Ammuma's house

I lived with my Ammuma, appupa, chitha (my mom younger sister) and with two mamas(my mom’s younger brothers) till I was three or 3.5 years old. Then my parents (aka Mr and Mrs. Nambiar) took me away from the favorite place on earth.

My ammuma house was located in a street having a Murugan temple at the end of the street. It resembled the miniature village scene from our “kolu” with two rows of houses with temple at the end of street. Ammuma and myself used to go to the Murugan temple frequently. She took me  with her everywhere she went. My favorite one is the fish/veg market and the grocery store (Nadar kadai) where I got my favorite toffee - Kummercut.

My ammuma’s house had a porch with a cement chaise like the Victorian era ones. Every evening I used to lay there eagerly waiting for my chitha’s arrival from office. She worked in Madras secretariat at that time. Every day she got my evening snack wihtout fail- a bunch of Hyderabadi white grapes and packet of roasted peanuts . I merrily ate my snack sitting on the bench on the front porch while she sipped her evening coffee. Those days every family got milk from local milk vendors. Late evening the balance milk would be used for making curd and ammuma never stored milk overnight. My first mama(maternal uncle)  who worked for commercial tax dept  got my night time milk and Pachanadan pazham ( green banana) from a nearby tea-shop daily.   Aavin milk booths mushroomed in Chennai in late seventies. Like milk/vegetable seller, the Krishna oil seller (Kerosene for the stove) came to every street to sell Krishna oil from his oil drum fitted on a tricycle.  Ammuma's kitchen had kerosene stove and she used to get kerosene from the Krishna oil vendor regularly. On my first trip to grocery store  in US , I was pleasantly surprised to see  gallon size milk bottles in the dairy aisle.

After lunch we used to take a nap together. We had frequent power cuts in those days and my ammuma was my manual fan. I still remember asking her “ammuma vichiri vudu” non stop when the ceiling fans stopped rotating. There are certain special events  which are carved forever in my memory. I can recollect my voice but don’t remember how I looked. My ammuma never had a huge dressing table mirror like the one in my house. She will fan me non-stop with the traditional ola visiri (traditional hand fan). She had all the patience that a world needed. I learnt the virtue of patience from her and from my chitha.

My ammuma came from a very wealthy family from Nagercoil . She was given good education and was proficient in English, Tamil, Malayalam and Hindi. She taught me to write family members name in English. I remember those times vividly. We used to have this checked patterns on the cement floor. I used to write family members name on the lines on the floor. I don’t know at what age she started teaching me alphabets but I was writing everybody’s name in English before three. My favorite was “Raman Pillai” my periamma’s husband name.

 Later in my life , when I scored good marks in exams or successful in my career my extended family (aunts, uncles) used to talk about my ability write people’s name in english at a very early age. I felt very shy and even little annoyed when this story was shared with visitors because I never thought it was a big deal. Taking care of NR right from birth without any guidance, I appreciate and respect my ammuma’s parenting skills more. I am amazed at my ammuma’s teaching skills. I am not very successful in teaching anything to NR. I am not even able to take his bottle away. Believe me I have tried do that right from 12 months. NR has a mind of his own. He picks up traits just like that if he is interested otherwise he doesn’t want to do anything with it. And I am fine with it. I will lend my hand whenever he needs it. God sends us all to this earth with enough skills to live our own life. I have a strong faith that my son is blessed with his own skills.

And I also strongly feel that my ammuma is my/NR's guardian angel.

Billy Mora aka my appupa

My appupa was a good-looking guy and a very funny man.  He was a man of few words just like NR. NR has his good looks just like his great-grandfather. My grandpa spoke only Malayalam till his death though the majority of his adult life was spent in Tamil Nadu.

 My grandpa came from a well-known family (tharavad) from Aluva, Kerela. There is a hearsay that his grandfather was the first one to study law in Chennai under the orders of then travancore Maharaja. We knew very little about his family back in Aluva , since he migrated to Nagercoil at a very young age after his mother’s death. He worked in police department and went for special duty at Thanumalayan temple during festivals. My ammuma’s (maternal grandmother) father was a top temple official at Thanumalayan temple at that time.

He was car crazy guy just like NR. He had the latest cars like  Morris Minor in those days and my first two periyammas are only witness to his wealth.

I remember the long evening walks I used to take with my appupa from my grandmother house in Saidapet to my eldest periyammas house at Nandanam on the sidewalks of Mount Road in early 1970’s . He had a crooked walk due to an accident. He used to talk to me about things that interest him on the road  like cars on the road. I never used to understand him well since ammuma and younger siblings of my mother who stayed with my grandparents house at that time spoke only tamil most of the time.

In those days , I saw only few cars on the Mount Road but many autorickshaws, rickshaws , bullock carts and  Pallavan Transport buses . I remember a lone traffic police at Mount Road - Nandanam/VenkatNarayana Road intersection. Current Temple tower complex opposite to Housing Board was a huge sunken lot with overgrown grass and it had an old  jeep in an upright position at the rear end of the lot.  During our walks the sight of the old jeep meant we are closer to my periyamma house. I was less than 3 years old at that time and I can still remember everyting so vividly. The overturned jeep and the lot remained the same until the start of the temple tower complex construction .

I remember a funny incident that happened 32-33 yrs back. My grandpa lived with my mom’s eldest sisters after my grandma died. There was a ration shop just next door in a shopping area. That ration shop had a new hire named John. Occasionally my grandpa would go there to buy grocery upon my periyamma’s request. On one such occasion he had bought “Rava” (sooji) and I think it cost around 25 or 50 paisa in those days. Since it is government shop, the clerk (John) has to give receipt with the customer name for each transaction. He asked my grandpa’s name and my grandpa replied “Billy Mora”. His real name was Velayutham Pillai. He brought the receipt home with a name "Billy Mora" and shared the story with my periyamma . It seemed he was so annoyed that for a little change, he had to give his name as if it’s land deed. In his work days, even getting salary didn't involve any paper work  like receipts.

 John was a naïve guy from a remote village in Kanyakumari district starting his life as a provision clerk in government shop. He truly believed my grandpa name was Billy Mora. After few months, John befriended our family since we are also from Kanyakumari district and then knew my grandpa's real name. John worked in the same ration shop even during my Anna university days.

Whenever I heard this story, I thought my grandpa has made up the name “Billy Mora”. But after immigrating to US,  I came to know that this is a real name . I was curious to know -how my grandpa knew this name?  Did he come across somebody with this name or read this name in books?  Kerela has a rich history of Christian missionaries from Europe and South America especially Aluva district. May be he knew somebody with that name.  I wish he was alive to answer these questions. I wish he was alive to see his great-grandson who resemble him in every aspect.

Special Education Week - Day 7

We got Reader's Digest delivered monthly along with Soviet Woman. I learnt about first female astronaut Valentina Tereshkova thru Soviet woman magazine  and aspired study space science. My recollection of collectibles was from Soviet Woman. I used to dream as little kid  to own all those lovely looking dolls with their ethnic russian costume.

RD was my "GOOGLE" in those days. I read real-life stories from world, western philosophy and lifestyles. I loved reading RD and I still do. I loved every column especially the inspiring life stories they featured regularly. When you are young you see parents around you setting expectations for their kids. Lot of them pushed their kids and some of them physically abused them. I never used to understand the anger and wrath they cause on their children. I used to hate seeing kids in my neighbourhood thrashed daily in the name of discipline claiming it is for the welfare of the children. I never understood why then and  even now.  Even at that young age I observed the shame in their eyes . They never wanted to look at you or talk to you even when they know you are their best friend. I am thankful for having a parents who never set any expectation for us .  They allowed us to make every choice in our life and never interfered in our academic choices. They neither celebrated our victories nor put us down for failing.  

When I was in high school I read an article about parenting in Readers Digest and  these lines stayed with me forever "As a parents I have no right to judge my kids or get angry at them.  When I think of the all experiences they brought to my life and realise how they enriched my life , I am thankful that I have them as my children in my life."  And every parent with special needs kids has the same view  like the author of the RD article.

When you are calm and quiet you can focus on things around you and observe.  And you will learn to respect people and their feeling well and never offend others with words or actions.  Though failure might come our way, we will be truly loved, cherished and respected by friends and family.  

Everybody is given a  choice to use kind words and inspire people with their goodness. Wecan make a decision to use that kindness more to special needs kids /adults.  The special needs community has only one request - DON'T JUDGE. .  Unkind words and  judgement  might prevent any kids from what they would be in their future.

Last in my special education week series, I present Nick Vujicic. If he is not going to inspire you , I don't think any body will

If you are blessed with kids who can talk to say I love you, run to you when you come home  and  hug you to make you feel their love,  go hug them and say "Thank you"  , thank you for all the  joys they bring to us.

Special Education Week - Day 6

An inspirational story of Dick & Rick Hoyt, the most inspirational father and son team to race in an Ironman. We get inspired by the end result but imagine the hours and years of hard work and dedication of his parents. Parents loving their children with all their heart with unconditional love and believing in purpose of their kid's life on this earth.  We  can all  inspire our children only if we believe in them with unconditional love.

Team Hoyt (source : http://www.teamhoyt.com/)

The Early Years

Rick was born in 1962 to Dick and Judy Hoyt. As a result of oxygen deprivation to Rick's brain at the time of his birth, Rick was diagnosed as a spastic quadriplegic with cerebral palsy. Dick and Judy were advised to institutionalize Rick because there was no chance of him recovering, and little hope for Rick to live a "normal" life. This was just the beginning of Dick and Judy's quest for Rick's inclusion in community, sports, education and one day, the workplace.

Dick and Judy soon realized that though Rick couldn't walk or speak; he was quite astute and his eyes would follow them around the room. They fought to integrate Rick into the public school system, pushing administrators to see beyond Rick's physical limitations. Dick and Judy would take Rick sledding and swimming, and even taught him the alphabet and basic words, like any other child. After providing concrete evidence of Rick's intellect and ability to learn like everyone else, Dick and Judy needed to find a way to help Rick communicate for himself. More...

With $5,000 in 1972 and a skilled group of engineers at Tufts University, an interactive computer was built for Rick. This computer consisted of a cursor being used to highlight every letter of the alphabet. Once the letter Rick wanted was highlighted, he was able to select it by just a simple tap with his head against a head piece attached to his wheelchair. When the computer was originally first brought home, Rick surprised everyone with his first words. Instead of saying, "Hi, Mom," or "Hi, Dad," Rick's first "spoken" words were: "Go, Bruins!" The Boston Bruins were in the Stanley Cup finals that season. It was clear from that moment on, that Rick loved sports and followed the game just like anyone else.

In 1975, at the age of 13, Rick was finally admitted into public school. After high school, Rick attended Boston University, and he graduated with a degree in Special Education in 1993. Dick retired in 1995 as a Lt. Colonel from the Air National Guard, after serving his country for 37 years.

The Beginning of Team Hoyt

In the spring of 1977, Rick told his father that he wanted to participate in a 5-mile benefit run for a Lacrosse player who had been paralyzed in an accident. Far from being a long-distance runner, Dick agreed to push Rick in his wheelchair and they finished all 5 miles, coming in next to last. That night, Rick told his father, "Dad, when I'm running, it feels like I'm not handicapped."

This realization was just the beginning of what would become over 1,000 races completed, including marathons, duathlons and triathlons (6 of them being Ironman competitions). Also adding to their list of achievements, Dick and Rick biked and ran across the U.S. in 1992, completing a full 3,735 miles in 45 days. More...

In a triathlon, Dick will pull Rick in a boat with a bungee cord attached to a vest around his waist and to the front of the boat for the swimming stage. For the biking stage, Rick will ride a special two-seater bicycle, and then Dick will push Rick in his custom made running chair (for the running stage).

Rick was once asked, if he could give his father one thing, what would it be? Rick responded, "The thing I'd most like is for my dad to sit in the chair and I would push him for once."

The 2009 Boston Marathon was officially Team Hoyt's 1000th race. Rick always says if it comes down to doing one race a year he would like it to be the Boston Marathon: his favorite race. Dick Hoyt hopes that he is able to push Rick in the Boston Marathon when he is 70 years old (2011)! Neither Dick or Rick are ready to retire yet.

Watch this inspirational Video

Special Education Week - Day 5

Another inspirational story about professor Stephen Hawking who has ALS.  Lot of ignorant people might have judged him as a little boy not able to play ball or do any physical activities because he looked normal. Yet he believed in himself. The keyword to his success is believe in yourself.  To all my readers who are going through some tough phase in your life  and people voluntarily or involuntarily making you feel depressed or putting you down with their ignorant, uneducated judgement  , please believe in yourself. Every  good deed is achievable only if you believe in yourself.

Professor Stephen Hawking (Source: http://www.hawking.org.uk/index.php/about-stephen).

I am quite often asked: How do you feel about having ALS? The answer is, not a lot. I try to lead as normal a life as possible, and not think about my condition, or regret the things it prevents me from doing, which are not that many.

It was a great shock to me to discover that I had motor neurone disease. I had never been very well co-ordinated physically as a child. I was not good at ball games, and my handwriting was the despair of my teachers. Maybe for this reason, I didn't care much for sport or physical activities. But things seemed to change when I went to Oxford, at the age of 17. I took up coxing and rowing. I was not Boat Race standard, but I got by at the level of inter-College competition.

In my third year at Oxford, however, I noticed that I seemed to be getting more clumsy, and I fell over once or twice for no apparent reason. But it was not until I was at Cambridge, in the following year, that my father noticed, and took me to the family doctor. He referred me to a specialist, and shortly after my 21st birthday, I went into hospital for tests. I was in for two weeks, during which I had a wide variety of tests. They took a muscle sample from my arm, stuck electrodes into me, and injected some radio opaque fluid into my spine, and watched it going up and down with x-rays, as they tilted the bed. After all that, they didn't tell me what I had, except that it was not multiple sclerosis, and that I was an a-typical case. I gathered, however, that they expected it to continue to get worse, and that there was nothing they could do, except give me vitamins. I could see that they didn't expect them to have much effect. I didn't feel like asking for more details, because they were obviously bad.

The realisation that I had an incurable disease, that was likely to kill me in a few years, was a bit of a shock. How could something like that happen to me? Why should I be cut off like this? However, while I had been in hospital, I had seen a boy I vaguely knew die of leukaemia, in the bed opposite me. It had not been a pretty sight. Clearly there were people who were worse off than me. At least my condition didn't make me feel sick. Whenever I feel inclined to be sorry for myself I remember that boy.

Not knowing what was going to happen to me, or how rapidly the disease would progress, I was at a loose end. The doctors told me to go back to Cambridge and carry on with the research I had just started in general relativity and cosmology. But I was not making much progress, because I didn't have much mathematical background. And, anyway, I might not live long enough to finish my PhD. I felt somewhat of a tragic character. I took to listening to Wagner, but reports in magazine articles that I drank heavily are an exaggeration. The trouble is once one article said it, other articles copied it, because it made a good story. People believe that anything that has appeared in print so many times must be true.

My dreams at that time were rather disturbed. Before my condition had been diagnosed, I had been very bored with life. There had not seemed to be anything worth doing. But shortly after I came out of hospital, I dreamt that I was going to be executed. I suddenly realised that there were a lot of worthwhile things I could do if I were reprieved. Another dream, that I had several times, was that I would sacrifice my life to save others. After all, if I were going to die anyway, it might as well do some good. But I didn't die. In fact, although there was a cloud hanging over my future, I found, to my surprise, that I was enjoying life in the present more than before. I began to make progress with my research, and I got engaged to a girl called Jane Wilde, whom I had met just about the time my condition was diagnosed. That engagement changed my life. It gave me something to live for. But it also meant that I had to get a job if we were to get married. I therefore applied for a research fellowship at Gonville and Caius (pronounced Keys) college, Cambridge. To my great surprise, I got a fellowship, and we got married a few months later.

The fellowship at Caius took care of my immediate employment problem. I was lucky to have chosen to work in theoretical physics, because that was one of the few areas in which my condition would not be a serious handicap. And I was fortunate that my scientific reputation increased, at the same time that my disability got worse. This meant that people were prepared to offer me a sequence of positions in which I only had to do research, without having to lecture.

We were also fortunate in housing. When we were married, Jane was still an undergraduate at Westfield College in London, so she had to go up to London during the week. This meant that we had to find somewhere I could manage on my own, and which was central, because I could not walk far. I asked the College if they could help, but was told by the then Bursar: it is College policy not to help Fellows with housing. We therefore put our name down to rent one of a group of new flats that were being built in the market place. (Years later, I discovered that those flats were actually owned by the College, but they didn't tell me that.) However, when we returned to Cambridge from a visit to America after the marriage, we found that the flats were not ready. As a great concession, the Bursar said we could have a room in a hostel for graduate students. He said, "We normally charge 12 shillings and 6 pence a night for this room. However, as there will be two of you in the room, we will charge 25 shillings." We stayed there only three nights. Then we found a small house about 100 yards from my university department. It belonged to another College, who had let it to one of its fellows. However he had moved out to a house he had bought in the suburbs. He sub-let the house to us for the remaining three months of his lease. During those three months, we found that another house in the same road was standing empty. A neighbour summoned the owner from Dorset, and told her that it was a scandal that her house should be empty, when young people were looking for accommodation. So she let the house to us. After we had lived there for a few years, we wanted to buy the house, and do it up. So we asked my College for a mortgage. However, the College did a survey, and decided it was not a good risk. In the end we got a mortgage from a building society, and my parents gave us the money to do it up. We lived there for another four years, but it became too difficult for me to manage the stairs. By this time, the College appreciated me rather more, and there was a different Bursar. They therefore offered us a ground floor flat in a house that they owned. This suited me very well, because it had large rooms and wide doors. It was sufficiently central that I could get to my University department, or the College, in my electric wheel chair. It was also nice for our three children, because it was surrounded by garden, which was looked after by the College gardeners.

Up to 1974, I was able to feed myself, and get in and out of bed. Jane managed to help me, and bring up the children, without outside help. However, things were getting more difficult, so we took to having one of my research students living with us. In return for free accommodation, and a lot of my attention, they helped me get up and go to bed. In 1980, we changed to a system of community and private nurses, who came in for an hour or two in the morning and evening. This lasted until I caught pneumonia in 1985. I had to have a tracheotomy operation. After this, I had to have 24 hour nursing care. This was made possible by grants from several foundations.

Before the operation, my speech had been getting more slurred, so that only a few people who knew me well, could understand me. But at least I could communicate. I wrote scientific papers by dictating to a secretary, and I gave seminars through an interpreter, who repeated my words more clearly. However, the tracheotomy operation removed my ability to speak altogether. For a time, the only way I could communicate was to spell out words letter by letter, by raising my eyebrows when someone pointed to the right letter on a spelling card. It is pretty difficult to carry on a conversation like that, let alone write a scientific paper. However, a computer expert in California, called Walt Woltosz, heard of my plight. He sent me a computer program he had written, called Equalizer. This allowed me to select words from a series of menus on the screen, by pressing a switch in my hand. The program could also be controlled by a switch, operated by head or eye movement. When I have built up what I want to say, I can send it to a speech synthesizer. At first, I just ran the Equalizer program on a desk top computer.

However David Mason, of Cambridge Adaptive Communication, fitted a small portable computer and a speech synthesizer to my wheel chair. This system allowed me to communicate much better than I could before. I can manage up to 15 words a minute. I can either speak what I have written, or save it to disk. I can then print it out, or call it back and speak it sentence by sentence. Using this system, I have written a book, and dozens of scientific papers. I have also given many scientific and popular talks. They have all been well received. I think that is in a large part due to the quality of the speech synthesiser, which is made by Speech Plus. One's voice is very important. If you have a slurred voice, people are likely to treat you as mentally deficient: Does he take sugar? This synthesiser is by far the best I have heard, because it varies the intonation, and doesn't speak like a Dalek. The only trouble is that it gives me an American accent.

I have had motor neurone disease for practically all my adult life. Yet it has not prevented me from having a very attractive family, and being successful in my work. This is thanks to the help I have received from Jane, my children, and a large number of other people and organisations. I have been lucky, that my condition has progressed more slowly than is often the case. But it shows that one need not lose hope.



 Sourece : http://www.hawking.org.uk/index.php/disability

Special Education Week - Day 3

I had very tough day last september dealing with NR with high fever and he was not willing to eat or drink fluids. I was so tired, sad and scary and went into little depressed mode thinking about the all challenges ahead of us. I switched on the TV, when NR took his afternoon nap and this programs comes in discovery channel.  Parents with unconditional love . It was such an inspirational story , I was so determined not to lose focus and never to lose my positive attitude not even for a minute.  When these parents can do an amazing job , our challenges with NR are nothing compared to this little amazing girl.  I always believed that god gives me experiences in life which I can handle .  You can watch the video here

Local Family Has Daughter Born Without a Face

Tom holds his daughter, Juliana

Tammy

Juliana is missing 30-40% of the bones in her face.

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By Jeannie Blaylock, First Coast News

JACKSONVILLE, FL -- When most parents have a baby, they spend months dreaming about what their bundle of joy will look like. Will she look like mom? Will he have dad's eyes? But for one local Navy family, the birth of their daughter didn't give them the answers to those questions. Their daughter was born without a face.

When Tammy was pregnant, she knew something was wrong. At worst, they thought maybe their baby had a cleft lip. So Tammy and her husband Tom went to the hospital happy until the birth.

"The nurse is like, 'We got her stable, we need to rush her upstairs,'" explains Tom, as he recalls every minute of that day. "And the nurse asked, 'Do you want your wife to see her now?'"

Tom says he thought to himself, "Before she gets the shock I did, let me take a picture so she's prepared."

Tammy hadn't seen her new baby yet, because she almost bled to death during delivery. Tammy would be okay, meanwhile, dad went to take pictures of his new daughter. But no matter what, these new parents had a wish.

"That if there was something wrong, she wouldn't be alone. We wanted to make sure she felt loved," said Tom, as he began to cry. "She squeezed my hand."

Little Juliana is missing 30 - 40 percent of the bones in her face. "She has no upper jaw, no cheek bones, no eye sockets, and she's missing the corner of her ear," explains Tom. Her birth defect is called Treacher Collins Syndrome.

Doctors say it's the worst case they've ever seen. So, how do you get people to see past all the defects, and find her heart? For mom, it just hurts.

"I just wish people would ask questions. Don't just stare," says Tammy. "I guess the most hurtful thing came not long ago, a little girl said she was disgusting."

Juliana has to eat through her stomach, and she has a trach to breathe. Already, less than two years into her life, she's had 14 surgeries. Doctors say she could need at least 30 more. Every time she goes to the hospital, doctors make a mold of her head, and then reconstruct her skull to figure out the next step. It's a life-long process that's draining for Tammy and Tom. Even still, they're thankful and full of love for their sweet child.

"God never gives you more than you can handle. I figure she has a lot to show everyone... to show the world," says Tom.

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Special Education week - Day 2

My friend posted this story on FB this monday.  Hardwork and determination from Naga naresh ,some good encouragement from parents and peers and kindness and generosity from the society are key elements in this success story.

The following articles is from http://www.funenclave.com/motivational-zone/naga-naresh-karutura-fighter-banks-godavari-20773.html

Naga Naresh Karutura : A fighter from the banks of Godavari to Google

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Naga Naresh Karutura has just passed out of IIT Madras in Computer Science and has joined Google in Bangalore. You may ask, what's so special about this 21-year-old when there are hundreds of students passing out from various IITs and joining big companies like Google?

Read why Naresh is special and what makes him feel that he is lucky.

Ever smiling, optimistic and full of spirit; that is Naresh. He says, "God has always been planning things for me. That is why I feel I am lucky."

Childhood in a village
I spent the first seven years of my life in Teeparru, a small village in Andhra Pradesh, on the banks of the river Godavari. My father Prasad was a lorry driver and my mother Kumari, a house wife. Though they were illiterate, my parents instilled in me and my elder sister (Sirisha) the importance of studying.

Looking back, one thing that surprises me now is the way my father taught me when I was in the 1st and 2nd standards. My father would ask me questions from the text book, and I would answer them. At that time, I didn't know he could not read or write but to make me happy, he helped me in my studies! Another memory that doesn't go away is the floods in the village and how I was carried on top of a buffalo by my uncle. I also remember plucking fruits from a tree that was full of thorns.

I used to be very naughty, running around and playing all the time with my friends. I used to get a lot of scolding for disturbing the elders who slept in the afternoon. The moment they started scolding, I would run away to the fields! I also remember finishing my school work fast in class and sleeping on the teacher's lap!

January 11, 1993, the fateful day
On the January 11, 1993 when we had the sankranti holidays, my mother took my sister and me to a nearby village for a family function. From there we were to go with our grandmother to our native place. But my grandmother did not come there. As there were no buses that day, my mother took a lift in my father's friend's lorry. As there were many people in the lorry, he made me sit next to him, close to the door.

It was my fault; I fiddled with the door latch and it opened wide throwing me out. As I fell, my legs got cut by the iron rods protruding from the lorry. Nothing happened to me except scratches on my legs. The accident had happened just in front of a big private hospital but they refused to treat me saying it was an accident case. Then a police constable who was passing by took us to a government hospital.

First I underwent an operation as my small intestine got twisted. The doctors also bandaged my legs. I was there for a week. When the doctors found that gangrene had developed and it had reached up to my knees, they asked my father to take me to a district hospital. There, the doctors scolded my parents a lot for neglecting the wounds and allowing the gangrene to develop. But what could my ignorant parents do?

In no time, both my legs were amputated up to the hips. I remember waking up and asking my mother, where are my legs? I also remember that my mother cried when I asked the question. I was in the hospital for three months.

Life without legs
I don't think my life changed dramatically after I lost both my legs. Because all at home were doting on me, I was enjoying all the attention rather than pitying myself. I was happy that I got a lot of fruits and biscuits.

The day I reached my village, my house was flooded with curious people; all of them wanted to know how a boy without legs looked. But I was not bothered; I was happy to see so many of them coming to see me, especially my friends! All my friends saw to it that I was part of all the games they played; they carried me everywhere.

God's hand
I believe in God. I believe in destiny. I feel he plans everything for you. If not for the accident, we would not have moved from the village to Tanuku, a town. There I joined a missionary school, and my father built a house next to the school. Till the tenth standard, I studied in that school.

If I had continued in Teeparu, I may not have studied after the 10th. I may have started working as a farmer or someone like that after my studies. I am sure God had other plans for me.

My sister, my friend
When the school was about to reopen, my parents moved from Teeparu to Tanuku, a town, and admitted both of us in a Missionary school. They decided to put my sister also in the same class though she is two years older. They thought she could take care of me if both of us were in the same class. My sister never complained.

She would be there for everything. Many of my friends used to tell me, you are so lucky to have such a loving sister. There are many who do not care for their siblings. She carried me in the school for a few years and after a while, my friends took over the task. When I got the tricycle, my sister used to push me around in the school.

My life, I would say, was normal, as everyone treated me like a normal kid. I never wallowed in self-pity. I was a happy boy and competed with others to be on top and the others also looked at me as a competitor.

Inspiration
I was inspired by two people when in school; my Maths teacher Pramod Lal who encouraged me to participate in various local talent tests, and a brilliant boy called Chowdhary, who was my senior.

When I came to know that he had joined Gowtham Junior College to prepare for IIT-JEE, it became my dream too. I was school first in 10th scoring 542/600. Because I topped in the state exams, Gowtham Junior College waived the fee for me. Pramod Sir's recommendation also helped. The fee was around Rs 50,000 per year, which my parents could never afford.

Moving to a residential school
Living in a residential school was a big change for me because till then my life centred around home and school and I had my parents and sister to take care of all my needs. It was the first time that I was interacting with society. It took one year for me to adjust to the new life.

There, my inspiration was a boy called K K S Bhaskar who was in the top 10 in IIT-JEE exams. He used to come to our school to encourage us. Though my parents didn't know anything about Gowtham Junior School or IIT, they always saw to it that I was encouraged in whatever I wanted to do. If the results were good, they would praise me to the skies and if bad, they would try to see something good in that. They did not want me to feel bad.

They are such wonderful supportive parents.

Life at IIT- Madras
Though my overall rank in the IIT-JEE was not that great (992), I was 4th in the physically handicapped category. So, I joined IIT, Madras to study Computer Science.

Here, my role model was Karthik who was also my senior in school. I looked up to him during my years at IIT- Madras. He had asked for attached bathrooms for those with special needs before I came here itself. So, when I came here, the room had attached bath. He used to help me and guide me a lot when I was here.

I evolved as a person in these four years, both academically and personally. It has been a great experience studying here. The people I was interacting with were so brilliant that I felt privileged to sit along with them in the class. Just by speaking to my lab mates, I gained a lot.

Words are inadequate to express my gratitude to Prof Pandurangan and all my lab mates; all were simply great. I was sent to Boston along with four others for our internship by Prof Pandurangan. It was a great experience.

Joining Google R&D
I did not want to pursue PhD as I wanted my parents to take rest now.
Morgan Stanley selected me first but I preferred Google because I wanted to work in pure computer science, algorithms and game theory.

I am lucky
Do you know why I say I am lucky?

I get help from total strangers without me asking for it. Once after my second year at IIT, I with some of my friends was travelling in a train for a conference. We met a kind gentleman called Sundar in the train, and he has been taking care of my hostel fees from then on.

I have to mention about Jaipur foot. I had Jaipur foot when I was in 3rd standard. After two years, I stopped using them. As I had almost no stems on my legs, it was very tough to tie them to the body. I found walking with Jaipur foot very, very slow. Sitting also was a problem. I found my tricycle faster because I am one guy who wants to do things faster.

One great thing about the hospital is, they don't think their role ends by just fixing the Jaipur foot; they arrange for livelihood for all. They asked me what help I needed from them. I told them at that time, if I got into an IIT, I needed financial help from them. So, from the day I joined IIT, Madras, my fees were taken care of by them. So, my education at the IIT was never a burden on my parents and they could take care of my sister's Nursing studies.

Surprise awaited me at IIT
After my first year, when I went home, two things happened here at the Institute without my knowledge.

I got a letter from my department that they had arranged a lift and ramps at the department for me. It also said that if I came a bit early and checked whether it met with my requirements, it would be good.

Second surprise was, the Dean, Prof Idichandy and the Students General Secretary, Prasad had located a place that sold powered wheel chairs. The cost was Rs 55,000. What they did was, they did not buy the wheel chair; they gave me the money so that the wheel chair belonged to me and not the institute.

My life changed after that. I felt free and independent. That's why I say I am lucky. God has planned things for me and takes care of me at every step.

The world is full of good people
I also feel if you are motivated and show some initiative, people around you will always help you. I also feel there are more good people in society than bad ones. I want all those who read this to feel that if Naresh can achieve something in life, you can too.

Bed time routine

 My little fellow loves music – music that is soft and soothing . He loves Carnatic music(thanks to amma) and I feel he has a good taste (just seeing his liking for certain songs and musicians).

My maternal family members say NR  looks like my appupa(maternal grandfather) and loves Carnatic music just like him. I sing “Omana thingal Kidavoo” (famous Malayalam lullaby) and Harivarasnam to NR everyday before his bed or nap time since his birth. Just these two songs soothe him well when he cries . My family recommended“Vatsalyam” CD by Bombay Jayashree   when he was born .He loves every song from that CD.

 We have this daily bed time routine at our home every night. After dinner, we spread NR’s favorite “Cars” blanket in our family room and sleep together for half an hour,  listening to vatsalyam CD . If  I am busy doing some chores upstairs, he will wait near the staircase waiting for me .  He runs around and goes near the CD player waiting for the new song to begin and runs back to the blanket to sleep between us. I have a good collection of  Bombay Jayashree CD's at home, so we listen to her songs throughout the day. He likes her voice and listens to all traditional Carnatic renditions by Jayashree.

Every year Bombay Jayashree and other famous Carnatic singers performs for Portland Carnatic music associations . I am a regular for all the carnatic concerts. Last June we had Jayashree’s concert and it was a pure bliss for three hours. She entertains the audience with variety of ragas and good choice of tamil and telugu keerthanams unlike others. I was able to speak to her last time and told her that she has an ardent two-year old fan at home. I couldn’t wait for NR to grow up and give me company during those music concerts.  I couldn’t wait for him to start speaking to share his feelings about the music he loves and enjoys with me. I am waiting, hoping and praying for that moment.

Happy New year 2011

Wishing my readers

" A very Happy, Healthy, Peaceful and Prosperous New year 2011".

Listen to this beautiful  poem written by great tamil poet Bharathiyar that consolidates  my new year wish every year since childhood.  Especially this year where we need  extra strength  and patience to deal with all challenges ahead with peace and prayers.

Manathil uruthi vendum song sung by K.J.Yesudoss in the movie Sindhu Bhairavi.

Translation of the poem " Manathil uruthi Vendum"  in english ( Source: http://audiopoetry.wordpress.com/2006/01/18/manathil-urudhi-vendum)

Let the mind be firm
Let the speech be sweet
Let the thoughts be noble
Let one attain what’s dear
Let all dreams come true
And quickly, too
Let there be wealth and happiness
And fame in this world
Let the eyes be open
Let one be determined in achieving one’s goals
Let the women attain freedom
Let God protect us all
Let the land be fertile
Let us feel the heaven here
Let the Truth prevail
Om Om Om Om

And I am grateful to know the Tamil language to understand appreciate this great poet's words.

PS: I know that a few people from my family and handful of friends read this blog regularly .  If you are a reader of this blog who doesn't come under family and friends group , can you please delurk and say hello.  Getting a "hello" from new blog  friends would be a fantastic way to welcome 2011.

Remembering V and R

It’s been a year since I lost my good friend V. Time does fly. The evening is so fresh in my memory.

First week of October, While driving to a store, I took a left turn and drove through the road and crossed the apartment complex where V used to live 10 years back. My eyes welled up and cried so much in the car to the point I couldn’t see the road. It was dark and raining and it could have been worse . I stopped at a business place and gathered myself (well I cried more) and then continued driving to the store.  

 I met her for the first time in that apartment complex and R was a toddler at that time. He hangs around his mom even when she attended the customers in her home based beauty salon. He knew about each beauty procedures  well and the time it took to complete. I often heard him complain to his mom that she was just supposed to do eyebrows not facial since it took long time to complete. He would ask me if I can come tomorrow for a facial so he can go out with his mom today. She would wink at me and give her trademark smile. He was a sweet little boy. Mom and son duo were inseparable.

She was a sweetest woman I have ever met in my life. She had a big heart and a big smile. And I wanted to remember only that and not the incidents that happened last November.

Hope

What  an amazing day today watching each Chilean miner come out of the tunnel to the ground. The relief and happiness displayed on everybody face around them was priceless to watch.

As rightly said by the famous chilean journalist/reporter - From this day chile will no longer be remembered for the military coup led by General Augusto Pinochet Ugarte but for this miraculous rescue effort.

• For Atheists this day symbolizes the power of man and technology


• For billions of people who believe in God this day symbolizes power of prayer and strengthened our Faith.  It was amazing to watch an entire country praying for miners.

              " More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of " ( a  line from Morte D Arthur)

But for all, this day symbolizes the power of Hope.

 No matter what happens in our life or how worse the situation might be, we need keep that hope alive and well.

Listen to my favorite song by my fav singer Celine Dion. I love the lyrics. 

Of Bloody Mary and Margaritas

During summer of 1999, I was returning to US from my six months vacation back home.I was travelling thru Singapore airlines via Singapore from Chennai.

 Majority of the Economy class travelers from Chennai to Singapore usually are people from rural areas of south India working in Singapore. It’s entertaining to watch their behavior in the flight.I have seen some of the merchants from Tamil Nadu mostly Muslim folks bringing “Briyani” with them. They sat together and ate Briyani as if they are on a bus/train just few minutes after the flight takes off.  The rural guys pestered the flight attendant for alcohol/drinks the moment they board the flight.

 I had a difficult time with one such guy who sat next to me. I was on aisle seat and he on the window seat.  He was this huge guy who kept drinking free alcohol glass after glass and dozed off to sleep. He was snoring like a dog and falling on my shoulders. I was such a soft naïve girl at that time, I didn’t even complain about this guy to the flight attendant. I never closed my eyes fearing some bad behavior from this guy. I almost applauded when the captain announced that we are about to land in Singapore.

 The next leg of journey from Singapore to Hong Kong was eventless. A good-looking Delhi girl boarded the flight in Hong Kong and seated next to me.  I was kind of relieved to have female co passenger for next stretch of long flight from Hong Kong to San Francisco. But I was too quick to judge her since she had such an attitude right from the start. She refused to speak to me, even when she spoke she had such arrogance in her tone. I am known for my patience but one thing which totally gets me is the egoistic and arrogant behavior of some annoying people. I refused to tolerate such people at any point in my life.

 Just an hour into the flight the delhi socialite (so-she-is-lowlife) started ordering drinks. I had little or no knowledge about type of alcohol drinks or name of the drinks at that time. She started ordering drinks like “Blood Mary” .For a catholic convent educated girl it was rather shocking/uneasy to hear such name. Next came Margaritas. The only Margarita I’ve known at that time was my school senior (my sister’s classmate). Madam happily drank all the free alcohol to her heart’s content (or should I say till she blacked out). I have my seen female colleagues drink at office party but this was my first encounter with a hard-core female drunkard. I refused to sleep this time fearing that she might throw up any time. I had to push her head from shoulders for a long 9 hours. She made the previous drunken male passenger look  like an angel . 

 When she woke up she spoke sporadically. She enquired my background and my destination city etc. I did the same and found that she was visiting her sister’s family in SFO for the first time. She openly expressed her disgust about other passengers and wondering their purpose of visit to US. One such passenger was an tamil woman wearing a Kandangi sari..

 The old woman kept talking loudly (her natural voice) to a girl she befriended on the flight. She spoke like any typical innocent village women but I could sense her courage .Her dress explained her humble background. From her conversation I came to know that she is visiting her son and this is her first time visit to  USA. I could not stop wondering how much hard she would have worked in her life to educate her son. She should have saved all those tiny change in her “Anjarai petti (grocery bin), for her son to get an education that too an education which landed him in USA. To me ,her mere journey to US was a success story of a mother who did everything in her power to give a good future to her son thru education.

Well my Delhi socialite thought otherwise. She spoke and looked at that old woman like an outcast. She went back to her routine of eating and drinking more alcohol and slept happily . While she slept the flight attendant distributed the immigration forms.

 The old woman got the form and enquired about it to the tamil girl sitting next to her. She got the help of her co passenger and filled the form ASAP. She had all the information needed to fill up the form. She did that effortlessly like a frequent flier. Even when I travelled for the first time to US, I had to get the form second time since I made some mistake. Her life experiences were far more superior to my academic knowledge. I realised she would have tackled other difficult situations in her life with such ease and common sense.

 An hour before the flight was about to land in SFO, the delhi girl got up from her sleep. She looked around and saw many passengers filling up the immigration forms. She asked me about it and I directed her to the flight attendant. When she started filling her form , she went into a panic mode. She did not have her sister’s address but only phone number. She cursed her sister for not informing about this in advance. I was wondering which idiot would travel around the world without a destination address in hand. She was a nervous wreck. I suggested that she make a phone call to her sister from airport phone and get the address else she will not clear the immigration.

 When we disembarked the flight I rushed to get my luggage since I had to catch my flight to Portland Oregon in an hour’s time. The old woman stood in the same line with me ( I didn’t  have my green card at that time) and cleared the immigration quickly. She spotted her son standing upstairs behind a glass wall and waved at him with such joy. I cannot forget that moment.

 I did not see the Delhi girl at all in that 30 minutes we stood in the immigration line. Probably she was trying to figure out how to use the US public phones to make a call to her sister.