Random Musings

I still remember the days when I was just opening my eyes to the outer world. It was then, I read a Bengali poem by Sunirmal Basu. And in that the lines were like - The sky taught me generosity, and the blowing wind - workaholism. And rest of the poem was all about teachers in nature, or should I say, external factors that infuse learnings in our soul. We learn from not only our school teachers or college professors. We learn from objects, events and almost anything we come across in our daily life - vivacious or inanimate. We just need to keep our eyes open. As we see we learn, and experience bears wisdom. So in a way, we should be more open to the outer world in order to become wiser.

And it's true about learning words as well. Any word I know has a definite story linked with it - the story of how I learnt it. Learning is no herculean task. Of course, at first it may not seem so. When I first saw this word - Herculean, I was bamboozled. I then mugged up the meaning - extremely difficult or something that need superhuman strength. Now, last week I visited Science City, and on the wall of the front most building there was an artwork depicting the story. A heroic figure fighting with a snake-like creature with many heads. And when I came back and was enquiring what they wanted to depict on that wall, I heard one more story - Hercules was a Greek fighter who performed 12 immense labours one of which was to kill Hydra - a multiheaded creature. But the difficlut most part of it was everytime it was beheaded, two new heads were regenerated. And the glimpse of this great fight was there on the wall. Would it be hard any more for me to remember the word and it's meaning? At least I don't have to damn mug it up.

I was hesitating whether I should tell you one more story my teacher told me in my childhood. Although I have plenty of them, giving them all would increase contents of this gibberish, and you may not like me spoiling your precious time. Whereas I am too avid to use it. In short I am tantalized - annoyed by this hesitation - to give or not to give. And finally I decide I must tell you what happened to King Tantalus for stealing ambrosia from Gods. Tantalus's punishment for his act was to stand in a pool of water beneath a fruit tree with low branches. Whenever he reached for the fruit, the branches raised his intended meal from his grasp. Whenever he bent down to get a drink, the water receded before he could get any. His name gave birth to this peculiar sort of annoyance - a temptation without satisfaction - tantalize.

In one of my favourite project speeches in KTM, I heard a fellow Toastmaster narrating a story at the begining of her speech. It was the story of a word. Many words combine to make an interesting story, while each word has an interesting story of itself. And when you know it, learning is nothing but fun. You no longer feel that a good vocabulary is your Achilles' heel. In one of our meeting we had a speech marathon, and our Grammarian aptly presented Marathon as the word of the day and explained the story behind its meaning. In an other meeting a very senior Toastmaster used the word Nudge quite a few time. He read it in a book. I searched for the same book on internet and found out its cover. It was so expressive that just by viewing it you can understand and assimilate the meaning.





I have learnt from almost anything, - right from the interesting links in my friends' tweets, to status messages (nice quotes and quips) of my mentor's google account - from road side advertisements to the cover packs of ordinary consumer goods. We all actually do it in our own distinct ways. But above all, what we see is what we be. And that's why the saying goes, we are average of 5 people we meet everyday.

hazaaron khwaishein aisi

14th May 2010, - 30th Baisakh as per bengali calendar - Amabashya - the darkest night as they say. And I got the same tinge in my life. I am like the central character of a novel written by another famous Bengali -who was born in the month of Baisakh co-incidentally - "Amol" the boy in his famous novel "dak hor kora", who desired to have different careers at different point in time in his life when he liked them. I kind of feel like him. My desires do change with time, and after a year long desire and a week long wait, I was stuck up tonight till 9 pm in a culturally retrograde office, and was hunting for some life saving light, but I forgot it's the start of a day when even the moon turns dark. And when I typed in the textbox my roll number, the same old phrase popped up once again on screen in front of my eyes, "SORRY! You are not selected" and I could see the death of my dreams and could do nothing. For about a year I bore this dream to be an artist, and I wanted to do something new, something other than the boring stuff I do in this hectic job in a so called MNC, I wanted to pursue New Media Design in one of the finest Design college in the world - NID Ahmedabad. But even though I can't study design, I did study economics which say that there's more want than how much you can get - there's always an unsurmountable gap between demand and supply.



I didn't want much actually, I just wanted to step into someone else's shoes, at least this is what the question was in that form that I filled up once when I was desparately trying to get into a design / advertising job, in a company called CONTAD. Yes, as they asked this question "if you could step into someone else's shoes for a day, who would it be and why?", my answer was the same as I have put it below:



Satyajit Ray. Just like millions of Bengalis in the world, I am fan of his works starting from movies, literature, art and what not. His movies were like mirrors to real life. He also paid heed to the precious literature we already have in our native land, not borrowing or plagiarizing stories from others’ creations, the way they do these days in films. His movies can also be classified in groups fulfilling different purpose – starting from expression of human life, changing values in city life, detective stories, and literary geniuses. I was not a movie buff. Especially I never had any liking for Bengali movies till I watched movies directed by him. His well written stories are famous for introducing themes relating to science fiction, travels to far away places, extra sensory perceptions, and even tender feelings – all that can make the youth deeply dipped into them. Once I read his accounts of his childhood namely “Jokhon Chhoto Chhilam” (meaning, when I was young). And inspired by it, I started to fill up my diary with my own childhood memories. I admire him also for making a character alive for timeless period, Feluda, the vernacular version of Sherlock Holmes. He was master of creativity, as he revived Sandesh, a magazine for children. I am currently the editor for Kolkata Toastmasters’ Club’s quarterly newsletter. And I have tried my best to revive it in terms of its design and looks. I like calligraphy. And he was one of the very few creative persons who have got two font or type faces registered in their names. As a cover designer, he did splendid things that attract me a lot. Whenever I visit Nandan, the famous multiplex in Kolkata, I love to see the logo, designed by him, that shines on top of the front building. I am also fond of effective communication which he was a master of. He was effective in all the modes he used to communicate to the mass. Though he is more famous as Oscar Committee recognized him for life-time achievement in cinema, I love to imagine him as one of those prodigies like Leonardo da Vinci, who can never be classified as any particular type of artist. They are embodiment of humans with limitless creativity. He is, in other words, my creative guru, and it would be really great if I can step into his shoes for a day! But I don’t hold any degree in fine arts, I am not a good painter, I don’t have that much professional experience expected in a creative artist, but deep in my heart, I bear this dream of being an artist of his height. I know, innovative way of doing things doesn’t allow you to copy others. But, there’s nothing wrong in stealing inspiration from others’ life.



I wrote all those stuff and dreamt a dat dream may be, and now am landed on to the hard crust of harsh reality. And I see nothing else, except for this blinding darkness here.



On second thought, the Amabashya night is translated into english as "The New Moon", or the day when the moon starts getting better, and bigger (only figuratively, the Astronomer will tell you that the size doesnt change, only the illuminated area visible to us is changed, or a Physicist might use his law of conservation of mass to confront me here). The omen tells me to start afresh, and strive for it, and I tell myself, dreams are dreams only till they come true. And the best way to conclude is to end with the parting words of the last person I was chatting with, "come on there are no failure. These are just small speedbreakers in ur life which indicates to make a back gear and move ahead without looking back"

Brishti Tomake Dilam...

1:37 AM, April 29, 2010, and the cool breeze blowing through my window from the North Eastern side of the backyard is bringing tiny little droplets along with it. It reminds me of my mom’s caring touch, it takes me to time that has been to oblivion, and what will never come back, how hard I may try and cry. About 20 years ago, went to school, for the first time in my life, and since then learnt lessons a lot, and those that were in no text books. Learnt how to lead life – lonely and lovelorn, and loveless at last, a lad who lost his lass. Learnt how to overcome that sudden punch, learnt to forget things for better… and still learning, - a life long process it has been, as they said. I had a heart – clean like a blank slate, and the girl of my dream came with a pink chalk, scratched in it, I scratched then too, and started the rounds of tick-tack-toe, but when in final turn she made the final cross, I failed to read the omen, she crossed the limit of togetherness, and I kept my fingers crossed, till I crossed the ocean of grief that prevailed for pretty few annums.


Tears shed as if rain. And I felt lighter letting them drip drop by drop. Neon lights still lit the roads, soaked in the night’s dew, - and drizzles, incoherent, ricked by reckless wind. She came again arousing all my senses. And when I yearned to cast that amorous look, she was no more there, I rambled, rumbled in quest, and she was nowhere at all.


The days passed by, and I forgot thou. And I marred the kid in me, and hate the exile. I have freed myself under the azure sky, and I leaped in joy, with desire to fly high, and then the wind came, and the drops as well, the light had that glow again, and took me to thee tonight.

Your Body Speaks*

Verve is indeed needed along with verbosity. In other words, energetic style showing proper body language is of utmost importance while speaking in public. To be specific, research based data show that 93% effectiveness of a speech depends upon not what you speak, but how you speak it – i.e. nonverbal communication.

Non verbal communication has several aspects like vocal variety, intonation, body language etc. But body language is most crucial of all. It is the reason why Television is a better mode of communication than Radio. Radio can cater to you the other qualities of a speech but the absence of body language makes it incomplete or imperfect.

Moreover body language doesn’t demand an athletic body or six pack abs, neither zero figure. It’s not a body builder’s prerogative but it’s the simplest way to build your speech stronger in terms of getting the message across. Body language is chiefly controlled by but not limited to the following three modes.

Facial Expression: Your facial expression has the capability to support or deny what you say. With a fallen jaw [ like a face similar to :( ] even if you punch your fists in air and proclaim in high pitch, “I am happy, my boss has bestowed this responsibility only to me barring other 9 members in my group!”, your colleagues will overhear something, that you are not at all happy because of this unwelcome burden. You will be a liar to them if you neglect the simple rules of body language. So learn to show your facial expressions aptly. And at least when you’re speaking to public, just believe that they are no inanimate invisible objects; please keep proper eye contact. Your confidence will pass through your eye balls and will hit the bull’s eye.

Gestures: When you are in a public speaking forum your hands and arms are like inevitable tools, much like the willows that Sachin uses in any Indo-Pak nail-biting one-dayer inside a jam-packed cricket stadium. Your hands can point or stomp with fists. You want to make a mockery of someone? Don’t just laugh at him, but also keep your one palm cupped to your mouth, and the index finger of the other hand pointed to that mortal. He will be on “ire” if not “fire”. Just imagine a leader, marching ahead, shouting “Inquilab Zindabad” [meaning, “Long Live Revolution”], with the right hand in his pocket. The movement won’t really last long; forget longevity. Faith moves mountains, and right Gestures, a whole mass movement.

Postures: Your stance supports you while speaking. It not just supports you (carries the load of your body), but it supports you in whatever you are saying (expresses the right body language needed for your content of speech). Generally, be balanced and upright when you face the audience, but learn to adjust your posture as you go on speaking. In the story you are narrating to a bunch of kids, suddenly a tiger jumps in front of you. With the heart pounding like thousand-watts-speakers, you started to run. Now if you really show the posture like that in the illustration, I wonder some of the kids will start running as well, taking the story to be true.



Body language does make things true if you use them properly. It has also the power to contradict your intent of speech. It’s like a wild (and lazy) horse, you need to tame for your own use. Great orators are great not for their thoroughly twisting tongue, but they are great men, bodily. In one of the Ted talks, that I watched few days ago, the renowned performer and social activist Mallika Sarabhai conducted a speech session. And she was not talking much. Then why on earth was she there for in that talk/speech show? Well she can dance, and when she dances her body does speak!


*(Write up for article in the coming issue of SPARK, -quarterly newsletter of Kolkata Toastmasters Club)

Believe It Or Not

Seeing is indeed believing. And that implies, we tend to disbelieve what we can’t see with naked eye. But there are things, beyond our perception, off the realms of reality. None of us have, or to be safe, most of us haven’t seen God who is yet believed to be omnipresent. I am not being theistic, nor am I an atheist; you may call me agnostic, if you can. I believe that there’s a need of believing in God. It doesn’t harm us. Instead it helps us refrain from doing sins. It helps us bear our moments of pain with hopes for a better future. It boosts our confidence.


Just imagine a world where people are earnestly atheistic. And there would be crimes galore for sure. Like most corrupted ministers, we won’t rein in our sinister desires, and this mundane world would be under the reign of unimaginable anarchy. On the contrary, suppose there is a place somewhere on this earth, or heaven, where people do believe in things unseen. They believe in a surreal superpower, or an absolute mystery, or a supernatural being that controls the fate of each and every individual or creature living. And it would inspire you to do things undone, punish for things wrongly done, and award for things done with excellence. Now tell me, do you feel like believing?


Believing is good as at the very beginning it’s believing that makes thing happen. With one leg amputated, many supposed her to have got the premature end of her dancing career. But Sudha Chandran believed she can, and went on to grace the stage again, even with a wooden Jaipur foot. On the other side of the globe, a penniless pauper at the pavements of Sao Paulo used to dream. While busy shining others’ boots, he believed in his own dream. And one day he made it true, and became the world famous football wizard Pele. His own boot could kick the shining golden ball (the award for the best footballer of the year 1970 by FIFA). All the great fellows in this world, who have somehow made a mark, must have believed it all the time. Believing is such an essential energy that drives you through all the most difficult missions in life.


In this crucial juncture when cut-throat-competition and rat race are inextricably linked up with life, it demands you to take control of things; it urges you to be clear and confident when you speak and it leaves you with no choice but being heard, understood and followed by others willingly. And that’s the reason why communication and leadership are the lingos selling like hot cakes. You have to make yourself acquainted with the need of the hour. There are people who still think they can’t. The rest are those humble, amicable, diligent and helpful people who love to call them Toastmasters.

V-day Vanity

Celebrating the Valentines Day, these days, is just as usual as celebrating one’s birthday 10 years ago. Be it an elderly couple watching “My Name Is Khan” in INOX, a middle aged gentleman roaming around Shyambazar with a gorgeous lady with boy cut hair and terracotta theme cotton saree and black rimmed oval shaped spects, or just two cute little babies (a boy clad in Mickey tee and a girl with two tentacles stuck to her hair band and a pair of butterfly wings attached to her back, both below the age of 5 years or so) - playing together at the top floor children’s park at Forum Mall – Valentines Day was so special to everyone as I could see. The day being a Sunday, helped the cause. People could throng in large numbers around the hot and happening places of the city.

I, on the other hand, celebrated the day differently. Yes I was out with a friend, and spent the day with lots of fun, but she was not my valentine. She is more than love. As I believe Amity is sometimes something more than love. You fall in love, you fall out of love, and you fall in love again. You date people, you propose them, and you marry one of them in the end. But sometimes it’s so difficult to find a like minded person or a friend who has the same sort of likings and thinking as you have. And I was awe stricken when she took out this small, little, simple and sober gift from her vanity (bag). Weeks ago I was thinking of the same thing – a gift that I can gift her – a photo frame with no photograph in particular, but with lots of images and scribbles that mark the number of events and occasions that we spent so far. (Like the coffee cup – as we spent time in coffee shops, the creative things that we made together, the specific words that we utter and are liked by each other and so many such things). And when she made it for me before I could do it for her, I said, gosh was she made with the same set of genes that I have?



I am generally a reserved kind of guy, but when I am with her I am too much talkative, and I guess this is the story of all others who fall in love, or at least in half love like me. And I interrupt her so much while she speaks. She, like, I guess, many other cute girls, has this habit of turning and twisting her fingers, palm, and hands in peculiar shapes to carry out the non-verbal part of her communications. And that’s something I am in love with. And often while she speaks, I either gape at those funny gestures, or interrupt her with a word or two of mine, and she gets annoyed and violent (violent with not sword or machine guns, but with bombs of tear drops that she sheds so frequently, to win the battle even before start). My frequent interruption hurts her as she thinks we have too little time together to complete the conversations with so many such interruptions of mine. And the sight of tears dropping and dripping on top of her plate of Mongolian Noodles makes me sad, and I take the oath (again and again) not to interrupt her in future. We have small fights like this almost everyday.



But there is something that binds us together despite all these tussles - the sheer liking for each other. I don’t know why on earth she likes me. But I know why I do. We were watching this controversial movie that has tried its bit to make the point clear – no matter which religion you follow you can be classified in either of two ways. Either you are a good person or a bad one. And sometimes, I ponder over these lessons, and feel sorry about it. I feel sorry because though I personally have no communalism at all, sometimes we are compelled to behave in a different way as we are guided by our traditions, social practices and our family values. We all love to see the onscreen chemistry of SRK and Kajol, who hail from two different religions in the story and still get married. But I wonder how many of us would dare to follow this. Won’t we hesitate a lot before going for an inter-religion marriage? Forget inter-religion affairs, we even get many a hiccups to accept an inter-caste marriage even in this age of Twitter and Wikimapia. The other aspect of the movie is about accepting people who are having some sort of abnormality. When we see SRK acting in the role of an autistic person and somebody is making fun or laughing at him, we become suddenly so rebellious to stop that person at once. But once the two-and-half-hours-drama is over do we really take home that newly developed mentality? No, I guess. We just dump it outside the theatre hall, and while on our way home, if we see a spastic child or an autistic man, we be the same devils as we were previously, and we take the lead to mock at them without a prank of conscience. Inspired by movies, stories, and books on personality development, we take the oath to be a good man, but sometimes we fail in real life.



But here is this different story. After watching the movie we headed towards the terrace of the BURP food court atop Forum Mall. And there while we were enjoying time together, a kid, about 13/14 years in age, well dressed, came to us with a weird facial expression, he was delighted to see the bottle of coke kept on our table, and said something incoherently to I don’t know whom while trying to extend his hand towards the coke. We were astonished at this and I had so many thoughts running in my mind. First it reminded me of a guy who could try to be an extra smart kid and checked if he could take the bottle without our attention. Then the callous way in which he was trying made me feel that he was not that smart. He might be a poor fellow like the one who would ask you for money or food at the pavements near Esplanade and I thought how people like these could get into this sophisticated and civilized(?) shopping mall. But then the dress of that guy was saying against it. So I was trying to develop a third line of thought like this guy may be a victim of the disease I have just heard about but haven’t faced in reality – kleptomania. While I could think about one more line of such thought, a graceful gentleman with a little embarrassment in his face came running towards our table, and took the kid in his control, and said sorry to us. And then while he was busy feeding his child with some food and coke that he has just brought from the counter, I was still thinking about reasons why that fellow did it. And the gal who was accompanying me asked me if I would get angry if she did something. She wanted to give that guy one of the chocolates I brought for her. I paused to work out reasoning behind the child’s action and looked at her. I felt I am once again in love with this simple girl who earns mere 5 thousand a month working 10 hours a day and 6 days a week inside a cramped textile workshop in one of the filthy streets of Burrabazar. It’s not that how you live makes you great; it’s just about how you think. While I was thinking in an exactly different line, - of logic and reasons like most other civilized chap, this girl did try to make that kid a bit happier if she could.



Often when I think that this gal is not mine and someone else’s girlfriend, I feel I am guilty if I love her. But the thing that I believe now is no matter if she is having a boyfriend or not, no matter whether I am the one to marry her or not, no matter what other people would think about me if they know I am dating someone else’s girlfriend, there’s nothing wrong in loving a truly good person by nature. And I am proud to be in half love with my half-girlfriend once again.







Post Script: When she offered the chocolate to that kid, his father was happier than the kid, and that made me happy. Later, before parting, the gentleman came to us and conveyed his sincere thanks and said that he hails from Bangladesh and came here for the treatment of his child, and the child is really enjoying in Kolkata, and he is so pleased to be here that he is not even game to go back to his motherland. The city has won the heart of even that spastic child. And sometimes, the word WIN reminds me of its Bengali equivalent, JOY. Kolkata, like the extraordinarily ordinary girl of my story you are so wretched a city, but only now I know why people call you the city of joy!

Cramped CAT

When was in college, I used to see batch-mates studying for CAT and all such exams, I was in no mood. Thought it's enough to get a job that offers 15k salary p.m. But when landed in reality, could easily assess the value of an MBA degree. When I was a kid, and did well in Xth Board, ppl around me anticipated I would become an engineer and doctor, but a year ago when I was a Marketing Engineer, in a French MNC dealing in the power and transport sector, I could see what returns an engineering degree can fetch. I used to just print crores of pages and scan personal documents of seniors. And I knew hell couldnt be worse!



I had a little interest in finance/ share trading/ investment/ entrepreneurship and a lot of affinity towards spending money, and obviously the desire for earning the same to empower myself. And I clubbed them together, and what came out is this career option - An MBA degree, but only from the top 20/ top 30 colleges in India, otherwise return on investment (high course fees and two years time) won't be good enough. And then started to THINK about preparation. But got lazy, sat for CAT 2007, got 96.7%ile overall, with great DA and good QA, but pathetically low in VA (around 45%ile, as i remember). I knew being from a vernacular medium this bilayiti language is the demon.



I made plans for CAT '08, purchased old IMS materials from college street in Kolkata, and also even took the TIME test series (previous year, i didnt have any book/ material/ course or even these AIMCATS)... but the materials gathered dusts perpetually. Was doing good in mocks. had a high hope as usual. But at the end, it was Fiasco, CAT '08 - 75%ile, with QA and DI above 85%ile, and VA as low as 16/17 %ile with negative score. I bought forms for NITIE, IMT, MDI, SP JAIN, - all wastage of money! fared badly in SNAP, JMET and NMAT.



And then started preparing seriously in a small group of three. We were doing well for first 3 months, my focus was solely on VA. and then occurred the accident. the other two of my group got smitten in love, and the functioning of the study group collapsed. the situation at work was getting bitter and bitter, and I decided to resign, got 2 months time before CAT, but was not honest enough. Only spent time with improving my VA skills. And the result was reaped. Was getting highest %iles in VA in Mocks. finally exams came. IIFT - 17.5 only, XAT - 92%ile (expected 96-97%ile, and the XIMB app fees were wasted), initially never thought about GIM for quality issue, and now was thinking - want of choice! Alas, it was too late now, dates are over! JMET - no rank even. after FMS test, I was delighted after having an expected score of 250 and knowing that last year a score of 230 fetched an interview call. But then only 350 around students were called for 71 odd seats, and I was not lucky enough to be there in that list. And now just waiting for CAT in which I could only attempt 42-45, and i have heard of 50+ attempting candidates in umpteen number. So keeping my ten fingers crossed. And then I have a knack in creativity (design based, and am little fond of communication development of late, am part of a Toastmasters Club in the city) - and also do freelance design jobs. So waiting avidly for MICAT!



When I left my job I was confident enough with my funds, but cash flow was pathetic, and that financial might collapsed, thinking about joining back to the same post at same pay scale at the same hell of a company.



Lost almost all the races so far, gained something - experience. And that invigorates me for one more endeavour - looking forward to November 2010.

The Power of Hope - My Project 3 Speech

Mr. Toastmaster, fellow Toastmaster and my dear friends, before I start my speech, I put this question to you all. What, according to you, is our greatest mental strength? What is the most powerful thing a human mind can have?

Well, you may opine for other things. But to me, it’s hope. Hope is not just a four letter word. It’s like a horse having four strong muscular and powerful legs namely H, O, P and E. And we have to ride this horse in order to chase our dreams. Don’t trust me? Well, I will tell you three short stories, nothing else, just three stories.

The first story is an anecdote from the life of the legendary king of Scotland, Robert Bruce. He was an extremely generous king and one of the most famous warriors of his time. He was the pioneer of Scotland’s freedom from the English rule. But success, as you all know, doesn’t come easy. In his early life, he was defeated by the enemies and was driven away from his kingdom. While he was on the run during the winter of 1305 AD, Bruce hid himself in a cave in Ireland. There he observed a spider spinning a web, trying to make a connection from one area of the cave's roof to another. Each time the spider failed, it simply started all over again until it succeeded to make the cobweb. Inspired by this, Bruce returned to inflict a series of defeats on the English, thus winning him more supporters and eventually the victory.

The second story is from a 1994 Hollywood movie. It was 1947. Andy, an innocent banker, was convicted of murdering his wife and her lover, based on strong circumstantial evidences. He and his close friend in Jail would dream about spending happier times out of the prison. But repeated trials for parole ended in fiascos. And while his friend was under stark pessimism, he kept on hoping against hopes. He uttered to himself, “Fear can hold you prisoner; hope can set you free.” And he kept on doing; something which nobody knew what, not even his friend had any idea about it. But one day, his cell in the prison was empty. He used a few inches long tiny old rock hammer and spent sleepless nights year after years, to make the way out. And he crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit smelling foulness one can't even imagine. Five hundred yards... that's the length of five football fields. But the other end of the drain is what the return on his audacious optimism can be.

Now, the third one is not actually a story or a movie. It’s very much a real life incident. It was the year 1940. In the United States of America, a baby girl was born; prematurely; weighing only 4.5 lbs. Life was like deep darkness to her as she caught infantile paralysis. She was pathetically sorry not being able to walk or play like her other 19 siblings. But her mother was unperturbed; she tried a lot to make things better for her child. She was recovering with time. But there were more things to come. At the time of recovery she was wearing a brace on her left leg and foot which, as a result, got twisted. But just this was not the limit of all worries. Murphy’s Law is sometimes so inevitable. She got scarlet fever, whooping cough, chicken pox, measles, and pneumonia twice. But was it the end of her story? Did she die like just another diseased girl? No, not at all, my dear friends. Her mother was rich in hopes and she kept on trying to cure her child’s problems. And then the baby girl grew up fighting with all the antagonistic power, and at the age of 20 she emerged as a powerful sprinter who proved her mettle by winning 100 meters Gold, 200 meters Gold, and 4x100 meters relay Gold in the 1960 Rome Olympics. She was Wilma Glodean Rudolph.

Now leave the whole world, and let me tell you about my own self. Every time I give a speech as a Toastmaster, I feel, I am not doing it up to the mark. But the hope to do well again, the hope to improve my skills, and the hope to excel in near future is what keeps me attending the Toastmasters’ meeting again and again. And I wish Toastmasters always stays a harbinger of hope to me and to many speakers and leaders of this world.

Hope is like a heeling balm to the ailing people of the aching earth. Hope is a ray of light that does disperse the darkness of despair. Hope is the panacea of this strife torn world. And the best way to testify ‘Hope’ is to conclude with this quote that was there in my all time favorite movie,

“Hope is a good thing and may be the best of things and no good thing ever dies!”

Thank you.