Thucydides said

Thucydides said, "The secret of happiness is freedom. And the secret of freedom, courage"

I often thought that I ranked 'way above average' when it comes to courage. Not the kind of  'let's jump off a cliff for a skinny dip' courage, or 'let's sleep in a haunted house' courage, or 'let's do a 100m bungee jump' courage. Nay, not that kind of courage. 

Rather the kind of courage that doesn't think twice to confront a misbehaving stranger on a bus, the kind who doesnt hesitate to call the cops on some random jerks on the buses trying to molest women, or the kind who doesnt take it low at work be it a colleague, or my boss or his boss if I dont like something (and hence is often not well liked). 

But, at times, I have this nagging doubt that I am courageous not because I am aware of the precariousness and the dangers of my actions, but rather, I am foolish and naive to know of them. Or lack the tact and sauve to tackle the situation. So am I still technically courageous? 

I am confused.

Advice & Wisdom

"He advised those who had no government of themselves never to taste of things that tempt a man to eat when he is no longer hungry, to drink when his thirst is already quenched, because it is this that spoils the stomach, causes the headache, and puts the soul into disorder."

Welcome Party Antics

Yesterday I came across an unfinished post recollecting the embarrassment I and my cousins put my sister through in 2001 while receiving her at an undisclosed airport in Arizona. It was loads of fun planning the whole sham. It was winter vacation. I went to my uncle's place in an undisclosed great American suburbia in Arizona. So, did two other cousins from up North and Canada. My sister was the last to fly into Arizona. So, we all put our heads together to make her feel very 'welcome' by organizing a welcome procession at the airport.

Banner

Every welcome party, needs a banner. So, the first task was to make one that screamed "Welcome Name-of-Sister!" I employed the talents of my uncle's 3 year old, Cousin A to come up with the artwork to 'decorate' the screaming letter written in pencil. She scribble mysterious things that vaguely looked like lop sided flowers with wings, dogs that looked like a horse with three legs ("it hurted it's leg and it dropped off"), stick figure and other such crap that parents gush about when kids like A draw them. In case u dint get the idea, she did a disgusting job out of it. Which was the general effect we wanted of course. To hold up the banner, we glued the banner to two tall twigs we found in the backyard.

Garland

Garlands made out of money are  a common gesture in India. So, we decided to make one with monopoly currency. My aunt though was a fly in the ointment. She absolutely refused to allow us to waste good Monopoly money on this mad sham. So, we just glued cut white paper with dollar sign. The skilful artwork was again provided by the 3 year old Cousin A (who by now is beside herself  with self importance as we found her talents crucial).

Music

Cousin Ash (all of 6 years found his toy plastic drums (the kind that you sling around your neck for marching bands) meant for 3 year olds. I dug up a toy cymbals that made quite a ruckus.

The Welcome

Uncle drove us to the airport. He was armed with a camera. We are a very mature family, I suppose. The welcome party consisted of my uncle, 3 year old Cousin A, 6 year old Cousin Ash, 26ish Cousin K, 31ish Cousin G and myself. My aunt politely opted out of this sham.

Anticipation was high as we waited at the arrival gates.

We caught sight of her. She was a 30m away.

She waved.

I signalled.

The hideous, lopsided paper banner with glue stains and Dali-esque artwork was popped up and unfurled to full glory.

My sister blinked.

We chanted "Welcome, welcome to Name of Sister"

She stopped.

Everybody stared.

Cousin Ash added the background score. He began thumping his heart away on the plastic drums.

Everybody stared some more. Some sniggered. Others shook their heads.

This was a lot more embarrassing for us than I thought it would be, but oh heck, damn the torpedos, full speed ahead!

Meanwhile my sister was wildly looking for an escape route.

We were making our way towards her. Then the final touch – the paper garland was extracted from the plastic grocery bag.

She abandoned her cabin bag and tried to run.

Amused passerbys made way a little. 

Cousin Ash abandoned the toy drums and lunged at her thighs, I latched on to her shoulders. Then Cousin G, pushed the garland over her head. The welcome was complete. Needless to say, my sister sputtered with rage and embarassment or at least half a day. She thought we were all terribly unclassy and vulgar. Garn! I say, we had a load of fun, as long as it was someone else being welcomed.