Unrequited Love

 The most famous story of unrequited love has to be by author Charles Dickens "A Tale of Two Cities."

The novel explores themes of sacrifice, resurrection, and social justice, particularly through the characters of Charles Darnay, a French aristocrat, and Sydney Carton, a London lawyer his lookalike. Both fall for Lucie, the beautiful daughter of Dr Alexander Manette, once imprisoned for exposing aristocratic crimes, but she chooses to marry Darney. Darnay is repeatedly threatened by the revolution due to his family's history, and Carton ultimately sacrifices his life for Darnay and Lucie.  Sydney Carton rises in moral stature when he sacrifices his life to save Darney. Rather than grudge Lucie for not returning his affections he is noble enough to sacrifice himself on the altar of unrequited love. In the final act, Carton goes willingly to the guillotine. He comforts a young condemned seamstress and utters the novel’s famous final thought: “It is a far, far better thing that I do…”

Maybe such characters are only to be found in fiction though. 

Recently in the news (25th June 2025) is a lady engineer working in Deloitte Rene Joshilda who plotted revenge against a colleague who had spurned her advances and married another man. Over the past year, Ahmedabad Police say Joshilda, a robotics engineer and senior consultant with Deloitte in Chennai, sent hoax bomb threats to more than 20 locations across India: stadiums, schools, airports and hospitals, all in the name of her unrequited love. Her targets included the iconic Narendra Modi Stadium in Ahmedabad. "She was in one-sided love with a Brahmin boy," said a senior official with Ahmedabad Police’s Cyber Crime branch. "When he got married, she started planning revenge. She wanted to ruin him."
The emails, sent over months, triggered panic across 11 states: Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu, Delhi, Haryana, Rajasthan, Karnataka, Kerala, Bihar, Andhra Pradesh, Telangana and Punjab. Each time, police scrambled teams, evacuated buildings and launched search operations. Every alert turned out to be false.
Described by the police as highly educated and meticulous, Joshilda utilised the dark web and encrypted email IDs, even using Pakistani VPN and accounts in the name of the man who never reciprocated her feelings. All this was to mask her identity and implicate him. She even sent an email from him claiming he was responsible for the Air India Plane Crash in Ahmedabad. This is when the authorities woke up to her threats and set up teams to track her down. 

One of the most famous examples of unrequited love is Dante's love for Beatrice in Dante Alighieri's La Vita Nuova and The Divine Comedy. Dante's unrequited love, though idealized and ultimately transformed into a spiritual connection, provides a powerful illustration of the intense emotions and lasting impact that unreturned affection can have. Dante fell in love with Beatrice Portinari at a young age, but their relationship was primarily one of idealized admiration from afar. Beatrice married another man, and Dante himself married someone else. According to one source, Dante's love was largely one-sided, with Beatrice barely acknowledging his affections. 
Dante's collection of poems and prose, La Vita Nuova, is a chronicle of his love for Beatrice, immortalizing his feelings for her even after her death. It is a testament to the profound and lasting impact of unrequited love. 
Beatrice is also a central figure in Dante's epic poem, The Divine Comedy, where she serves as his guide through Paradise. This suggests that even in the face of death and spiritual transcendence, the memory and idealized image of Beatrice continued to inspire him.
The consequences of Dante's unrequited love were multifaceted. While it caused him emotional pain and longing, it also fueled his creative genius, inspiring him to create some of the most enduring works in Italian literature. His love, though not returned in a conventional romantic sense, ultimately became a source of spiritual and artistic inspiration.

Quotable Quotes on Resignation/Retirement

 Imagine you are at your Retirement/ Farewell party about to give your farewell speech to colleagues  and someone asks "How do you feel, to be leaving the organisation?" What should be your reply?

The fact is the majority of us do dread that awful day when we leave the safety of a secure job to wade into uncharted territories. The familiar faces of colleagues,  that gossip at coffee break, the familiar desk and cosy corner spot in the office. It is almost enough to negate those tough days when the boss's curt commands, colleague's cold stares, missing promotion once again were enough to drive us into the dumps. Here are some quotable quotes from great writer's we can take inspiration from

“People wait all week for Friday, all year for summer, all life for happiness.” – Unknown  

can be changed to 

“People work all week for Friday, all year for summer holidays, all life for retirement.”

“Don’t waste your life living someone else’s dream. Don’t try to emulate the people who came before you to the exclusion of everything else, contorting into a shape that doesn’t fit.”

– Tim Cook, Apple CEO, Stanford University 2019 Commencement Address

"Every person has the power to make others happy. Some do it simply by entering a room others by leaving the room. Some individuals leave trails of gloom; others, trails of joy. Some leave trails of hate and bitterness; others, trails of love and harmony. Some leave trails of cynicism and pessimism; others trails of faith and optimism. Some leave trails of criticism and resignation; others trails of gratitude and hope. What kind of trails do you leave?" ~ William Arthur Ward

The Story about Onassis the Greek Tycoon

 From Facebook

The following tale is so poignant. It reminds us that Karma exists. Maria Callas left her husband and career for the rich Onassis, but in the course of time he discarded her for Jackie. The story is as follows

There existed a Greek Billionaire from Argentina in the 50s.

His name was Aristotle Onasis.

Onasis made his money as a Logistician,in Whaling,and Oil.

At some point he owned land inside half of Monaco and was a share holder at the Monte Carlo Casino.

At some point all the cargo ships that traversed seas all over the world,half of them were owned by him.

He also built Luxury cruises that offered sea and Island tourism for the extremely rich and powerful.

Onasis was a short,stout and by his own account an ugly man.

He was liquid as river nile but he was not easy on the eye.

Onasis would hire the best artists and pay them heavily to entertain and dazzle his friends in these cruises.

This was the golden age of Opera,Theatre,Musicals.

And the greatest Opera singer was Maria Callas.

So for Career Tuesday we look into the life of Maria Callas.

God installed all sets of Repertoires in Maria’s lungs.

She could sing and people would cry.

She could sing and people would be renewed,

Maria could sing and glass would break,

Maria’s voice transported people,

Maria would complete a performance and the entire opera would go quiet, a mystic air engulfing the room.

Maria stepped into Onasis' cruise and sang,and Onasis fell in love with her – Because who wouldn’t?

The only problem is that Callas was a married woman and even in this ship,

Her husband was with her.

But a man like Onasis buoyed by the power of his money and the fact this was his ship went for the kill.

Maria buoyed by the prospect of marrying the richest man on earth and what it would do for her career fell right in.

Her husband already had the disadvantage being in a ship owned by a man who wanted to take his wife.

A swimming puppy competing a shark at sea.

As the story goes - Maria Callas divorced her husband and went to be the Mistress of Onasis.

Onasis divorced his wife and promised to marry Maria and she moved in with him.

Then Onasis told Maria he hated the Opera,He hated the sound of singing and requested Maria to stop singing.

She stopped.

Her life now became that of the Mistress of Billionaire Onasis – riding in luxury cruises all over the world,attending cruise parties,meeting the rich and famous – popular in this circle were men like Winston Churchill and his Cigar,President John F Kennedy and his charming smile – Men who decide the trajectory of the planet.

Iconic women like actress Marilyn Monroe were permanent residents.

Maria Callas did not sing for ten years.

As we all know - President John F Kennedy was carrying on an affair with Marilyn Monroe – all this while abandoning his wife Jackie Kennedy, yet again another bombshell of a woman and guess who was sleeping with Jackie on the side?

Onasis.

President John F Kennedy was shot dead and guess who quickly forgot about his decade long mistress and married Jackie Kennedy?

Onasis.

Maria had to move out.

After a while,Maria decided she wanted to go back and sing,and when she tried,her voice was gone – and the world had moved on to new stars because the world never waits for anyone – You are either in the ring or outside,And she could not even rely on her long lost fame,You cant be a singer with no voice.

Onasis died in 1975, left Jackie Kennedy billions and left Maria Zero..not even a cent for the 9 years of companionship.

Maria retreated and lived a quiet life,of sleeping pills,of anti depressants,of silence,of separation,of desperation,of trepidation,of private grief.

She grew so thin and frail.

One day her heart stopped.

Beams of light from the huge window panes were criss crossing the appartment and briefly getting interrupted by her body on the floor, then travelling to finish the journey on the adjacent wall when they found her.

The story of Maria Callas is one I always find so relevant when it comes to young people just starting off their careers,the talented among us and what being in a relationship means for their careers.

The man or woman you are with plays such a crucial role in the trajectory of your career.

So choose well.

My Poems

 

On Covid

People, people, people

The covid virus can stifle

So chin up, tone down and staple

The first vaccine shot’s a monster

It can cause fever and ulcer

To oldies its much kinder

With a minor hiccup or flounder

The second injection is a boon

For all who are ready to swoon

In the arms of animal spirits

Lets party , travel and mix again soon!

 

On Mind

Mind is one thing I never could understand

It leaves me puzzled, oftentimes blank!

When I should be in the present

Working hard on my current assignment

It scurries into the corridors of the past

To ferret out nuggets of memories lost

Leaves me in a reverie from which I drag myself out reluctantly

To confront my supervisor staring at me accusingly

Often it leaps to the future

Laying out dreams of wealth and riches enticingly

Wretched creature it is!

Just when I am assured its not all a dream,

It prods me awake with nudge and a wink!

 

On water

What a wonderful thing is water

One drop has the same formula as a quarter

Its only htwoO but it packs a punch

As if it were uranium

When it does not rain, sleet or snow

We wonder where did it all go

When there is a downpour

The frogs croak and snakes go slow

It’s a wonderful feeling

When we are a bathing

The soapy suds and scented soaps

Under the shower or in the tub

Cleansed of all the muck

That’s what water does for us

What would we do without you?

Share my lipstick, son

Sangeeta pursed her lips in contemplation as she stared at her wardrobe – full of rows and rows of expensive sarees, dresses and kurtas. She ran her fingers down the rich folds of kanjeevaram silk, tussar and brocade and gave a sigh of regret. Unfortunately with her advancing years, it would soon be not seemly for her to be seen in such vibrant colours. She would have to opt for softer shades. Her regret was that she did not have a daughter to whom she could pass on her exquisite collection. She opened the drawer of her dressing table to peep into her cosmetic box. Her collection of lipsticks was renowned in the family. There was not a shade which was not in there. Maroon, violet, black, gold and all shades of the rainbow! How she loved to spend her time decked up in all her finery. Her love for clothes and cosmetics was only second to her love for the theatre and cinema. She had been a fine actress during her college days, starring in all the lead roles of her college and university plays. She had even had a chance, a rare opportunity to study drama at the London School of drama at one time. But sadly her conservative family had not agreed to this  at the time, and she was too timid to protest about it. Just after her graduation she had been married off- a respectable match with her husband chosen by her family. Nowdays she still waited for the festivals when plays would be staged where she could once again show off her histrionic skills.
       “ Hi, Ma,” Shravan, Sangeeta’s college going son came into the room with a melancholy expression on his face, nursing his left arm which was encased in bandage and clearly injured.
“What happened Shravan? How did you get injured”, Sangeeta said, with a horrified expression on her face. “Weren’t you supposed to be in the tryouts of the basketball competition at your college?”
“Yes, Ma, that’s where it happened-the accident-I fell down”. Now no more athletics for a month now!” said Shravan with a glum expression. “Now God knows how I will make the extracurricular grades to get into the US University”, I was banking on playing in the finals of the badminton championships to get a certificate!” . He looked at his mother morosely.
Sangeeta thought about this for a while wondering how to lift him out of his gloomy mood. Her son Shravan was extremely fond of all sports and had also set his heart on going to US in the fall on a scholarship.  “Now that basketball is ruled out, why don’t you take up some dramatics activities in your college? Extracurricular activities can involve theatre and drama as well, right?”, she asked him, “ if you get selected for the main role in the college play, you can make the grade as well, can’t you? “ she asked him.
“Oh no, that I can’t, “ said Shravan with a disgusted expression on his face.
“As you know our college is males only. Still they are doing the mythological play –Mahabharat where a lot of female characters are pivotal as well. All the male roles in the play are already selected, only some female parts are still to be finalised,” he said, “ and surely you don’t expect me to try for those, Ma!”he said sounding shocked.
“Why, not?” said Sangeeta. “ Acting as a female will not make you one. It’s there in your genes- I used to do drama in school and college. I am sure I could give you some pointers if you are selected for a part. There is no harm in doing a female part. In fact a good actor should be able to play the part of any character convincingly- whether male or female. And in Shakespeare’s time the best actors got the female roles you know!” she said enthusiastically trying to convince him. Sangeeta was thinking that here was her opportunity to mentor her son. Through his growing years it was mainly his father whom Shravan had turned to for advice on his studies, sports and hobbies. Although he loved her dearly she had a feeling that he looked down upon her for feminine love of finery, cosmetics and jewellery. Now would be her chance to tutor him, teach him that art was not something to scoff at. It required brains and intelligence to become a good actor just as sports required discipline and rigour. In fact she was happy that a hidden facet of her son’s character would be come out of this adversity.
Shravan stared at her angrily and said, “there you go again about your song and drama! I don’t have any interest in these things and I never will” he shouted . “I think drama is stupid, dressing up is stupid and even your lipsticks are stupid! “, he stormed taking out all his anger and frustration on his mother.
Well, then forget about getting a US scholarship Shravan”, said Sangeeta, with rising anger, “as clearly you don’t deserve it”.
Shravan walked out of the room in an angry huff leaving Sangeeta perplexed and sorry for him at once. He had taken totally after his dad- interested only in masculine activities like sports and athletics scoffing at anything remotely feminine or emotional. It was impossible to convince him. How she missed having a daughter! She missed talking about clothes, cosmetics and spicy gossip. All they ever discussed as a family were cricket scores and football.
Shravan’s anger had not died down as yet.  In fact it had only increased when he thought about how close he had been to getting that US scholarship. How stupid of him to get hurt at this time. He was feeling angry with his mother because she had taunted him about not getting the scholarship. How stupid of her to suggest that he play a female role. He imagined his friends laughing at him decked out in his mother’s saree, wearing her lipstick and became angrier. He decided to teach her a lesson. He went into her bedroom after peeping into the drawing room to ensure she was still there. He opened her dressing table drawer and took all her prized lipsticks and put them in a black garbage bag. “Serve her right for being so fond of these stupid things”, he thought to himself. He then went stealthily to his room and hid the bag in his cupboard. “I’ll just wait to see the fun when she screams and shouts on not finding them,” he thought to himself. “Then, I’ll give them back to her”.

Next morning there was a hue and cry when Sangeeta discovered all her lipsticks gone from her dresser. Shravan, who had spent the night and most of the morning in deep slumber from his injuries woke up rubbing his eyes and feeling guilty as well as foolish for his stupid act. He immediately went to his cupboard, but to his horror he found that the black garbage bag had vanished. He ran helter skelter to the kitchen asking the maid Janakamma there “Did you clean my cupboard?”. Yes, said the maid righteously, “ I found a lot of garbage which I threw out, “ she said. “Oh NO ! said Shravan”, clutching his head in misery. “Now what will I do when Ma, finds out?”
And find out she did. Shravan was very severely chastised by both his parents when they found out about his misdeeds. Sangeeta even stopped talking to him. Shravan was most upset at this because of course he had never expected this to happen. All the troubles in the world seemed to have found him at once. He started to think deeply about the idea given to him by Sangeeta. She had only suggested it to help him get into a good college, have a good career. She was the one person who gave him good advice and had his best interests at heart. It seemed unfair to him that he might miss out on a good scholarship only because he didn’t like drama. So what if his stupid friends laughed at him a little! He would have the last laugh when he was sitting on the plane to US where they had the best facilities for sports. How jealous they would be of him.  What was the harm in trying out for a part? He might not get chosen after all! In this frame of mind he appeared for the auditions of the college play.
His mother walked into the room  just as he was about to apply her new lipstick. She was startled. “What are you doing with my lipstick? It’s new.... I haven’t used it so far. Couldn’t you have waited?” He smiled and handed it back to her. “I forgot to tell you.... I am playing Draupadi in our college production.....rehearsals start this evening.”

Stone Soup

One day, a traveler was passing through a village. Times were hard, and people were not particularly warm or hospitable to strangers, or to each other for that matter. Hardly anyone responded to the traveler’s hearty greeting or to his cheery attitude. Unfazed by the lukewarm reception, he sat down in a corner and got busy. He took out a large iron pot, whistling a merry tune as he did so. He proceeded to light a fire. He filled the pot with water. While waiting for the water to boil, he made a big to-do about taking a knife, a soup ladle, and a polished stone, whistling all the while. All this activity attracted the attention of passersby.
“What are you cooking?” asked a curious onlooker.
“Stone soup, ” was the cheerful reply.
“Stone soup! I’ve never heard of such a thing,” said another.
“Stick around and have some when it’s done,” was the warm response.
A crowd was starting to gather around the traveler, curious about the so-called stone soup. He continued to whistle away as he dropped the stone into the huge pot of water.
Finally, the water started to boil. The traveler took his ladle and took a sip of the soup.
“How does it taste?” asked a voice from the crowd.
“It tastes good,” said the traveler, ” but it would taste even better if it had a couple of potatoes,” he added wistfully.
“I have some potatoes,” volunteered an elderly lady. She came forward and handed them over to the traveler. He peeled and chopped them expertly, and added them to the soup. Then he took another sip.
He declared it the best stone soup ever, but conceded that it would taste even better if it had carrots in it.
“I think I have some carrots somewhere ” said a man who was watching the whole thing. He ran home and quickly came back with a handful, which he handed over to the traveler.
The traveler continued to stir his concoction. Every time he would taste the soup, he would smack his lips and declare it the best ever, but would add that it would taste better if only it had this ingredient or that. Cries of “I have leftover meat,” or “I have some onions,” “salt,” “pepper,” etc, rang through the crowd.
People offered all kinds of stuff from their garden or pantry in the hope that the soup would taste better.

In the meantime, the waiting crowd sat down, exchanged pleasantries and even played music. Everyone agreed that it was the most fun they’ve had in a long time. Pretty soon, the soup was starting to smell really good. The traveler took another sip of the soup and declared it done. He ladled generous servings of it into bowls and handed them around.

Everyone thanked the traveler for the marvelous stone soup and asked him for the secret. The traveler revealed to them that it was not the stone that made the soup taste good, but all the other ingredients that everyone contributed. He added that in life, as in the case of the soup, if everyone pitched in a little something, a  wondrous thing will come out of such an undertaking. The villagers  thanked the traveler again for his words of wisdom. From that time on, the villagers became kinder and more helpful to one another. So the traveler, satisfied,  went on his merry way, determined more than ever to share the secret of his stone soup to anyone who cared to listen

A Fish Story

Once upon a time in India there was a very rich and prosperous king who ruled over the land south of the Vindhyas. The king was very fond of food. His requirement from his chief kitchen chef was that at every meal he should be served something that was not only succulent and delicious but also new and novel. If the dish served to him was not satisfactory then the chef soon found himself thrown out of the kitchen or worse in the kindom’s jail. In this way many chefs entered and then after a few months service left the king’s service, no longer being able to satisfy the king’s insatiable appetite for new and novel dishes. No meat, vegetable or fruit could be served to him a second time. Once he had tasted something he remembered it and no matter how differently the cook tried to make it, how much ever masalas he put in it, the king would remember the taste of the main ingredient and refuse to touch any more. The poor cook would be cast in chains, taken to the kingdom’s boundary by the king’s guards, and told to leave the kingdom and never come back. In this manner the king had exhausted the services of a score of chefs, all excellent cooks, who could no longer satisfy the king’s lust for novelty in his food. Apart from this aberration, the king had an excellent nature. He was a good ruler, a brave warrior and an able administrator and the people were prosperous and happy under his rule.
    It so happened that the latest of the king’s chef, a talented cook had cooked his last novel dish the previous day and was now at his wits end as to what to cook for the king’s lunch that day. He had already been told that the king was expecting some special guests at lunch that day and so the dishes served should be not only delicious but also novel and eye catching. The poor cook was at his wit’s end. He had already kept his bags packed the previous night and decided that if he did not get any new ideas in the morning, he would try to escape from the king’s kitchen and go back to his village. The thought of returning back to his family as a failure, depressed him further. Looking through the window he saw a mancoming toward him. He had a bag with him in which he was carrying something. He saluted the cook and said “Good Morning to you, good sir. I understand you are looking for a dish to serve the king for lunch. I have something for you.” The cook expressed his interest to see the novel dish, “what is it and what is it called?” he asked.
“It is called fish, and I caught it in the waters of the lake nearby” replied the fisherman.
“But, how do you cook it, ” asked the cook, “I have never seen nor cooked such a thing before”.  “That is easy,” replied the fisherman. “First you have to remove the scales, then clean it and cut it, smother it in masalas and fry it. After that you only have to garnish it with coriander leaves, mint leaves and serve it with a salad. The cook was quite pleased with the fisherman’s idea and decided to buy the fish from him. So he quickly set to work as per the fisherman’s instructions and soon the dish was ready for the king’s lunch. He and the other cooks had already prepared many other favourite dishes of the king .
     When lunchtime came the cook and his assistants assembled in the dining hall where the sumptuous lunch was to be served to the king, queen and their guests. The dishes were served in silver platters on a enormous gold plated dining table. The cutlery was of the finest bone china. As soon as the gong announcing the king’s arrival sounded, a shiver of apprehension ran down the spine of the cook and his staff. They were scared of what the king would say. The doors of the dining area opened and the king and his entourage entered the dining hall. The king’s eyes darted here and there looking over the dishes assembled on the dining table. The cook was watching the king anxiously. “What is new today, what is it you have cooked for me heh?” he asked the cook. “Sire, it is an absolutely new thing - called fish.”  the cook said , pointing at the largest silver platter where he had laid out the fried fish and garnished and decorated just as the fisherman had instructed him. “ I will taste it” declared the king. So he took one piece on his plate and started to taste it. He finished it all. “How was it, your majesty?” asked the cook. “Humph, I could’nt tell. I must taste another piece,” replied the king. He took another and then another and again another till all the fish on the platter was gone. “It is a good dish, ” he said, “what is it called? ” he asked. The cook was delighted. This was the first time that the king had asked him the name of any dish. “Fish, sir, it is called fish,” he replied. “You must make it again tomorrow” , said the king. From that day onwards all the cooks problems were solved. The king required that he be served fish everyday. The cook was happy that he did not have to think of cooking new things everyday. The fisherman was happy as he now sold his catch at the palace at a good price. The king was very happy as he now liked to eat fish every day.