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There is no doubt that pride is to man what plume is to peacock.
Cocks crow.
And there is the story of this old woman in a village who owned a cock that would fly up her modest hut and crow the hours in the dead of the night. Those were the days when there were no alarm clocks, and village folks had to get up well before dawn to get ready for their long walk to their farms; and their wives to launch their hubbies. And someone insulted this old woman about her poverty and she crowed:
"Beware! What will happen to you all if my cock doesn't crow!"
Dogs think they own their mohallas. That's how we have the idiom:
"He is putting on a lot of dog"
Indeed there are moments when it looks that the whole Nature is preening herself. If you have lived through as many cyclones as I did, you would feel this. Tornadoes, snowstorms, hail, and rainbows sound and look like Nature's occasional display of her pride in order to put man in his place.
Even li'l Ishani boasts of her achievements in her kindergarten school. When I reach her school at noon and wait for her to emerge, she would see me and come out and stop on the steps, open her bag, and show me then and there her ma'am's comments on her workbook:
And she would exhibit the back of her palm on which her ma'am had drawn a star or an ice-cream cone or a bird.
My D-i-L who works in Eurokids tells me that all kids in her class pester her to install those goodies on their palms...
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"...Talk about conceit as much as you like, it is to human character what salt is
to the ocean; it keeps it sweet, and renders it endurable. Say rather it is
like the natural unguent of the sea-fowl’s plumage, which enables him to shed
the rain that falls on him and the wave in which he dips. When one has had all
his conceit taken out of him, when he has lost _all_ his illusions, his feathers
will soon soak through, and he will fly no more..."
...Oliver Wendell Holmes
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There is no doubt that pride is to man what plume is to peacock.
Cocks crow.
And there is the story of this old woman in a village who owned a cock that would fly up her modest hut and crow the hours in the dead of the night. Those were the days when there were no alarm clocks, and village folks had to get up well before dawn to get ready for their long walk to their farms; and their wives to launch their hubbies. And someone insulted this old woman about her poverty and she crowed:
"Beware! What will happen to you all if my cock doesn't crow!"
Dogs think they own their mohallas. That's how we have the idiom:
"He is putting on a lot of dog"
Indeed there are moments when it looks that the whole Nature is preening herself. If you have lived through as many cyclones as I did, you would feel this. Tornadoes, snowstorms, hail, and rainbows sound and look like Nature's occasional display of her pride in order to put man in his place.
Even li'l Ishani boasts of her achievements in her kindergarten school. When I reach her school at noon and wait for her to emerge, she would see me and come out and stop on the steps, open her bag, and show me then and there her ma'am's comments on her workbook:
...Wow!, Super!, Fantastic!...
And she would exhibit the back of her palm on which her ma'am had drawn a star or an ice-cream cone or a bird.
My D-i-L who works in Eurokids tells me that all kids in her class pester her to install those goodies on their palms...
All of us take pride in what we do...or desist from doing (even more so).
Otherwise we can't keep up.
All of us boast either explicitly or implicitly (to our wives, kids and close friends). If anyone doesn't boast at all, he boasts about his modesty.
Pride is what makes us live a normal life. Occasionally when many things go wrong at once and we feel totally negative about ourselves, we sink into severe depression. And that is something that we ought to avoid if we can. It is during those nasty spells that we need the support of our friends and family to cheer us up about ourselves (apart from dragging us to the right psychiatrist).
The troop of monkeys led by Jambavan (their Team-Lead) suddenly reached the vast sea in their search for Sita. And were forlorn and depressed...they didn't want to abandon their mission, tuck their tails, and return to Raama who reposed such faith in them that he asked Sugriv to include Hanuman in the Southbound Search Party.
And Hanuman was sitting glumly on a rock on the seashore and was lost in thought. It was then that Jambavan approached him and sang his praise about his might and power and prowess. And Hanuman swelled up and took off to cross the mighty sea.
But, for unemployed retirees there is not much of a present to boast of nor a future to look forward to. That is why they brag about their past or blog about it.
And if they have kids they brag about them. If they have grandkids, they brag about them too....
The Prime Mover on the bride's side in my marriage was my wife's grandpa, Mr Pathri Hanumanta Rao (Hanuman again there!).
He was one of the nicest persons I have ever met and exchanged views with. He did his Engineering from the famous 220-year-old Guindy College of Madras in the 1920s. And retired as an Executive Engineer by the time my wife grew up to marriage. He had lost his wife when he was 36 and never married again. He brought up his own half a dozen kids and scores of grandkids and relatives, educated them, and married them off.
When he came to know that a certain gps (36) was in the waiting line for marriage at IIT KGP, he proposed his granddaughter, Rukmini (29), as a suitable bride and sent her resume', horoscope, and latest photo to my father.
The photo is still with me in my wallet.
On its reverse is the name and address of Rukmini in his neat handwriting. It reads:
Doctor Rukmini Devi, M.B.B.S.
(doing M.D.)
c/o Dr. P. V. Rama Rao
M.V.Sc., F.R.V.C.S., Ph.D.
Note that he doesn't mince his words by abbreviating the 'Doctor' to a mere: Dr before his granddaughter's name although he doesn't bother about it before his son's...P. V. Rama Rao, a mere Dr.
I could get what M.V.Sc and Ph. D. stood for, but not the F.R.V.C.S...and I was too shy to ask...although I could guess.
Quite obviously he gloats about his granddaughter who had the license to kill humans unlike his son who could kill only animals (pet, farm, and wild) and get away with it...
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