A Name on a Gift: When Giving Becomes a Memory

    

 

Names are special. How special? Perhaps more than we realise.

A name is not merely a word given to us. It becomes a part of our identity, something we grow into and carry throughout our lives. For all of us, our names follow a fascinating journey.

It begins with our birth certificate and official records. Then comes the school application, examination forms, certificates, passports, bank passbooks and countless other documents. Our names slowly find their way into every important chapter of our lives.

But there is another, more affectionate side to our names.

Our loved ones often give us pet names—short, sweet and sometimes completely unrelated to our given names. These names belong to our families. They carry familiarity, affection and memories. Sometimes, hearing that pet name after many years can take us straight back to our childhood.

And then there are names written on gifts.

When we give someone a gift, we often write our name on the gift card. With love, from… A simple message, followed by our name, tells the recipient who thought of them and wanted to make the occasion special.

Sometimes, however, the name does not remain on a card.

It becomes a permanent part of the gift.

In our traditional families, particularly during a wedding, a bride may be sent to her new home with a collection of household articles. Stainless steel vessels, silver articles, brass, bronze and copper utensils have traditionally formed part of this collection.

And what makes them even more personal?

Her name. Her initials. Or sometimes her pet name.

These were engraved on the vessels and other belongings.

There was a practical reason behind this. When several families had similar vessels and household articles, an engraved name or initial made it easier to identify what belonged to whom. It offered clarity and, in a way, protection against confusion or accidental exchange.

But there was something more than practicality involved.

Imagine opening a vessel years later and seeing your name engraved on it.

It is no longer simply a vessel.

It becomes your vessel.

Perhaps it came from your parents when you were married. Perhaps your mother carefully selected it. Perhaps relatives contributed to the collection. Perhaps someone had your pet name engraved because that was how they had always addressed you.

The object becomes a keeper of memories.

The same happens with other gifts. A wedding present, a silver tumbler, a plate, a bowl, a pen, a diary or even a small keepsake can become more meaningful when the giver puts their name on it—or has the recipient's name engraved on it.

A gift card can carry a loving message:

With love,
From Amma and Appa.

The message may fade with time, the card may be misplaced, but the memory of receiving that gift remains.

Engraving takes it a step further. The name becomes part of the object itself.

There is something beautiful about that permanence.

Today, we live in a world where gifts are ordered online, wrapped and delivered directly to the recipient. Sometimes we may not even know what the packaging looks like. A digital message may accompany the gift instead of a handwritten card.

Yet the simple act of putting a name on a gift continues to hold a special charm.

It says, This was chosen for you.

It says, I thought of you.

And when the giver's name is added, it also says, Remember who gave this to you.

Names therefore travel with us in many forms—from official documents to school records, from wedding invitations to bank passbooks, from gift cards to engraved vessels.

Some names are printed.

Some are written.

Some are lovingly called.

And some are engraved in metal, so that even the passing of years cannot easily erase them.

Perhaps that is why a name on a gift feels different.

The gift may be ordinary.

But when a name is attached to it, it becomes personal, memorable and filled with affection.

Because sometimes, the most beautiful thing we can gift someone is not the object itself, but the memory of who gave it, why they gave it, and with how much love.

Acceptance: The Quiet Strength Behind Resilience

From Tolerating Life to Accepting It: Finding Strength in Every Season

"We cannot always choose what happens to us, but we can choose how we receive it."

In my earlier post, I explored the difference between tolerance and acceptance in our relationships with people. But the same distinction applies to something even more personal—our relationship with life itself.

Every day brings its own share of challenges. Some are minor inconveniences, while others test our patience, resilience, and faith.

How do we respond?

Do we merely tolerate life's hardships, or do we truly accept them?

The answer often determines our peace of mind.

What Does It Mean to Tolerate Life?

Tolerance in difficult situations often sounds like this:

"I have no choice. I just have to put up with it."

There is resistance in the mind.

We complain.

We count the days until the problem disappears.

We spend more energy wishing reality were different than dealing with reality itself.

Life feels heavy because we are fighting not only the problem but also its existence.

What Does Acceptance Mean?

Acceptance is different.

It does not mean giving up.

It does not mean enjoying suffering.

It simply means acknowledging reality without constantly arguing with it.

Acceptance says,

"This is where I am today. I may not like it, but I will deal with it with clarity and courage."

When we stop resisting reality, we free our energy to respond wisely.

Acceptance is not surrender to circumstances; it is surrender to the fact that this moment is already here.

Everyday Examples

Waiting in a Long Queue

Tolerance:
You keep looking at your watch, complain about the delay, become irritated, and carry that frustration throughout the day.

Acceptance:
You realise the queue is unavoidable. You read a few pages of a book, listen to a podcast, or simply observe the people around you.

The waiting time hasn't changed.

Your experience of it has.

 

Chennai's Summer Heat

We may complain every day about the soaring temperatures.

But acceptance means adjusting our routine—drinking more water, planning outdoor work early in the morning, wearing comfortable cotton clothes, and slowing down when necessary.

The weather doesn't change because we dislike it.

Our response can.

 

Caring for Elderly Parents

Caregiving can be physically demanding and emotionally exhausting.

Tolerance makes every responsibility feel like a burden.

Acceptance reminds us that caring for those who once cared for us is also an expression of gratitude and love.

The work remains the same.

Its meaning changes.

 

Facing Career or Financial Setbacks

A promotion may not come.

A business may struggle.

Plans may be delayed.

Tolerance keeps asking,

"Why is this happening to me?"

Acceptance asks,

"What can I learn from this situation, and what is the next right step?"

The second question leads to action instead of helplessness.

Acceptance Is Active, Not Passive

Many people mistake acceptance for resignation.

They think accepting hardship means doing nothing.

Not at all.

Imagine a sailor caught in a storm.

The sailor first accepts that the sea is rough.

Only then can the sails be adjusted.

Denying the storm does not calm the ocean.

Accepting it allows wise action.

Similarly, accepting life's difficulties often becomes the first step toward solving them.

Nature Is Our Best Teacher

The seasons never argue with one another.

Summer does not resent the monsoon.

Autumn does not compete with spring.

Each season arrives, serves its purpose, and moves on.

Life also has seasons.

There are times of abundance and times of waiting.

Times of celebration and times of quiet endurance.

Accepting each season makes us less anxious about its arrival and less afraid of its departure.

Small Practices That Build Acceptance

Acceptance is not a single decision. It is a daily habit.

You can cultivate it by:

Beginning the day without expecting everything to go according to plan.

Asking, "What can I control?" instead of dwelling on what you cannot.

Treating mistakes as lessons rather than personal failures.

Practising gratitude, even on difficult days.

Remembering that every hardship is temporary, just as every joyful moment is.

Being kind to yourself while continuing to move forward.

A Thought to Carry

Tolerance says,

"I will somehow survive this."

Acceptance says,

"This is part of my journey. Let me walk through it with patience, wisdom, and hope."

There is remarkable peace in that shift.

Not because life becomes easier, but because we stop exhausting ourselves by fighting every wave.

We learn to navigate them instead.

Final Reflection

Life will continue to surprise us—with joys we never expected and difficulties we never invited.

We cannot always choose our circumstances.

But we can choose whether we merely endure them or grow through them.

Perhaps that is the quiet wisdom life teaches us over the years:

When we stop resisting every hardship and start accepting it as a teacher, we discover that resilience is not born from easy days but from the courage to embrace difficult ones.

   

A Book of Books: A Celebration of the Joy of Reading

   

 

Some books find their way to us unexpectedly. Some remain on our wish list for a long time, waiting for the right moment. A Book of Books by Sonali Bendre Behl belongs to the second category for me. It had been a long-standing dream of mine to own this book, especially after reading so many reviews and recommendations from readers around the world. When I finally got my hands on it, the dream came true—100 per cent!

Published by HarperCollins, this is a book that is impressive in more ways than one. It is literally heavy because of its size and weight, but it is equally heavy in terms of its content and quality.

From the moment you open it, the colourful presentation draws you in. The smooth pages, attractive fonts and delightful illustrations scattered throughout the book make it difficult to put down. Designed by Rohini Thapar, the book is visually inviting and thoughtfully put together. Even adults can become a little crazy about simply holding and turning its pages—and the joy of reading gets doubled.

But this is much more than a beautifully designed book. It takes readers on a fascinating journey through the world of books and reading—from ancient times to the present day. Libraries, books, different formats of reading, book clubs and book recommendations are all explored with enthusiasm and care.

What makes the book particularly special is its larger purpose: to encourage people to read and to help them discover or rediscover the joy of reading. The message is not merely stated; it is supported with information, examples and evidence, making the book a testimony to the wonderful world of books, readers and the reading habit.

The profound joy of reading is presented throughout the book in an accessible and encouraging manner. For someone who is new to reading, it offers a gentle beginning. For those who have drifted away from books for some time, it provides the encouragement to start afresh and continue. That assurance comes through clearly.

The importance of developing the reading habit from a young age is also emphasised, with suggestions for children as well as adults. The recommendations and guidance are presented step by step, making the journey into reading feel achievable rather than overwhelming.

I particularly enjoyed the interactive elements. Some pages are deliberately left blank, inviting readers to pause, reflect and respond to prompts. These exercises encourage us to focus, imagine, set a vision and think about our own relationship with books and reading.

A Book of Books is, therefore, not simply a book about books. It is an invitation to become a reader, to return to reading, and to celebrate the happiness that books can bring.

For anyone who loves books, for those who want to develop a reading habit, and especially for those who have somehow lost touch with reading, this is a must-have addition to the bookshelf. It is the kind of book you can return to whenever you need to strengthen your reading habit or simply remind yourself why you fell in love with books in the first place.

By the time you close the book, you may feel as though you have climbed a mountain—or risen like a great tower—with a sense of pride and happiness at being part of the wonderful world of books and readers.

A book of books, indeed—and a celebration of the profound joy of reading.

The Mess Before the Magic

 

Take a cue from a watermelon. It looks simple enough from the outside, but getting to the juicy, sweet part involves a little effort. You have to wash it, cut it, deal with the thick rind, remove the seeds if necessary, and make your way through the mess before enjoying it.

Life is often like that.

Some things we bring into our lives look complicated, inconvenient and even intimidating when we first encounter them. We struggle to understand them, wonder why we bought them in the first place, and sometimes even feel that the older, simpler version was much better.

But give it some time.

Practice changes everything.

Think about the first time you used a new appliance or gadget. The instruction manual may have looked like a small textbook. There were buttons, attachments, settings, warnings and instructions that seemed unnecessarily complicated.

A new peeler may have a different grip.

A chopper may have a mechanism that takes a few attempts to understand.

A 1000-watt mixer grinder may come with several jars, blades and speed settings. Initially, you may stand there wondering which jar is meant for what and how tightly everything has to be fitted.

Then, slowly, you get the hang of it.

The hand automatically knows which attachment to pick. You know how much pressure to apply. You understand which speed works best. What once seemed complicated becomes effortless.

The appliance has not changed.

You have changed.

You have learnt how to use it.

Technology gives us another lesson

The same thing happens when we move from an old phone to a new Android phone.

The screen looks different. The settings are somewhere else. An application that was easy to find earlier seems to have disappeared. You search for familiar options, accidentally open something else, and sometimes wonder, Why did they have to change this?

A new version of a laptop can be equally frustrating.

The keyboard may be slightly different. The settings may have moved. A familiar function may now require two clicks instead of one. Even something as simple as connecting a device or changing a setting can become an exercise in patience.

But after a few days or weeks, we stop thinking about it.

Our fingers remember.

Our eyes recognise the icons.

Our mind understands the system.

And suddenly, the device that initially seemed difficult becomes something we cannot imagine working without.

Even small things can test our patience

It isn't always technology.

Take a new marker. The first few strokes may be uneven. We experiment with the pressure and angle until we understand how it writes.

A sofa-cum-bed can look wonderfully convenient until we have to figure out exactly how it opens, folds, locks and closes. The first attempt can feel like solving a puzzle.

Even something as tiny as a hair clip can have its own mechanism. We struggle to open it correctly, position it properly and secure our hair. After repeated use, our fingers do the job almost automatically.

And then there are those tiny pieces of jewellery that can test the patience of the calmest person!

The lock of a stone-studded bracelet, the tiny clasp of a diamond necklace, or something as simple as a nose ring can require an unexpected amount of dexterity. What looks effortless when someone else wears it can be quite a task when we try it ourselves.

Different products, different brands, different models and different mechanisms come with their own instructions.

The instruction manual tells us how.

But practice teaches us how to make it work for us.

The manual is only the beginning

Every new object comes with its own learning curve.

We read the instructions.

We watch someone demonstrate it.

We try it.

We make mistakes.

We try again.

Sometimes we get irritated.

Sometimes we laugh at ourselves.

Sometimes we even put the object aside and say, I'll try it later.

And then one fine day, we get it right.

That moment is surprisingly satisfying.

The chopper works exactly as it should. The mixer produces the perfect consistency. The laptop shortcut becomes second nature. The bracelet clasp closes without a struggle.

The difficulty that once bothered us becomes a skill we no longer notice.

Messy doesn't always mean wrong

Perhaps that is the bigger lesson.

We often expect new things to make our lives easier immediately.

But new does not always mean easy.

There is a transition period.

There is a little confusion, a little inconvenience and sometimes quite a bit of mess.

Learning a new gadget, using a new appliance, wearing a new piece of jewellery or adapting to a new technology requires us to slow down and pay attention.

And once we do, the reward is often worth the initial trouble.

Just like the watermelon.

The rind is thick.

The cutting can be messy.

The seeds may be annoying.

But nobody remembers the inconvenience once they are enjoying that first sweet, juicy bite.

Perhaps we should remember this whenever something new frustrates us.

Don't reject something simply because you haven't learnt its rhythm yet.

Give it time.

Read the instructions.

Ask for help when necessary.

Practise.

And allow your hands and mind to become familiar with it.

Because sometimes, the things that are most inconvenient in the beginning become the things that make our lives wonderfully easy in the end.

(This blogpost is  a part of Blogchatter's Bloghop :  https://www.theblogchatter.com/blogchatter-blog-hop-a-new-way-to-write-collectively

The Cipla Story – A Legacy of Care: When History Becomes a Story for Everyone

 

Title: The Cipla Story – A Legacy of Care
Author: Archita Mitra
Publisher: Amar Chitra Katha / Tinkle
Occasion: Celebrating 90 years of Cipla – Caring for Life
Format: Comic / Illustrated Non-Fiction

Source of the book: Won in Ambika Gulati's giveaway contest.

A smooth and shiny cover, perfectly coloured illustrations inside, beautiful fonts in an appropriate size, and a presentation that immediately catches the eye — all these came together to give me a fine reading experience with The Cipla Story – A Legacy of Care.

I received this comic book after winning Ambica Gulati’s giveaway contest, and it was a delightful addition to my reading list. Published by Amar Chitra Katha / Tinkle, the book commemorates 90 years of Cipla – Caring for Life. Written by Archita Mitra, it takes readers through the remarkable journey of Cipla and its contribution to India's pharmaceutical story.

A Cover That Invites You to Read

The cover itself makes an immediate impression. It features images of Cipla's founder along with his sons, giving the reader a glimpse into the family and legacy behind the company. The back cover carries an image of Cipla's manufacturing plant in Goa, subtly reminding us that behind the story of a company are people, places, institutions and decades of work.

The book is visually appealing without becoming overwhelming. The illustrations, colours, typography and page design work together beautifully. It is the kind of book that can make you pause even before you begin reading.

When Non-Fiction Reads Like a Family Story

What I particularly appreciated about this book is the craft of turning a non-fiction subject into an engaging, almost homely story.

The narrative moves smoothly from Cipla's early days to its emergence as a pioneer in the pharmaceutical industry. Instead of presenting a dry chronology of dates, milestones and achievements, the story brings in people, families, friendships, ageing, health concerns, medicines and everyday situations.

This makes the history relatable.

A pharmaceutical company can sometimes sound like a distant corporate subject. Here, Cipla gradually becomes something much closer to home — a company whose products and purpose can become part of a family's life.

Kudos to Archita Mitra and the entire creative team for this storytelling approach.

Why a Comic Book for Non-Fiction?

Comics have a fascinating place in popular reading. They have traditionally been associated with children and entertainment, but their visual storytelling has always had the ability to communicate complex subjects quickly and memorably.

This is precisely where the comic-book format works so well for The Cipla Story.

Instead of making young readers feel that they are reading a lesson in business, medicine or industrial history, the book gives them characters, conversations, situations and pictures. Information is woven naturally into the story.

This approach can be particularly effective when introducing children to non-fiction. Visual narratives reduce the feeling of heaviness that sometimes comes with historical or factual material. The combination of illustrations and short passages keeps the reader moving from one page to another, while the information quietly settles in.

And that, I think, is one of the biggest strengths of this book.

The children may think they are reading a comic; in the process, they are learning the story of an important Indian institution.

A Story Bigger Than a Company

The book doesn't restrict itself to the growth of Cipla as a pharmaceutical company. It places that growth against a much larger historical and social background.

World events, the impact of the World Wars, colonial rule, Mahatma Gandhi, India's changing needs, patent laws, international cooperation and the country's efforts towards self-reliance in medicines all find their place in the narrative.

The story also touches upon the development of the inhaler, consumer wellness products and palliative care.

These are substantial subjects, yet they do not feel like a collection of textbook chapters. They become part of the story.

That is no small achievement.

From a Family to a Nation's Health

One of the aspects I found interesting was the way the book brings in the joint-family system, friendships, ageing, healthcare and everyday family concerns.

Health is not an isolated subject. Someone in the family may be growing older, someone may need regular medication, while a sportsperson may depend on an inhaler for his condition, and someone else may be dealing with a long-term health concern.

 Through such familiar situations, the reader begins to understand how a pharmaceutical company can become connected with ordinary people's lives.

The book therefore moves beyond Cipla as a business and makes us look at Cipla as part of society.

India's Journey Towards Self-Reliance

Perhaps one of the strongest impressions the book leaves is the importance of Cipla's contribution to India's pharmaceutical journey.

The story reminds us that building an industry is not merely about establishing factories and selling products. It involves responding to the needs of a country, developing knowledge and technology, navigating laws and regulations, creating solutions and making healthcare more accessible.

The journey from its start-up days to becoming a pioneer in pharmaceuticals is presented as a story of determination and vision.

It also becomes a reminder of the immense effort that went into making India more self-sufficient in an important field.

Celebrating 90 years of such a journey is therefore more than celebrating a corporate milestone. It is also an opportunity to recognise the people, ideas and efforts that contributed to India's development.

A Quietly Powerful Storytelling Style

There is no loudness in the way the story unfolds.

Instead, there is a quiet, commanding quality to the storytelling. The information is presented naturally, allowing readers to discover the significance of the events rather than being repeatedly told how important they are.

This makes the book accessible not only to children but also to adults who may enjoy looking back at the evolution of an Indian institution.

And for children, the comic format makes subjects such as pharmaceutical development, patent laws, healthcare, history and social responsibility far less intimidating.

They can learn without feeling that they are being taught.

A Book That Deserves a Wider Reach

I believe this is where the choice of the comic format becomes particularly successful.

A 90-year journey can contain an enormous amount of information. Presenting all of it through conventional prose might have made the book heavier, particularly for younger readers. By choosing visual storytelling, the author and team have opened the subject to a wider audience.

It is also a wonderful way of introducing children to Indian achievements and institutions.

We often know more about famous international companies and personalities than about the organisations that have played important roles in our own country's development. Books like this can help bridge that gap.

 Final Thoughts:

The Cipla Story – A Legacy of Care is much more than a commemorative book about a pharmaceutical company.

It is a story about family, care, health, history, innovation, responsibility and nation-building.

It takes the reader from the early days of Cipla to its emergence as a pioneer in pharmaceuticals, while showing how world events and India's own historical circumstances shaped its journey.

Most importantly, it succeeds in making a potentially complex subject interesting, approachable and visually engaging.

The smooth flow of the narrative, the attractive illustrations, the carefully chosen font and page design, and the decision to use the comic-book format all contribute to a pleasant reading experience.

For children, it can be an introduction to the history of an important Indian company. For adults, it can be a reminder of how institutions evolve over decades and become woven into the fabric of society.

A commendable effort by Archita Mitra and the team behind the book to turn corporate and pharmaceutical history into an engaging human story.

And perhaps the biggest takeaway for me is this:

Sometimes, the best way to teach history is not to make it feel like history at all — but to make it feel like a story.