I couldn’t afford a business class ticket? Even if I didn’t have one, was it really your prerogative to tell me where I should stand? Did I ask you for help?’

 The women stared at me in silence.

‘You refer to the term “cattle class”. Class does not mean possession of a huge amount of money,’ I continued, unable to stop myself from giving them a piece of my mind.

‘There are plenty of wrong ways to earn money in this world. You may be rich enough to buy comfort and luxuries, but the same money doesn’t define class or give you the ability to purchase it. Mother Teresa was a classy woman. So is Manjul Bhargava, a great mathematician of Indian origin. The concept that you automatically gain class by acquiring money is an outdated thought process.’ 

I left without waiting for a reply.

“Class does not mean huge possession of money. ”

‘There’s nothing shameful in knowing one’s native language. It is, in fact, my right and my privilege. I only speak in English when somebody can’t understand Kannada.’

Source: “Three thousand Stitches” by Sudha Murty. 

GLASS OF MILK:

 One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school, found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry. He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house. However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door. Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water! 

She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk. He drank it so slowly, and then asked, How much do I owe you?"

You don't owe me anything," she replied. "Mother has taught us never to accept pay for a kindness."

He said ... "Then I thank you from my heart."

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically, but his faith in God and man was strong also. He had been ready to give up and quit.

Many years later that same young woman became critically ill. The local doctors were baffled. They finally sent her to the big city, where they called in specialists to study her rare disease. Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation. When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes. Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room. Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her. He recognized her at once. He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life. From that day he gave special attention to her case. After a long struggle, the battle was won.

Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval. He looked at it, and then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room. She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all. Finally she looked, and something caught her attention on the side of the bill. She read these words ...

"Paid in full with one glass of milk"

(Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed: "Thank You, God, that your love has spread broad through human hearts and hands."

The Calamity is a wake-up Call

Finally we are out of the jaws of Taukte cyclone. If you look at the frequency and severity of the number of cyclones happening in the Arabian Sea, we can observe that, there is a considerable increase in the last few years, which means that Arabian Sea also started showing terrific signs of climatic change hazard. That means, considering the increase in the carbon footprint and also due to other man made reasons, they are going to increase only; that means that our lives are going to be in Jaws of such intense cyclones more often; which means that the probability that many of our near and dear ones losing life due to the effects of climate change is going to rise.

This time and the last few times, our prayers have been answered by nature, but that may not be always the case. These calamities has to be seen as a wake-up call for us to take swift action. If we we ignore such wake-up calls, we may take ourselves to a point where no corrective action can revert the situation. If you really look into the statistics, that "no-revert" point is actually very close. it's actually staring at us point blank. It's like Now or Never situation.

My suggestion to all all those who have earnestly prayed for safety from the cyclone is to take strong promises that we will preserve our mother nature. It should be from an individual level. The time, where we can think that, the Government or other NGOs will do that, is all over. It's all over guys. So wake up at least now. The attitude to such a wake-up call situation could be: 1. We escaped this time, and we would escape similarly always. 2. I don't pray for my life and that of my dear ones; everybody will die one day; So I am not going to change my lifestyle. 3. Nature has given enough warnings. So let me take intense action and make it the priority of my life. Nature has answered my prayers many times. So it's my responsibility to act my part in the corrective process.

 In fact, nature does not want you and me to protect her. If we don't behave responsibly, our story will be done forever and nature will be as much a better place without you and me. Nothing is going to happen for nature. The air, the water, the rivers and animals will have a better place without us

So, if we wish to survive as a species, we should make the correction in our lifestyle the highest priority of our lives. At the micro level, what exactly is the correction, is yet another big topic to ponder. But the first and foremost, is the shift in attitude, taking the "U" turn before the time expires for that too. 

The Beautiful Little Tea Cup

Love this story or not, you will not be able to have tea in a tea cup again without thinking of this.
There was a couple who took a trip to England to shop in a beautiful antique store to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. They both liked antiques and pottery, and especially teacups.Spotting an exceptional cup, they asked "May we see that? We've never seen a cup quite so beautiful." 

As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup spoke, "You don't understand. I have not always been a teacup.There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay. My master took me and rolled me, pounded and patted me over and over and I yelled out, "Don't do that.
I don't like it! Let me alone," but he only smiled, and gently said, "Not yet."
Then WHAM!
I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was made to suit himself and then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door. "Help! Get me out of here!"
I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from side to side, "Not yet."
When I thought I couldn't bear it another minute, the door opened. He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf and I began to cool. Oh, that felt so good! "Ah, this is much better," I thought.
But, after I cooled he picked me up and he brushed and painted me all over. 
The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. 
"Oh, please, stop it, stop, I cried." He only shook his head and said, "Not yet."
Then suddenly he puts me back in to the oven.
Only it was not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I just knew I would suffocate. 
I begged.
I pleaded.
I screamed.
I cried.
I was convinced I would never make
it. I was ready to give up.
Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf, where I cooled and waited and waited, wondering, "What's he going to do to me next?"
An hour later he handed me a mirror and said, "Look at yourself." And I did.
I said, "That's not me. That couldn't be me. It's beautiful. I'm beautiful!"
Quietly he spoke: "I want you to remember. I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted, but had I just left you alone, you'd have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled.
I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. 
I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn't done that, you never would have had any color in your life. If I hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't have survived for long because the hardness would not have held.
Now you are a finished product. Now you are what I had in mind when I first began with you."
God knows what He's doing for each of us. He is the potter, and we are His clay.
He will mould us and make us and expose us to just enough pressures of just the right kinds that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His good, pleasing and perfect plan.
So when life seems hard, and you are being pounded and patted and pushed almost beyond endurance; when your world seems to be spinning out of control; when you feel like you are in a fiery furnace of trials; when life
seems to "stink", try this.
Brew a cup of your favorite tea in your prettiest tea cup, sit down and think on this story and then, have a little talk with the Potter.