Faith,hope and Love: Heart warming anecdotes on real life experiences

By Geeta Adhikari

This book is a compilation of the author's  life experiences over the last decade. It is about real-life anecdotes on her firm belief in faith, kindness, empathy and her love for life  and the uniform.  It so happens sometimes that in this fast-paced world, we forget to pause and wonder about the day-to-day blessings of life. This book is the  author's attempt to remind us of those little joys and lessons of life, through her own experiences; both in person and in her profession.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Rose Publishers
• Release date: Nov 23, 2022

Book preview

CLOSE TO MY HEART

DADAJI AND ME

December 11th 2013

It was a pleasant, cool evening in the city of Jodhpur. I was out on a walk with my dear Dadaji (grandfather). It was after quite some time that I got the opportunity to be with him (courtesy of my profession) but we made sure that we made the best of it. The slight cold of December made us walk hand in hand, close to each other, for warmth and comfort. Both of us talked a lot, each one narrating our tales, and experiences and sharing our own journey. Not bothering much about the time or distance (or even the cold), we came quite far. Just then we saw a children’s park and immediately exchanged glances and smiled. We didn’t have to say a word; the smile said it all… Let’s go there! And there we were, sitting in the swing, talking and laughing away to glory. All this made me go down memory lane.

As kids, every time when we had the school holidays, we went to our hometown (Ranikhet) to visit our grandparents. All of us siblings are especially very fond of our Dadaji (Grandfather). I remember Dadaji holding our hands, walking us from home to his workplace and

back. At night, after dinner, he gave us sweets and then it was story time. He told us about his childhood days, stories about our great grandfather, his valour and about his contribution to the freedom struggle; stories about our Papa as a kid and of course; about his own tales in the uniform (he is a retired Police Officer). We loved the stories so much that we didn’t mind the repetition. I guess listening to him took us to a magical world where everything was so overwhelming.

Today, during our walk and talk, I realised that even after so many years, nothing has changed. We are still going on the walks together, still sharing the stories together but the only difference is that now, I hold his hand and help him walk, instead of him doing that (as in my childhood days); now I narrate the stories and he listens; now I get him the sweets after dinner. I am the grown up now and he is the child. I, somehow, took the place of the caretaker. It’s obvious yet eccentric how time changes things but what is amazing is that despite all of that, SOME BONDS REMAIN FOREVER!

This passage of time is inevitable, however, let us make the best of it, while we have it. Let us take care of our parents and our elders. Sometimes we are so busy growing up; we forget that they are growing old too. Perhaps, we would not be able to repay what we owe them for their immense love, care and sacrifice, but we can surely try, right? They don’t want much from us, just our love and time. So go out there, get them flowers, take them out for meals, talk to them, write letters to them, hug them and make them smile.

Do those little things for them, it’s those little things that occupy the biggest place in their hearts.

THOSE WERE THE DAYS

June 9th 2014

I was finally home, on leave, after six months and there are no prizes for guessing that it felt great to unite with family after a long time. It was a bright and sunny summer day so I decided to laze around at home. I was just going through some of my old stuff and lo, I found what I call bundle of joy – the collection of our family photo albums. It brought the biggest smile to my face. I started to flip over the pages; recollecting and reliving those moments. Each photo reminded me of a particular memory or incident. Black & white snaps of our grandparents and parents, photos of us siblings in the funniest of clothes and poses and so much more. The memories of the good old days, of our childhood and of the times when everything was sweet, simple and innocent.

Those were the days… When we did not worry a tiny bit about putting on the hip clothes or shoes; all we cared about was to get together in the colony park to play along with our friends and get soiled. When we did not have the latest gadgets but still had the most fun with our limited choices on tv, in Doordarshan (be it waiting for Sundays to watch our favourite Mowgli in The Jungle Book or to watch Rangoli and Chitrahaar.) When we were not aware of a thing called Internet and despite no Facebook or Instagram, we had the best and the most genuine of friendships.

Those were the days… When our parents were not worried about sending us to the most prestigious school; they just cared about imparting the lessons of life to us. When in school, the most awaited time was the lunch hour, when we all shared our lunch boxes; where the most important lesson was not to become rich but to become a good human being. When we did not get a lot as pocket money but we valued its worth (though it pinched when our monthly budget shook up because of a contribution for a birthday present or a donation for charity at school, yet, deep within we felt the content.)

Those were the days… When we did not have social media for communication, we used to write to each other or make greeting cards (using the best set of our crayons); that joy of receiving a letter or a card is beyond words. When we did not have the fanciest of cars (though I bet most of the dads had a Bajaj Chetak once upon a time) yet we had the most enjoyable ride, the joy ride called LIFE. When the indoor sport was not a PUBG game over the tab, but a game of Snakes and Ladders or Ludo. When the Sunday treat was not a Zinger at KFC, but a matinee show at home, with the entire family tucked in the quilt, sipping over mumma’s chai and relishing it with the pakoras.

Remember those days? The days when small little things were worth much more than any of the luxuries today, the days when the proverb simple living, high thinking was for real, the days when our dreams were larger than life and even large were our