Hi all…
It has now become a routine to write blog. And I love to
stay connected with all my blog readers . Thus whenever I find some time I
would love to devote that time to my blog.
Weekend passed very swiftly that we are back to MOANDAY :-P
Saturday I attended an annual day celebration of one of my
cousins. He acted as a Santa in a Dance. He was dressed beautiful. Around 10 a.m
we were seated in the hall waiting for his performance.
I went there just to see my cousin’s performance. But as
soon as the program started the stage became a garden. The stage was filled with variety
of flowers, angels, butterflies , rabbits, elephants, tigers(garden turned into zoo) … True! The kids
were dressed in such a way. I thoroughly enjoyed each and every program. Kids
who were just 2 to 4 years are really tough to handle for practice. Kudos! To
the efforts of the teachers in that school.
You won’t believe. The kids did hard formations in dance;
they did few aasanas from yoga. I was stunned. No doubt I enjoyed being there
but I was waiting for my cousin. I waited, waited and waited at last he came up
on the stage. I just jumped with joy when I saw a Chota Santa on the stage. The
mask was too big that he couldn’t wear it on face. But he managed to have that
above his head. All the kids were dancing but my cousin was too shy to dance.
His teacher tried pushing him to the middle but he was comfortable by standing
in a corner of the stage. I was glad that he stood there at least without
crying.
When I was watching my Cousin in that stage I recollected my
own brother’s annual day celebration.
My friends love him so much. One day, directly from school
he came to my office. He invited my friends to his annual day celebration. He
said he is participating in a dance. He was very much excited at his participation
and compelled us to visit his school.We were all keen to watch him dancing. We
asked permission to leave early from office and all went to his school.
Programs started. We were far from the stage and couldn’t easily locate the
faces though we were able to watch the programs.
When I was studying in that school as I already mentioned in
my previous post. I was forced to participate in dance as the number of
students was less. But now school strength has grown leaps and bounds. In each
dance 20 kids are dancing that too with much synchronization. From that distant
we couldn’t locate my brother. We presumed many boys in each dance as my
brother. At last we finalized a boy (as we couldn’t confirm) as my brother and
enjoyed the dance with a big applause.
At the end of the day my brother came running to us. With a
sheer excitement and asked about his performance. Before giving the feed back
we thought to confirm in which dance he participated. After knowing the song we
were bewildered. We did not find anyone resembling my brother in that dance.
How come he could have participated in that dance?
That was a skit portrayed in that song. We asked him in
which part of the song he danced. We were so much disappointed when he said
that he was performing behind the white screen when they wanted to depict a
fight between two groups of people. He was one in the group fighting against
the other group. The saddest part is fight being behind the white screen. We have just
seen his shadow and we could not recognize that it was my brother. We did not
even have a clue that he’ll perform behind the screen.
My friends were also disappointed as I was. They enjoyed
that evening but couldn’t see my brother performing.
Same was the case with my cousin Saturday. I was happy that
at least I could recognize him on the stage. Kids are really energetic and
performing on the stage or outside the stage, in front of audience or at the
back stage doesn’t bother them. They are happy that they are performing. I wish
we were kids!!!
Moral: If we cherish our work and love doing our work
nothing bothers us. Appraisals, hikes, promotions etc etc will not affect us
when we love our work. Wish we were those kids!!
1 comment:
Super likes to the moral da..very nice :-) :-) :-)
Post a Comment