COMETH THE MAN

IN the 1948 England vs South Africa test series, in the first test at Kingsmead, Durban, England needed eight runs off the last eight-ball over, with nos.9 and 10 at the crease. In fading light and on a drying wicket that was giving the bowlers every assistance, England got home after a leg-bye was scored off the last ball of the game, when the ball struck the no.10, Cliff Gladwin, on the thigh and a single was scrambled. The Derbyshire bowler is remembered mostly for this batting feat and his immortal words: "Coometh the hour, coometh the man." As to whether he created the phrase or had heard it before - that is anyone's guess.

How is the urgent danger staved off by the arrival of just the right man at just the right time? Happy accident or the hand of fate?

It was a cold morning in late November when I along with five of my colleagues was trekking up to the Rohtang Pass situated at an elevation of 3,978 m (13,050 ft)) on the eastern Pir Panjal Range of the Himalayas around 51 km from Manali. The pass lies on the watershed between the Chenab and Beas basins and connects the Kullu Valley with the Lahaul and Spiti Valley.

It was a clear day and the sky was so blue and looked so close that you actually could touch it if you raised your hand. Though the sun shone brightly, it was freezing cold. There was thick cover of snow all over and it was remarkably quiet.  We had crossed Marhi and were moving slowly to reach the origin point of Beas atop Rohtang Pass. At least that is what we had planned. The snow was hard set and at places it was very slippery. Most of us having no experience of mountaineering were making very careful moves.

The Rani Nala glacier point on way to Rohtang Pass was covered with snow. We did not know that it remained snow clad throughout the year; sometimes the snow fall being as high as 20 feet. I did not even know that it was a frozen glacier. Well, while crossing the Nala we came across a long ledge of about 20 feet or so. It was a narrow strip and had a straight drop of about 500 feet or so below. Leaning and putting our weight on the snow covered mountain side, we all negotiated it. It must have been past noon.

All of a sudden the weather changed. Strong winds started blowing. The sky turned gray and the temperature dropped several degrees. It felt very very ominous. A blizzard was surely on the anvil.  All of us then decided to return as fast as we could because we apprehended that we might get stranded in that snow or blown away by the gusty winds now gaining a fierce velocity with every passing minute. So we all turned back and started walking as fast under the circumstances as we could with winds occasionally throwing us off balance. As we came on the narrow ledge over the Rani Nala that we had crossed on our way up some time back, we discovered to our horror that the narrow ledge had become narrower with only a scarcely visible strip that could at best hold the size of a shoe. The sharp drop looked deeper. Three of them ahead of me somehow crossed it one by one. There was no space to walk abreast. I was the next to follow. As I stepped on to that strip and was trying to negotiate it, the worse happened.  I lost balance and slipped half way through. While I was holding on to the narrow strip of the ledge with one knee, my other leg was dangling down towards the gorge. In a split second this horrible spectre of falling in to the deep gorge of the glacier and dying a snowy death loomed large on me. Shifting my weight on to the snow covered mountain slope, I dug my fingers in to the snow. Soon my hands went numb and lost sensation. There was a wrenching pain in my arms and body and it felt like I was paralyzed. I was fast giving up hope of surviving. I closed my eyes. I can’t remember if I prayed.

Suddenly a firm hand caught me from my arm and saying something that sounded like words of encouragement, put me back on my feet and holding my hand led me across, for what felt like an eternity, to the safe ground. My entire body was frozen partly with cold and partly with panic, shock and the fear of death. This was the first time I experienced the cold sweat. This was the first time I saw the possibility of death so closely staring in my face.  

Who was this angel? He was a local from Lahul valley going across to the Manali side. His familiarity with the terrain and weather conditions saved me.  Thank God he was there.

Where do these angels come from? How is the urgent danger staved off by the arrival of just the right man at just the right time? Happy accident or the hand of fate?

About a quarter of a century back a relative of mine was admitted to Apollo Hospital Chennai for a heart bypass surgery. Unlike today’s medical advancement in this field, it was an event extraordinaire back in those days. I had to rush to Chennai to be by his side as he was all alone and his family was in Sibsagar district of Assam where was currently posted. The operation was to take place in two days’ time. Besides being with the patient during visiting hours, I had no other occupation. So one afternoon I decided to call on the Police Commissioner of Chennai. A very senior officer with big handlebar moustaches he defied the forbidding image of a tough cop by his gentle manners. I had briefly met him on another occasion. I was received with warmth and cordiality by him and over a cup of filtered coffee he asked me the purpose of my visit.  I spent about 15/20 minutes with him and left.

Later in the day I prepared myself to visit my relative in Apollo. At that point of time and perhaps even now Apollo Chennai has been a hospital of a great repute for its Cardiology department and heart bypass surgery. Patients from far and wide would come to this hospital. As a result the lobby would be crowded; rooms would not be available immediately and there would be long queues to see the concerned doctors. No one was treated as more important than the other and having to cope up with the pressure of having so many patients, the services would slacken sometime.

I reached the Hospital as the clock announced the visiting hour. As I approached the room of my patient I noticed an inspector of police standing outside the room. I could not figure out why should a cop be there standing as if guarding this room. As I entered the room, I found a couple of doctors along with the senior surgeon who was to operate my relative, standing there bent over my relative as if examining him. I panicked and a sense of fear crossed my mind. Has something untowards happened ? Then I noticed the Commissioner of Police sitting in a chair and surrounded by the doctors talking to my relative. He looked at me and soft spoken as he was he suddenly became kind of defensive and said ‘I was just passing by. I thought I will look up your relative.’ I was totally dumb-founded. I didn’t know how to react. Rising from his chair, he said ‘Your relative is fine. I have spoken to the doctors. Don’t worry. He is in safe hands.’ Escorted by the Inspector he left the room and like a zombie I followed him to his car. 

I recall that I had never told him either the name of my relative or his room number.  Then how did he in the several blocks of this hospital find my relative out? As he left, this inspector turned to me and said, ‘Saar, in the afternoon the CP had called me to find out your relative. I had great difficulty in locating him as there was no clue available with me.’

It is difficult for me to describe what this visit did to my patient. The level of care and concern for him went a few notches higher and during his surgery he was surrounded by a bevy of doctors from several streams, an unusual event some attendants and patients continued talking about long after. I am still wondering what impelled him to go and visit a relative of a junior officer whom he hardly knew.

As I arrived in Hyderabad to join my new posting, I was confronted with the problem of admission for my daughter to a premier convent school. I was a stranger in Hyderabad and did not know any one in particular in the city. So I called up the Additional Commissioner of the city police whom I had met just once. Soon after he called me to say that the principal would see me on a particular day. I was grateful to him for having spoken to the principal and having fixed my appointment. In the meantime we were informed that the MOS Home would be visiting the Academy on the very same day when my appointment with the principal was fixed.  I had certain assigned duties in connection with the visit and so it was not possible for me to go and meet the principal. Well, the MOS Home arrived on the appointed day, stayed with us for a couple of hours and left. After his departure I called the Addl CP to inform him that I could not go to see the principal. ‘I know MOS Home was visiting you and you would not be able to go and meet the principal, But don’t worry. I went and met the principal. Your daughter’s admission is through. Tomorrow go to the school and deposit her fee!

I have stated it earlier. I am still wondering. Where do these angels come from? What impels them to stand by you in your hour of crisis? How is the urgent danger staved off by the arrival of just the right man at just the right time? Happy accident or the hand of fate?

Only if I could find an answer before the gusty winds of eternity set sail to my life boat on an uncharted course.

THE SHOPPING BAG

For generations we have had a joint family tradition, consisting of an older man and his wife, his sons and unmarried daughters, his sons’ wives and children and so on. The family is headed by the patriarch, who would make decisions on economic and social matters on behalf of the entire family. The patriarch's wife generally exerted control over the household. and wielded considerable influence in domestic matters.  In fact the locality in which I grew up used to look literally like one  joint family as most of the houses were juxtaposed and resting against each other in such a fashion that one could leap from one roof to another and reach to the end of at least ten houses if not more. And in the process peep in to the courtyard or balcony of the neighbours, accosting and appropriately wishing anyone who cared to notice us. This also offered an opportunity to get a glimpse of the happenings in a particular household. Those were the days indeed!

A neighbour, Gupta uncle and his wife, however lived in a portion of the next door house separated from the rest of the members of their own family living in the same three storied house. Gupta aunty reportedly had problems adjusting with the rest of the family or vice versa. She was known all over the place as a belligerent and a bad mouthed person.

One fine morning hell broke loose in the neighbourhood. A couple of days back Sharma uncle, who again was a neighbour, while going to the market had borrowed a shopping bag from Gupta aunty, with an assurance to return it the same day. Now for over a week he was seen carrying the same bag for shopping passing in front of Gupta house. Gupta aunty noticed it and wanted it back immediately as she was concerned about its wear and tear with such frequent use. Prodded by her, Gupta uncle made several rounds to Sharma house. Sharma Aunty refused to return it. Tempers ran so high that the word spread across the entire neighbourhood. Residents of the colony appeared curious to have a glimpse of this now fabled bag that brought such a storm in its wake. The issue threatened to snowball in to an epic war almost of Mahabharata dimensions akin to Duryodhan’s refusal to part even with a needle point of land!

Old Polonius counsels his hotheaded son Laertes, who is about to embark for Paris for his gentleman's education

Neither a borrower nor a lender be,

For loan oft loses both itself and friend,

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
(Hamlet Act 1, scene 3)

Anyone can make an honest mistake of forgetting to return a borrowed item or money; no matter how aggravating it might be for the rightful owner or lender. From the legal perspective in order to be accused of stealing or theft, you would have to have the criminal intent called mens rea. But it was a case where Sharma aunty simply refused to return the shopping bag which was voluntarily lent by Gupta aunty. Gupta aunty claimed to have been bequeathed with this bag by her dying mother. Therefore it had a tremendous sentimental value. It was priceless like the Kohinoor, now a part of the British crown jewels that historically belonged somewhere else.

History illustrates a very important truth. Inventions, discoveries, modifications or improvement in an existing product are seldom the work of any one mind. These are either an aggregation or the final step of a progression. It is not known when the world started to use shopping bags and made of what stuff, but Walter H Deubner, who ran a small grocery shop in St. Paul, Minnesota was looking for a way to give his business a boost. He noticed that his customers’ purchases were limited by what they could conveniently carry. It took him four years to develop the right solution: a paper bag with a cord running through it for strength. Deubner named his new product after himself, calling it the’ Deubner shopping bag’ and sold it for five cents. He patented his product and within three years by 1815, was selling over a million shopping bags a year!

In 1852 the Queen Victoria decided to reshape the diamond and it was taken to a Dutch jeweler Mr. Cantor who cut it to 108.93 carats. Back home our Gupta aunty’s mother had specially hand sewn the bag customized for the shopping of groceries and vegetables for their household requirements. Gupta aunty claimed it to be an original innovation.

A very dear friend of mine, a famous person of great repute once visited my small library at home and borrowed two volumes from my collection of books with a promise to return these soon. Books are another item which once borrowed is very difficult to retrieve. A year went by. Another year went past. We met once or twice in the intervening years. I remembered but didn’t have the heart to remind him. There's just something in particular about books, which makes borrowers feel that it's okay not to return them. We could even find the borrowed book prominently displayed on the borrower’s coffee table. English writer and essayist Charles Lamb observes "Borrowers of books, those mutilators of collections, spoilers of the symmetry of shelves, and creators of odd volumes."

After paying 5 pounds as entry fee I entered Her Majesty's Royal Palace and Fortress, known as the Tower of London, a historic castle located on the north bank of the River Thames in central London, the other day. It houses the crown jewels and the star attraction is the Kohinoor. It was indeed a tribute to the British business sense that you were paying to see something that belonged to you

It is believed that the diamond was first mentioned more than 5000 years ago in a Sanskrit script, where it was called the Syamantaka. Until 1304 the diamond was in the possession of the rajas of Malwa but back then the diamond was still not named Kohinoor. In 1304 it belonged to the emperor of Delhi Alauddin Khilji.

In 1339 the diamond was taken back to the city of Samarkand where it stayed for almost 300 years. In 1526 the Moghul ruler Babur mentions the diamond in Baburnama. The diamond was gifted to him by Sultan Ibrahim Lodhi. Later, Auranzeb protected the diamond diligently and passed it on to his heirs.

Mahamad, the grandson of Aurangzeb was not a great ruler like his great father. He in 1739 lost the decisive battle and had to surrender to Nadir Shah. It was Nadir Shah who gave the diamond its current name Kohinoor meaning “mountain of light”. But Nadir Shah did not live long because in 1747 he was assassinated and the diamond got to one of his generals Ahmed Shah Durrani.

A descendant of Ahmed Shah, Shah Shuja Durrani brought the Kohinoor back to India in 1813 and gave it to Maharaja Ranjit Singh. In 1849 after the conquest of Punjab by the British forces, the Kohinoor was transferred to the British East India Company in Lahore. One line of the Treaty of Lahore was dedicated to the fate of the Kohinoor.  The diamond was shipped to Britain. In July 1850 the diamond was handed over to Queen Victoria who wore it occasionally afterwards. After her death the Kohinoor became part of the crown jewels, notwithstanding an unceasing, relentless, emotional and patriotic rhetoric to restore it where it rightfully belonged.

Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, the German philosopher said “We learn from history that we do not learn from history.” 
Indeed we keep on repeating the same mistake over and over again and do not take note of how the wise men and sages dealt with many such or similar vexatious issues.

A friend asked Molla Nasreddin, "Can I borrow 1000 toman from you for three months?"

"Well," Nasreddin replied, "I can fulfill half of your loan request."

"Okay, that's fine," the friend said. "I'm sure I can get the other 500 toman somewhere else."

"You misunderstood me," Nasreddin replied. "The half of your loan request I agreed to was the time: the three months. As for the 1000 toman, I cannot give it to you."

WHERE IS THE CONTINGENCY?

I was posted for some time in the Intelligence Branch of the West Bengal Police as the Special Superintendent, looking after the VIP/VVIP security including that of the Chief Minister. In accordance with the charter of duties, I would accompany the Chief Minister on his tours. The close proximity to the Chief Minister both in this and some other field assignments, afforded a good insight in quite a few unforced oversights and faux pas that occurred on some occasions, compelling me to be increasingly convinced of the Murphy’s Law.  

Captain Edward A. Murphy, an engineer working with the American Air Force sometime around early fifties, is credited with the universal coinage, known as Murphy’s Law: If anything can go wrong, it will.

The Chief Minister was staying overnight in a Government bungalow off LRP Road in Siliguri. As usual, I had accompanied him from Kolkata. A team of officers from IB was also there for his proximate security. The district administration and the department, to which the bungalow belonged, had made all the necessary arrangements for the comfortable stay of the VVIP. A generator was also hired and installed in the bungalow campus to take care of any sudden power break-down or load-shedding that was quite frequent in those areas.  After lunch, the CM had retired to his suite before his next engagement a couple of hours later and we and the top officials of the district administration would now settle down for our Lunch. But you can’t push the Murphy’s Law under the carpet. There was a sudden power outage and each one of us jumped to his feet. Quick, quick! Switch on the generator! An officer was sent to nudge the generator operator to start it. But soon the officer came back running; ‘Sir, the generator operator is not there. He has gone to poop!’ I am not sure if this officer was providing a protective cover to the truant operator for his recalcitrance but I am positive there is no Murphy’s Law to cover this contingency.

In Banga Bhawan, New Delhi, I was, escorting the CM up to his suite in the VIP lift. His personal security guard of over three decades was also with us. As I pushed the button of the lift to the desired floor, little did I realize that we were embarking on an odyssey.

Dictionary defines odyssey as a long wandering and eventful journey. I was very sure that I had pressed the correct floor button but instead of stopping at the desired destination, the lift went up to the top floor and before I could react or think of any corrective measures, it began moving down and the LED indicator showed it had reached back the ground floor. The door wouldn’t open. So thinking fast, I pushed the desired button again taking extra care to ensure that I was pushing the right button. The lift again embarked on its journey and again overshot the destination and again returned to the ground floor. This time the door flung open. The CM got out to the shocked and panic stricken look of the senior functionaries of the Banga Bhawan huddled in front of the lift. Other than mildly inquiring ‘ki holo’ the CM simply walked to the other common lift. 

CM was visiting the district where I was the district officer. He was put up at an irrigation department bungalow which the district administration had selected for it was a relatively new property compared to the old circuit house that was in every respect a relic of the British raj. After breakfast, the CM left to see some World Bank aided projects in the countryside of the district and was to return at lunchtime. As scheduled, he came back around mid-day. In a while his confidential assistant (CA) came out rushing. The geyser in the bathroom was not working. The CA asked if a bucketful of hot water could be arranged instead.  Immediately the chowkidar of the bungalow was summoned and asked to do the needful. Considerable time elapsed and our nerves were almost on the verge of getting shattered. Yet there was no bucketful of hot water in sight. Information arrived that the peon had gone to procure firewood! It seemed like ages when the bucket with hot water finally arrived. But wait. The story did not end there.  Again the CA rushed out; there is no soap and towel in the bathroom.

Now this was like the proverbial last straw. The hugely upset District Magistrate wanted to see the concerned engineer responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of the bungalow forthwith. I distinctly remember it was a Sunday. A police officer was sent to fetch him from his house. A body mass of a panting and profusely sweating human being, whose belly preceded him, appeared. ‘Ki hoyechhe Saar’, asked the nervous engineer. The DM told him, ‘The Geyser is not working. There is no soap, no towel in the VIP bathroom.’ Suddenly the engineer breathed easy. ‘Apni ei jonyo amake dekechhen? Amader contingency kothai?’ (You called me for this? Where do we have the contingency fund?). And before anyone could recover from the shock of this argument, the Executive Engineer of the Irrigation Department of the Government, responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of the property, was gone.

Every Independence Day the CM hoists the National Flag in front of the Writers’ Buildings and the National Anthem is played by the Kolkata Police Band to the Rashtriya Salute by an attending contingent of Kolkata Police. The responsibility for fixing the pole and preparing 

an elevated platform rested with the Writers’ unit of the PWD and for fixing the flag, with the unit responsible for everyday hoisting and lowering of the National flag on top of the Writers’ Buildings. The national flag folded with rose petals was up on the flag pole to be unfurled by a pull of the rope with the simultaneous playing of the national anthem and salami shastra by the police contingent. The CM arrived at the appointed hour, stepped on to the elevated platform erected for the purpose. The parade commander paid compliments to him. The CM now turned facing the flagpole. A subedar of the Kolkata Armed Police designated to assist him, handed over the end of the rope to him and the CM pulled at the rope. The loop holding the folded flag on the top end of the pole did not slide to release the flag.  The flag did not unfurl. He looked up the pole and gave a hard jerk to the rope. To the shock and horror of everyone present, the folded flag got unfastened from the pole. It dropped in the out stretched hands of the alert subedar who was stationed below the flag pole to fasten the rope once the flag was unfurled by the CM. However the moment the CM was seen pulling the rope, the contingent commander’s loud and clear command for the Rashtriya Salute was executed. CM saluted and so did all the uniformed personnel present. Thereafter the CM stepped down the platform and acknowledging the greetings from a sparse gathering of top functionaries of the government, walked up to his car with the Police Commissioner, the Chief Secretary and the Home Secretary in tow and departed. I was ordered by the Chief Secretary to inquire in to the circumstances leading to this unprecedented mishap and fix the responsibility. In due course, I placed my report before the Chief Secretary in presence of the Home Secretary and the Commissioner of Police. Whatever was my finding and whatever follow-up measures were taken, you can’t guarantee that such or similar mishaps would not happen again. You can’t defy Murphy’s Law.

One dark evening in the U.S., Murphy's car ran out of gas. As he hitchhiked to a gas station, while facing traffic and wearing white, he was struck from behind by a British tourist who was driving on the wrong side of the road.  

Edward A. Murphy, engineer, working with the American Air Force and the discoverer of the time tested Murphy’s Law was dead.

If anything can go wrong, it will.

DON'T SMILE:WE ARE INDIANS

A few days ago I was travelling to Mumbai on an Indigo flight. It was not such a bright day both literally and figuratively. I was travelling to be with the bereaved family of a close relative who had expired suddenly the previous day. It was a cloudy sky and showers were forecast. We took off on time and were airborne reaching the 35,000 feet above the mean sea level. Soon, we started experiencing mild turbulence such as generally happens in monsoon due to clouds hanging heavy in the sky. The seat-belt signs were on. It was an early morning flight necessitating the travelers to rise early. Most of them were catching up with their lost hours of sleep when suddenly everyone was jolted out of his/her slumber. The aircraft was rocking from side to side and with occasional thuds it seemed like it was hitting a wall. It almost felt like travelling on a Kolkata road full of craters where the drivers try to avoid the ditches moving this way or the other. I held on to the arms of my seat tightly although I knew the futility of such exercise if things got worse.   The strutting was intermittent and with each thud there were shrieks and groans.  But what struck me was that each time after each thud, the lady sitting across in the aisle seat would turn and exchange a glance with me and smile. I would also return her smile. I had a brief moment of disbelief that one could smile in the face of such an unnerving event. And that too share that smile with a stranger. As the aircraft stabilized after what appeared to be an eternity and the seat-belt sign got switched off, I caught my breath, reclined my seat and leaned back. I glanced at the lady to catch her eye, half expecting her to smile back, now that the nightmare was over; to my disappointment I found that she looked through me and took her gaze off without smiling. She appeared to have switched off along with the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign.

I landed in Mumbai safely though the announcement by the cabin crew ‘hope you had a pleasant flight’ sounded out of place and bizarre. But one question has bothered me ever since. Why did the two strangers smile at each other in the midst of such a scary scenario, when everyone seemed to be in panic, when everyone was extremely nervous with heart in mouth? And again where did the smile vanish when we were assured of a safe landing?

At my daughter’s home in Mumbai, I was checking out the chart for my 3 year old grandson’s progression, history of vaccinations and inoculations and the steps a normal child takes in course of growing up. This informative booklet was given to my daughter upon discharge from the hospital after the delivery. It contained a lot of useful information and valuable tips on tending a growing toddler. Of these, one that caught my eye was about ‘social smile’ that a child starts to display when he is two months’ old. A small note at the bottom said: ‘By encouraging your baby to smile, you're helping your baby develop self-esteem. It lets the baby know that his/her feelings are important and that he/she can affect the environment. It's also important for a baby’s overall brain development.’

 After two tough months of late-night feedings and diaper changes, you're in for a big treat -- a smile from your baby. Newborns often smile in their sleep. But starting between 6 and 8 weeks of life, babies develop a "social smile" -- an intentional gesture of warmth meant just for you. This is an important milestone- baby is growing up and starting to figure out human behavior. Baby realizes that smiling back at you gets your attention and it also reveals that his/her communication skills are on track. Even at 3 years of age when my grandson committed a mischief or dropped or broke anything, he looks at his mother and smiles that disarms her and deters her from scolding him.  On the contrary, she smiles back too!

Standing in front of the framed and famed picture of Mona Lisa in the big hall at Louvre in Paris,  I wondered why the Mona Lisa became one of the most famous paintings of all times. That’s a question an incredible amount of people have asked themselves in the past. Mona Lisa's smile has repeatedly been a subject of many—greatly varying—interpretations. Some have described the smile as both innocent and inviting. Many researchers have tried to explain why the smile is seen so differently by people. The explanations range from scientific theories about human vision to curious supposition about Mona Lisa's identity and feelings. And one possible answer could be: because of her unique smile.

As a district officer, I was asked by my grumpy Range DIG to come over and meet him for some official matter. He always appeared to be in a foul mood and I had rarely seen him smile. Late in the evening I landed up in his office chamber. As I seated myself across his table, he summoned his office orderly and asked for tea to be served. We began chatting while we waited for tea to arrive. We were in the middle of some discussion when, after considerable delay, the orderly returned to the office chamber and with a broad grin on his face said ‘Saar, cha to aar paoa jaabe na’ (Tea will not be available anymore). Instead of taking the import of the communication as it was, the DIG literally took him on his ‘face value’. He glared at the poor harbinger of the tidings of a failed mission and shouted ‘Ta hole haashchho keno?’ (Then why are you laughing).

Once, in school, I was punished for something in the class and the teacher ordered me to stand upon the bench for the whole period. My standing on the bench could not have been worse timed, as just then I saw outside my mother passing by in the courtyard, it being a shortcut to the market. I must have smiled perhaps either out of guilt or shame or whatever, but my mother wore a very shocked and embarrassed look and quickly moved away. The criminal jurisprudence does not apply in such circumstances where the dictum says you cannot be punished twice for the same offence. Needless to say my mother’s retribution awaited me as I smilingly entered home later in the day.

According to studies smiling reduces stress that your body and mind feel, almost similar to getting good sleep, and smiling helps to generate more positive emotions within you. That’s why we often feel happier around children – they smile more. On an average, they do so 400 times a day. Whilst happy people still smile 40-50 times a day, the average of us only do so 20 times or even less.

Why don’t we smile more often?  Why don’t we exchange ‘social smile’ when we come across each other, even strangers? Overseas, I have noticed that most people greet with a smile, nod or a hello, when they pass each other. However, such rule doesn’t apply when Indians encounter other Indians. Back home too, we don’t smile at each other. Most of the women reflexively don’t respond with a smile (unless there is turbulence in the sky!). Not many of us greet strangers or unknown people. We stare at the other person with a serious face and walk past.

Mohammed Rafi was one of the most popular singers of the Hindi film industry and certainly one of the greatest in Bollywood history.  He was noted for his versatility; his songs ranged from classical numbers to patriotic songs, sad lamentations to highly romantic numbers, qawwalis to ghazals and bhajans. He was known for his ability to mould his voice to the persona of the actor, lip-syncing the song. Have you ever seen any photograph of his where he is not smiling? May be it is the secret of the sweetness in his voice. He transmitted the positive energy of being happy that perhaps made the generations to smile to his beautiful and soulful renditions.

Smiling is definitely more than just a contraction of muscles in your face or corners of your mouth or sockets of your eyes. In fact Mother Teresa’s “We shall never know all the good that a simple smile can do.” reaches probably even farther and beyond than imagined. A smile can cause boundaries to melt, hearts to warm up, and distances to reduce. When we smile, we share happiness with ourselves first, before we do that to others.  

I was smiling to myself as I was walking in the morning and enjoying fresh air. A stranger coming from the opposite direction smiled back at me and said, ’Nice to see you’. I was startled. ‘I’m sorry. Do we know each other?’ ‘No’, the stranger replied. ‘I just enjoyed your smile.’

Today this stranger is my best friend on my morning walks!