From sending their children to the best of schools to hoarding expensive jewelry for their marriages, parents around the world take every possible measure to ensure a smooth life for their children. Yet, most parents around the world skip a crucial step in this regard, despite their best intentions--the writing of a will--and consequently plunge their kin into several months (and sometimes, several years) of clueless wrechedness. I believe parents above the age of 60 are morally obliged to write a will for their children.
There are several reasons, I think, for why wills are not written by so many parents or why children do not broach the topic with their parents. In conservative societies like India, it could simply be the taboo surrounding discussions around inheritance and successorship. There could also be sheer ignorance or laziness on the parts of parents: The "we will do it when we come to it" syndrome. Next, there is lack of information on will-writing and its usefulness among several parents that prevents them from drafting a will. Finally, there could be a reliance by parents on their country or society's legal norms: "Things will be done as they should be done" syndrome.
There are several reasons why wills are useful; however, I believe the most important of these is the mental and emotional trauma that successors do not have to endure in the settlement of an estate. Most of our parents have been through a similar fate, victims of an era where wills and property settlements were not well dispersed knowledge, and our generation can appreciate the tremendous need for a systematic process for inheritance rights.
Today, wills can be written independently or with the help of trained estate lawyers. I dont agree that wills should only be written by millionaires looking to leave behind their belongings to salivating successors. Rather, wills should be written even by ordinary men and women who possess the slightest bit of money or property. As these individuals can themselves testify, even paltry items can become issues of contention between relatives.
Save your kids the trauma. Write them a will. Especially if you are more than 60 years of age.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Kolkata exemplifies timelessness
Have you ever wondered what it might be like to step into a land where time stands still, where history exudes from every nook and crany, and where each resident has an eternal bond with the city? If so, a visit to Kolkata will most likely satiate your curiosity and leave you, like it did me, impressed, enlightened and touched. I spent 3 days meeting with family and friends in the city a week ago and I am already yearning to be back!
Kolkata first strikes home its historic charm--though many may validly classify this as a menace--via its clumsy, yellow Ambassador taxis, eagerly awaiting hapless travelers outside the airport. The city too is overflowing with these ugly, smoke-belching machines, usually driven by happy-go-lucky drivers with the yogic attitude to care little for material things, human or machines, in their line of sight. Ambassadors are one of India's oldest automobiles, extinct in all parts of the country save Kolkata. It is said that the car manufacturers struck a clever deal with the city's Marxist rulers: Use Ambassador cars! I am unsure of what the government received in the bargain, however, and I wonder if any prize would be large enough to forego the freedom of safety and adornment that these cars compromise.
Next, the city's traffic flow also suggests that fellow drivers in Kolkata share a psychic connection with each other--for even as a rickshaw swerves dangerously towards a hurtling truck in order to avoid a pedestrian, the truck driver calmly steers his vehicle into a calculated turn, avoiding a catastrophe. The scene, which repeats itself hundreds of times each day, is akin to an airshow where two fighter pilots smoothly move in unision while flying extremely close to each other. This spirit of camraderie and mutual understanding makes Kolkata even more special.
Approaching the city, hundreds of historic buildings greet a visitor, lending Kolkata an unmistakable air of both importance and neglect; for where many well-maintained sites such as Victoria Memorial underscore the roots of power present in the city, others like the sagging Tata Steel building suggest that Kolkata might simply have lost its influence since the British Raj. Yet, it would be premature to classify Kolkata as a waning star. The seamless integration of a modern culture into the ancient infrastructure of Kolkata is truly awe-inspiring and testifies the spirit of ingenuity and creativity the Bengalis are renowned for. Residents have converted charming old cottages into modern mansions. Merchants continue to rent commercial space in medieval structures of the but have installed air-conditioning systems in their shops. The government has not torn down British era alleys and galis, barely wide enough for a modern car to pass through, but has implemented one-way driving regulations to keep traffic smooth. It is no wonder then that Kolkata finds precedence in the itineraries of history lovers while attracting contemporary artists and entrepreneurs alike.
More than anything else, it is the people of the 'City of Joy' that makes Kolkata such a special place. Unlike those of New Delhi or Mumbai, the residents of Kolkata maintain their ageless cultural identity despite embracing the winds of modern and liberal thought. Consider the Indian director who writes his notes while observing by-passers from the windows of Floury's, a colonial-era cafe; or a student who reads classic literature and particular physics while attending La Martinere School, a school founded in 1836. Even among the friends and family I visited, there is an ineffable sense of reverence for family values in the face of independent thinking and liberalism. There is my Western educated and corporate minded uncle who prefers living with his parents and there is my GenX friend who returns home at an appropriate hour even as she attends a late-night get-together. This blend of modernity and tradition, which I had found inconceivable previously, gives Kolkata a characteristic air of warmth.
As India hurtles towards Westernism and individuality, Kolkata's tacit old-world persona reminds us of the country's past, glorious and terrible, and stands as a ready beacon for anyone wanting to call the city home. For travelers in need of fresh perspective, for families seeking reunions or for writers needing inspiration, Kolkata should be high on the list of places to visit next.
--
To all those in Kolkata who made my visit there so fabulous: Thank you!
Kolkata first strikes home its historic charm--though many may validly classify this as a menace--via its clumsy, yellow Ambassador taxis, eagerly awaiting hapless travelers outside the airport. The city too is overflowing with these ugly, smoke-belching machines, usually driven by happy-go-lucky drivers with the yogic attitude to care little for material things, human or machines, in their line of sight. Ambassadors are one of India's oldest automobiles, extinct in all parts of the country save Kolkata. It is said that the car manufacturers struck a clever deal with the city's Marxist rulers: Use Ambassador cars! I am unsure of what the government received in the bargain, however, and I wonder if any prize would be large enough to forego the freedom of safety and adornment that these cars compromise.
Next, the city's traffic flow also suggests that fellow drivers in Kolkata share a psychic connection with each other--for even as a rickshaw swerves dangerously towards a hurtling truck in order to avoid a pedestrian, the truck driver calmly steers his vehicle into a calculated turn, avoiding a catastrophe. The scene, which repeats itself hundreds of times each day, is akin to an airshow where two fighter pilots smoothly move in unision while flying extremely close to each other. This spirit of camraderie and mutual understanding makes Kolkata even more special.
Approaching the city, hundreds of historic buildings greet a visitor, lending Kolkata an unmistakable air of both importance and neglect; for where many well-maintained sites such as Victoria Memorial underscore the roots of power present in the city, others like the sagging Tata Steel building suggest that Kolkata might simply have lost its influence since the British Raj. Yet, it would be premature to classify Kolkata as a waning star. The seamless integration of a modern culture into the ancient infrastructure of Kolkata is truly awe-inspiring and testifies the spirit of ingenuity and creativity the Bengalis are renowned for. Residents have converted charming old cottages into modern mansions. Merchants continue to rent commercial space in medieval structures of the but have installed air-conditioning systems in their shops. The government has not torn down British era alleys and galis, barely wide enough for a modern car to pass through, but has implemented one-way driving regulations to keep traffic smooth. It is no wonder then that Kolkata finds precedence in the itineraries of history lovers while attracting contemporary artists and entrepreneurs alike.
More than anything else, it is the people of the 'City of Joy' that makes Kolkata such a special place. Unlike those of New Delhi or Mumbai, the residents of Kolkata maintain their ageless cultural identity despite embracing the winds of modern and liberal thought. Consider the Indian director who writes his notes while observing by-passers from the windows of Floury's, a colonial-era cafe; or a student who reads classic literature and particular physics while attending La Martinere School, a school founded in 1836. Even among the friends and family I visited, there is an ineffable sense of reverence for family values in the face of independent thinking and liberalism. There is my Western educated and corporate minded uncle who prefers living with his parents and there is my GenX friend who returns home at an appropriate hour even as she attends a late-night get-together. This blend of modernity and tradition, which I had found inconceivable previously, gives Kolkata a characteristic air of warmth.
As India hurtles towards Westernism and individuality, Kolkata's tacit old-world persona reminds us of the country's past, glorious and terrible, and stands as a ready beacon for anyone wanting to call the city home. For travelers in need of fresh perspective, for families seeking reunions or for writers needing inspiration, Kolkata should be high on the list of places to visit next.
--
To all those in Kolkata who made my visit there so fabulous: Thank you!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Death has a charm of its own
As Socrates, the Classical Greek philosopher, lay dying after being poisoned by hemlock, he uttered words whose meaning few of us grasp even today: "The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die, and you to live. Which is better God only knows."
Since the dawn of mankind, nothing has incited as much fear and suspense in our species as the idea of death. From the Bible, which portrayed death as a result of sin ("For the wages of sin is death" Romans 6:23a), to the structure of modern society, which views death as one of the most gripping tragedies to befall families, our perspectives have been shaped to believe that death is an extremely terrible thing. Yet, what do we know about death? What happens when we die? Why are we programmed to hold on so dearly to a life we cannot compare with another form of existence?
Why are we so afraid to discuss an inevitablity analogous to the rising of the sun or the crashing of the waves on the beaches? What do you think? Dont you think we could live more productive lives knowing that our end is near?
I wanted to share a beautiful quote I read this morning. Though the author, Charles Dickens, describes the condition of death, his words make you appreciate the irony of life.
"Alas! How few of Nature's faces are left alone to gladden us with their beauty! The cares, and sorrows, and hungerings, of the world, change them as they change hearts; and it is only when those passions sleep, and have lost their hold for ever, that the troubled clouds pass off, and leave Heaven's surface clear. It is a common thing for the countenances of the dead, even in that fixed and rigid state, to subside into the long-forgotten expression of sleeping infancy, and settle into the very look of early life; so calm, so peaceful, do they grow again, that those who knew them in their happy childhood, kneel by the coffin's side in awe, and see the Angel even upon death"
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist
Since the dawn of mankind, nothing has incited as much fear and suspense in our species as the idea of death. From the Bible, which portrayed death as a result of sin ("For the wages of sin is death" Romans 6:23a), to the structure of modern society, which views death as one of the most gripping tragedies to befall families, our perspectives have been shaped to believe that death is an extremely terrible thing. Yet, what do we know about death? What happens when we die? Why are we programmed to hold on so dearly to a life we cannot compare with another form of existence?
Why are we so afraid to discuss an inevitablity analogous to the rising of the sun or the crashing of the waves on the beaches? What do you think? Dont you think we could live more productive lives knowing that our end is near?
I wanted to share a beautiful quote I read this morning. Though the author, Charles Dickens, describes the condition of death, his words make you appreciate the irony of life.
"Alas! How few of Nature's faces are left alone to gladden us with their beauty! The cares, and sorrows, and hungerings, of the world, change them as they change hearts; and it is only when those passions sleep, and have lost their hold for ever, that the troubled clouds pass off, and leave Heaven's surface clear. It is a common thing for the countenances of the dead, even in that fixed and rigid state, to subside into the long-forgotten expression of sleeping infancy, and settle into the very look of early life; so calm, so peaceful, do they grow again, that those who knew them in their happy childhood, kneel by the coffin's side in awe, and see the Angel even upon death"
Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist
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