I denied doing a favor. Purposely and so wittingly for the first time in my memory. The boy who waved his hands from the bus-stop wouldn't have felt bad as much as I did, mostly because he would be doing it every day for commuting and a thousand of other bikers would be doing what I just did. The bike was not at a great speed, even though I did not bother to stop and further tried to hurry through the quiescent traffic before Akruti park road in Andheri East.

Would the boy have actually felt bad? Or did I do the right thing, by not stopping, so that eventually the boy would realize that no one would stop for him and revoke this habit of asking for lift? What if a kidnapper halts for him? Or if a molester tries to lure him with a lift? Am I justifying myself?

I'm seeing this Matrimonial ad since last 2 years, if I'm not wrong. Same girls, same face, same names! If these people can not get grooms for such beautiful girls in the last 2 years, what is the whole purpose of doing this? My humble doubt! :)

Yes, if we analyze, the missed opportunities are much more than the scored ones. Frustrations are more prevailing than those cheering moments and applause! But a goal, even if only one in the entire game, makes for all the 'misses' and keeps us walking heads up!

Warning; be sure you are not shooting at your own post :)

Bye, I need to sleep now.

There is some kind of ecstasy I feel, whenever hearing about FIFA World Cup. Though my country is not eligible to play in it, even though it's not my national game, I feel within me, a kind of addiction towards this game of the world.

I heard that in Kerala, there is a parallel mock World Cup, comprising of many local clubs named after those legendary soccer countries like, Brazil, Argentina, England, Germany etc. Their local heroes, though in front of a local audience and for a very short time, would play as the legendary players like Messi, Ronaldo, Beckham etc. Whoever wins or losses, the game of Football will win ultimately.

I support Argentina, England, Portugal and Japan! Who will you yodel for?

To download FIFA WORLD CUP Schdule as per IST, please click here.

Yes, coming very fast! Should we wait or should we run?

What melts my eyes most is my mother's love. Without the love she bestowed in me, I wouldn't have been able to write this, today.

The blames she received on account of her naughty sons and daughter, the nights that she forgot to sleep in our study room, the tensions she had willfully gone through during our examinations, the variety of food she made everyday against each one’s demand and the disapprovals whenever the food did not click, the silences and deep breaths when we gave her hurts, the smiles that we failed to recognize; her life has been fared bad!

Despite all this, I go ahead and wish her a Happy Mother’s Day and kisses! This wouldn’t make any difference but I think from this moment, I can make myself a better son to her!

And your mother! I wouldn’t know her, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing her! Here is her Happy Mother’s Day! Convey my love to her!

Mother; she knows only to love, but when we are not there to recognize her love, we are stopping a river from flowing, a flower from blossoming and spreading its fragrance around!

Dessert: I used to call my mother 'Aunty' till I became 4 years old. I had learned that from my elder cousins who used to stay with us during then and call my mother 'Aunty'.

We woke up listening to the untimely ring of the land phone! It was about 5 in the dawn! I kept listening to Ebie, who took the call! The deep sighs and dismay in her voice clearly told me that someone had passed away. In vain, I prayed and waited for something better from her tongue.

It was about a neighbor's death in Thrissur.

I'm particularly afraid of calls incoming early morning! I somehow feel that those are only to announce a dear one's death! They come only to keep us up on the bed, thinking the most painful thoughts. They come only to talk about someone's journey, a never ending journey.

Let's switch off the way we use the natural resources! Let's spread the message! Let's join with the world and shut down the power from 8:30 PM to 9:30 pm today.

Click to know more about Earth Hour

Story of an old man goes this way! A young boy saw an old man planting a mango tree on the roadside.
The young boy asked, 'Uncle, what foolishness are you doing? It would take several years for this plant to become a tree and bear fruits on it; by that time, you would probably be no more"

The old man replied; "Son, I know that I would die soon and would never get to eat a fruit from this tree, but tell me something, by the time you grow up and when you want to eat mangoes with friends, where will you go for it? That is why I'm doing this, this is for you and not for me"

When Karunakaran sir was teaching this story on the 1st standard of N.S.S LP school in choorakode, I did hardly understand the meaning behind it. But now today, in the midst of recession, global warming and Tsunami, the moral of such a story becomes the only hope. Switching off lights for 1 hour wouldn't save us from the threatening power shortages and immediate death of natural resources. But this can serve a strong message to thousands of minds, reminding them of this great duty they are otherwise about to miss, doing for their future generations!

Once again, let's switch off and pass the message!

During my first local- train journey in Bombay and I got caught by a ticket examiner at Dadar. I had thrown away my ticket after the one way's travel, never realizing that my ticket was meant for two way journey.

On my first attempt at an ATM near Wadala, the card was wrongly inserted and it was eaten up by the machine. On the bank, I could not reproduce my signature. Hence I waited till the card came back to my address.

The first ride on my brand new bike. I got caught at Kandivli, as the bike was not yet completely registered.

Prabhachechi had called just like that. She wanted to call me 'santhane' after a long time. That is how she calls me from childhood. (She used to call Achachan as 'Paatta' till lately; which means a cockroach in Malayalam. She also keeps an ‘edie-podie’ relationship with Amma. So comparatively, I've been fared decently).

As the talk ploughed down, she asked "Santhane, have you sent any SMS to Achachan last week?"

I said "No.. I haven't"

"Sure?"

"Yes I’m sure, but what SMS?"

"With Kisses and all"

"What??"

"Yeah.. Seems like a SMS from Ebie"

"Whaaaaat? Ebie has sent to Achachan?"

"No.. It is from your number.. So you must have sent it"

"What else there in that"

"Yey, Nothing much!! Some more kisses.. That’s all". She stopped, giggling.

I cut the phone. SMS from Ebie has been forwarded to Achachan! Whataplight? Whattosay? Whattodo?.

I called again and asked her to delete it. She said she had already discussed the happenings with Vino and Jaiho (Jaimol) and now there was no meaning in deleting it!

Previously, Vino had forwarded a message to Ebie that wrongly went to Daddy (Ebie's Pa). The content was like this "Nee po Maramakri" (Frog).
You will be surprised to know that this had happened even before our wedding has been fixed. Daddy was upset for sometime because he did not know who had sent this to him. Apologies had been made.

SMS. Short Messaging Shockers!

Write A Comment

Beggars normally won't get a chance to be choosers, but they can be effective sellers at times! That's what I had witnessed last week at Mahim and made me stand awestruck for a minute.

As I was already late to start off for Mahim church last Wednesday, I thought I should not park my bike, which would eat up at least 15 minutes to park, and five rupees. Instead, I chose to stand beside the church, on the main road itself, while our 3G, ('the Sreejith'), who was with me, had gone to offer his prayers. It was then I saw the 'beggar business' around me.

Like bees surrounding a hive, there were hundreds of beggars around the premise and sadly, a large number of them begged not for their stomach's yearnings, but for their nerves' cravings (by consuming drugs and alcohols). I could also see a lot of donators, who (rather than giving monies in the wrong hands), lavishly gave eatables like biscuit packets, bread-packs and sandwiches to these beggars.

The business started soon after each donor left. As I closely watched the entire scene, I saw many 'collectors' coming and buying these ready-made food packets from 'selected' beggars and going back (I guess to the shops again). They gave some money to the beggars per packet, which was seemingly a half of the actual price. This means, for a 10 Rupees Buiscuit he received, a beggar could get 5 Rupees from the collector. Look again, 10 biscuits = 50 Rupees.

A mini-political style right?

Why shouldn't we nominate these 'begsinessmen' to parliament? They could play a Financial Advisor role!

I have two close friends, Kartheesh, who was my classmate during PG, and Nagaraj, my colleague at Yahoo. Both are sons of Tamil Nadu!

I normally start my conversation with these guys with a fight in vernacular.

"Enikk innariyanam... mullapperiyarile vellam jnangalkku kittumo illeyonnu!! (Translation- I want to know right away, whether we, Keralites can take the water from Mullaperiyar Dam or not)

Or

Nee Jayaramine idikkarayi alleda?? (Are you upto beating our actor Jayaram, huh?)

Or

"Tharilleda...pachavellam tharilla jnan... nee aadyam ulliyude vila kurakk, ennittavam bakki" (No.. I won't give you even a drop of water.. first of all you cut down the price for Onions, we will talk afterwards")

Finally Kartheesh stopped calling me. Nagaraj, I fear, will take me to Dharavi and beat me up with his Gunda leaders there.

Write a Comment

Standing at Kandivali railway station in the mornings at around 9 AM would remind us of many cruel facts of life including the Darwin's 'Survival of the Fittest'. Trains would come and go, but no one would get in or get out except some muscle-powered-friends. In between, many of the Lilliputs like me would get hurt, tampered, pulled down, walked and ran over, sandwiched and bread-rolled by the maddened crowd or sometimes even ‘bubblegummed’ by the iron-hearted trains. Some others would climb the trains' roofs in search of solitude, but most often their destiny would meet up with an 'electrified ending.'

I had been a regular Local train commuter from Kandivali to Lower Parel in the mornings. There had been days when I pitied myself for waiting endlessly for a less-crowded train which I could aboard safely. In the very first glimpse, if the train had given me some hopes, symbolically looking like a sprout on the empty horizon, it would come closer soon, but only to encourage frustrations on my physicality and disquiet on the will-power dysfunction. Most often, the trains weren't fully crowded, but the unconcerned scoundrels standing at the doorway would make it hazardous for others to get in, so that they could stand comfortably. Within the few seconds' halt, the trains would move on, accompanied by rags and paper-scraps in the air, appearing like curses from the thousands who were left behind, thwarted.

One day, after leaving almost half a dozen of trains, I decided to board the forthcoming train any how. By the time the train arrived, I prepared myself for the impending fight, taking a deep breath to hold as much Oxygen and stretching my hopeless muscles to get-set-go at the right time. As the train came, I somehow managed to get hold of the train's door clamp. Except my palms and edges of my shoes, the whole body was out of the train and as the train started to move, I realized that the person standing in front of me was so unconcerned about moving into the compartment. My pushes ended on him as he was a senseless bulky mass of human flesh. The laptop bag hanging on my back aided my worries as each moment go, it weighed more. The train had gained a good speed by then, like the non-stop bhajan started by a group of passengers, was reaching its culmination. The next station was nowhere in the visibility as I stared earnestly. It became difficult for me to stand anymore.

My hands became weak and body shivered. I tried telling the fellow that I was about to fall down. He did not listen. In the next moment, I hit the man with my right hand using all the power left in me! He screamed and pushed himself into the compartment. Like a meek attachment on him, I too got in.

What followed was very shameful! The man undressed his mouth and wielded his dirty tongue mossy of bad words! Suddenly the bhajan stopped, the talks stopped and all eyes got fixed on me and the giant man. All his abuse was in Hindi or Marathi and hence I did not understand almost all of it. However, I felt bad for what I did.

"Pudi station.. Andheri" The Announcer reminded! The giant man's screaming now came to an end as he got stuck between the door and a huge crowd that was pushing him towards the door. He was forced to get down at Andheri and while getting back to the train, he again got himself fixed on the door panel!

No one was seen beyond him.


Write a Comment Now!

Let there be color-bottles being crushed on your Head! Let there be color-slaps all the way you go home! Let there be color bombs blasting at your home!

Let there be rainbows bowing in front of you! Yeah, all through this year!

Wishing you all the CMYK and RGB Colors! Wishing you a Happy HOLI-DAY!

Write a Comment Now!

Hi,

I have bought a new 'Gown' for my Blog; A pepper-colored party wear! It has two praiseful wavy fillets on both the sides, which is enough to have a lot of useful scoops from now on!

Leave a comment on how it looks like!

Write a Comment Now!

There is this story of Hibiscus.

We have a cousin, Sijo, who is only a few years younger to me. She was part of our Childhood gang in Edamon. Now she is working in some hospital in Delhi I guess, and not in constant touch with us. But thinking of our childhood esplanades, this forgetfulness is not fully acceptable.

Now our story.

When she was about 4 years old, Vinod and I, used to keep Hibiscus flowers on her pillow every night after making sure that she was asleep. In the mornings, she used to get anxious about the same and we had an answer, some Gandharvans must have kept it for you.

She was kind of loving the never seen Gandharvan and Hibiscus flowers.

I want my childhood back!

I again want to walk through the Rubber trees and make cricket balls with 'ottukara!'

I again want to catch the smell of ‘chenathandan’ and get cautious.

I again want to stop at Kumar's house and pick him to play with us.

I agan want to ride my 'Captain' cycle my Achachan brought for me from Sengottai and I again want to take Vino and Prabha on it.

I again want to sleep with my grandparents, ha!!

I want to darken my mustache again!

I still want to run down the mountain as we come back from the church in Edamon!

I want to get beaten by my teachers once more!

I again want to wave my hands to the meter-gauge train that passes by my home, and collect as many garlands thrown by Ayyappans!

I again want to miss a homework and write an imposition!

I again want to get taught by Amma! My pavam amma!

I again want to hide under a ‘vazhayila’, escaping from the rain and slowly get wet completely!

I want to see our cow, Mini and her children for the last time!

I again want to tie an ‘Oonjal’!

I again want to climb trees!

I again want to pick coins from Achachan's drawer and deny it till he finds it out.

I again want Ammachi's ‘Moru curry’.

I again want to make cigarretes from ‘chakiri’ and smoke it with my brother.

I want to go back once more!

Please take me back! Once more please?

(Glossary for those who do not know Malayalam)
Ottukara - the dried up latex on the tap mark on a rubber tree. One can tie it to make real rubber balls.
Chenathandan- a common snake in Kerala, which has no poison./ Smell of Chenathandan - An unpleasant smell of a kind of wild flower.
Ayyappans- the pilgrims of Sabarimala, who used to throw garlands towards us, the group of Children..
Vazhayila- Plantain leaf. One can easily stand under it during rain, but if the winds come, you will be cheated!
Oonjal- A swing tied on a tree as part of Onam in Kerala.
Moru curry- A tasty curry from Kerala, which is made from curd. Our Grandmother used to make the tastiest Moru curry we ever had.
Chakiri- Coconut shell's grains. We two used to fill this into a paper roll and smoke them as cigarettes. One day we go caught, and the story needs another post here.

Sorry, I meant to say, India is Shining in the ever-glowing, never-dying lights of Bombs!

This is Panikkathi, one of the heroins in this LIFE. We have done something terribly wrong to her by not calling her for the two weddings in my family. Since my wedding as well as my brother's wedding had happened within the span of two weeks in last August, there was less time for our memory to throw light on this great companion of three generations in our family.

However, we have washed a part of this sin-stain by visiting her in Edamon and took her back to our current home, at Nediyara (Close to Anchal).


And in the lucky-draw conducted during the Onam celebration at home, it was she, who won the prize money (there was only one). After every one had gone, she asked me whether I purposely gave her the prize by writing her name on all the coupons. I was smiling, but denied it saying, 'she was indeed lucky'!

Highly Inflammable! That could best describe our Achachan. Anger comes to him naturally, but more often, unintentionally.

As mischievousness was the most salient quality we two, Vinod and I, had, we were like lighters in front of a petrol bomb. We were staying at a village called Kilivayal, close to the town Adoor, where Achachan worked.

We returned from school only to play Cricket with all the neighborhood boys. Our friends involved almost all boys around our house, and that friendship was beyond every casts and creeds. Siju, Boban, Alby, Shiju, Anish, Suresh, Satyan, Sujit, Bhanu, Kalesh, Libu, etc were the major members belonged to our team we called ‘Kilivayal 11'

Most of the time we played on ground of St. Cyril’s College (where our Achachan teaches, even today). As the professor's children, we had an easy access to the College premises and ground and this had also helped us in tapping much respect from our friends.

Other times, after the harvest season and monsoon, we could use Edathundil Appachan's rice field as the play-ground. All the boys preferred this as it was much broader and the land had by now grown fresh grass which was soft and satiny. On this field, we could act like Jhontys and Yuvrajs as fielders.

Wherever was the ground, and whatever was the match, we had a strict timeline from Achachan to return home by 6 every day. After his daily works and friend-meets, he would come back home and wait in the sit-out of our rented home, (which also belonged to Edathundil Appachan), reading a newspaper. Repeatedly, he would raise his head and see whether we were coming from play. As you would have expected by now, most of the days we played beyond gone beyond six and six thirties. But Achachan could not catch us every time, as we used to come by a back-side route and sneaked into home using the back door. Amma had been the only witness to our 'we-have-been-here-since-long' kind of strolling through the kitchen door and those almost-silent murmurs exchanged between us. She never used to reveal our 'crash-landing' though. But whenever we got caught by Achachan for being too late, either he would give us a deadly stare, which was severe than a stone pelt, or, though rarely, some minor 'caning treatments'

One day there was this cricket tournament we declared against Vayala, a village close by. The stake was nothing less but 5 rupees! :). The match was pretty cutthroat, and both the teams played hard to win the prize money. At the end, somehow it ended up in a verbal fight. And by the time we reached home, it was close to eight o clock. After having a bath at the well itself, we slid into the house through the kitchen door like usual, but directly landed up in front of Achachan who was sitting in the prayer room. He was really angry seeing us coming at such an odd time.

Breaths got stuck between the befuddling tension we were going through. Till now he had not opened his mouth at all but it was obvious that a lot of words have already piled up against us and plodding on his tongue, impatiently. Slowly he made us to see that he was intentionally looking at the cane that was kept near the window. We also gave it an unfriendly look and we got the clue (as expected). It was a new cane, freshly cut from the nearby communist pacha (Munnani, we call the plant).

As Prabha (our all-time negotiator to Achachan) had already started with the daily-evening prayers, he felt like postponing his decision on us till the prayer ends. It was more painful to wait for the punishment than to get it at the moment. We also took part in the prayer but passively. Our minds were full of the upcoming moments.

After the prayer songs, it was time to read from the Bible. At his turn, Achachan took the Bible, and started reading aloud. He looked like too much tensed about his boys' irresponsible attitude on life as he flipped the pages towards the New Testament. His first verse came like this; "pishachakunnu ningalude pithavu"! (John 8:44- You belong to your father, the devil). Alas! We raised our heads unbelievably. He had stopped reading there but was still looking into the Bible.

A second later, Achachan laughed aloud. In the next few moments what we witnessed was one of the greatest laughter rounds in our home. We could not believe he actually got to read it. Amma judged that he deserved it, as she never liked our 'angry Achachan'.

In the end, he forgot about the punishment and we hid the communist pacha in right time.

Jesus saves. Yes!

Whenever the sisters from Powai convent meet Femin chettan, they will have only one subject to talk about; Agnes, our Aggie. It is because Aggie now goes to the play school runs by the sisters and her talks become big-talks around there and among all who know Aggie.

Deena sister revealed the latest Aggie-talk to Femin chettan yesterday. After seeing the Sister in the same nunnery uniform every day, Aggie couldn't help pouring her heart out to Sister sometime last week. As she thought the Sister doesn’t have as many clothes to change everyday, she had an offer in mind; "Sister I will ask my amma to get you new clothes when she comes from the US"

What to tell back, the sister just nodded.

She was on a month's trip to Washington with her Appa, to meet her Amma, Jilly. In her own words, her schedule also contained a glance of 'Obama uncle' but she told us that he did not come out while she was out there. (This is what Femin chettan made her to believe, I think).

After coming back to India, though she did not have much of a 'Jet Lag' as expected by us, she had enough of something we felt as an 'Eat Lag' as she was busy trying a Fork on a chapatti.

What attracted us more was not anything above, but her recent multilingual talk-attempts as she approached one by one. While she asked 'Paani' to her maid, 'Water' was that she asked to her Aunty. And it was 'Vellam' she wanted from Ebie.

As Aggie-talk goes on like this, let's wait for something funnier very soon.

Talking on Cellphone in an ATM could be fatal to your monetary health. It could easily cheat your thoughts and free you off your savings. And sharing an ATM centre with such people could be dangerous too and my story will substantiate this point.

I was busy begging some money to one of the money telling machines kept at the famous Powai Galleria branch of ICICI Bank. Then this 'lady on phone' entered with so much to talk and conclude with no more minutes to spare. She kept on talking while the machine ate her card, chewed it and finally excreted the money she demanded. Since she was too busy or such over-confident that the machine wouldn't make a mistake in counting, she did not even count the notes and left the Machine like a ball bounced back.

After a second's silence, the machine started screaming as if something got stuck in its stomach. I looked back and saw her card not taken back by her and thus the machine was angrily screaming. Without thinking much, I took the card out and flung to look for her. But she had disappeared.

I proceeded to the bank branch attached to the ATM centre and gave the card to one of the senior executives. He offered me a seat and asked my name. Respectfully, he then sped up the little banking I had to do.

While coming out of the bank, a chill struck my thoughts and I asked myself, what if this bank executive wouldn't handover the card to its owner? What proof I have that I handed over the card to the bank? One thing was obvious; the machine had captured my face, while I took the card out. And what if it never reaches its owner? Who will stand chargeable?

I walked back to the bank and confirmed with the man whether he could give me some declaration that I had handed the card over to the bank. He said, he had already informed the card owner and she was rushing back. Another executive came and thanked for what I did.

While walking back with the peace I acquired, a sad fact came into my thoughts. Today, we barely trust any one. Rather we can't. A wholehearted help to the other could land you up in pitiful trouble. In the drought of truth and wholeheartedness, our minds have dried up to a materialistic desert full of greed and self-importance.

And another truth revealed itself as the moral of the story. I realized that even I had done this mistake by talking on phone while attending the ATM machine. It was indeed a great lesson, why I shouldn't do it again.

Overheard this funny news. A colleague of mine had gone proudly to test drive one of those luxurious BMW Cars (Costing around 70 lakh Rupees).

They asked him not his driving licence or identity proof, but the salary slip. Having no such document in hand, he then revealed them what is salary was.

They showed him the door politely.

We had a narrow escape.

I had told about this Gun I purchased from Mount Abu. It was a Toy Gun, only good for aiming, but looked almost like a BAP.

We had come to Ahmedabad and thought of visiting the famous Kankaria Carnival. We came to the entrance and got stumbled by the heavy pack of Police officers at the gate with tight security practices. Without having the Gun floating on my thought-ripples, I tried to enter though the man's gate, but they dissuaded me saying I would not be allowed to get inside carrying a trolley. They also mentioned that if I were accompanied by a lady, then the luggage could be brought inside through the woman's gate. Ebie was looking at me from the other side and came out to me.

Ebie took the trolley and walked into her check in gate. At once I thought of the Gun and got a daunting blow in mind like a shot being fired right onto my head. I had come inside and this girl was being screened by a couple of officers.


Ebie was asked to show her handbag. Next, they would open the trolley, I thought. I took out the gun's bill and stood ready to intervene. But she was cool and smilingly showed the bag and told them why she had to come with a bag and trolley. They found some clothes and fruits in her handbag and they were pleased. And her smile did the rest of the job.

By now, the handbag was checked completely. And Ebie played her trick at the right time. Humbly, she put forward the trolley and showed that she was going to open it.

They stopped her! I was looking at these from a distance and from their body language I could guess the entire twist in the story! A smile broadened my face.

So nice of a lady, they asked her to withdraw from being checked and proceed to the Carnival! She was too trustworthy to be screened! Talent show, isn't it?

I am now thinking about the bad time I took to meet this great actress, during my consequential Kerala journey by train. I could have had an easy evasion.

Straight to the point; Wishing all who read this, a Grand, Phenomenal New Year with astonishing things all around through out the year! I'm sure, this will be a remarkable year in your wonderful life!

Last year, I have had a merry-ride through out the night, with 3G, (our Sreeji) on my Bike's back seat. We went almost till Bandra, landed up at St. Andrew's Church and thus could attend the New Year Mass, and continued to roam around the place till early morning having multiple Masala teas. We wanted to have a fun-raid alongside the Juhu shores, but there was some riot going on during those wee hours and hence we dissuaded the plan. The next day, papers showed the news of two young women who got molested at Juhu by a group of men and that had caused the riot-like situation. A large number of men had been arrested.

The year before that, I have had a New Year toast with my Aunty and Uncle at Kalina. We have always shared a toast for all major occasions and Aunty had a special charm to 'Okay' my toast plans for New Year, as she would get new Glass tumblers from the wine-shop as gift on New Year sale.

This year, I'm with Ebie, which is something I never thought of an Year before. We went for New Year Mass together, came back and watched the Fireworks at Skyline Villa, where are staying temporarily. We invited 3G for today's lunch. Ebie cooked one of the tastiest Prawns curries I ever had and later we watched a movie, Kanchipurathe Kalyanam, which turned out to be stupid time pass.

The New Year celebrations are over, but not the New Year. Most of it is still there and we are only at it's tooth's side. So let's take it to heart and treat all the days in this new year as New Year Days. Lets celebrate each day.

One more point. A New Year is, was and has been expected, but not all the happenings in it. There would be goods and bads. There might be be all nights and no days. There could be rivers stop flowing and mountains dancing. But let's be cool and be prepared. Lets be strong in mind, but easy in demeanor.