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There is a story about a boy whose parents took him to the sage-poet Thiruvalluvar because he had too much of a weakness for sweets. They requested the sage to tell the boy not to eat so much sweetmeat. Thiruvalluvar sent the family away asking them to return in a fortnight.

When they did come back, the saint explained to the boy why he should ease up on the sweets and why too much sugar will turn out bad. The boy got the point. The parents didn’t. Why hadn’t he said the same thing the last time they were here?

The Djinn are spirits of light. Not light as you and I know it — but light as energy. They are in tune with the forces make the world go around. They exist on a level close to that of thoughts. This is why wish-granting is natural to them. As natural as picking up a pen or opening a door is to us.

Because of this, throughout history, Djinn have been drawn to the needy and the passionately desirous. What may appear coincidental to humans is merely the way of the universe to the Djinn.

There was once a juggler. He was known across the land for his skills. He could juggle practically any number of things for as long as he wanted. It was said that he had never made a mistake and was, in fact, incapable of making one.

His fame grew as he travelled far and wide and performed in palaces, royal courts, and town halls. Because he made juggling look like the easiest thing to do, many tried their hand at the craft. They gave up when they were bored or became too acutely aware of their limitations. Funnily enough, no one had ever asked the juggler to teach them.

Day 1: One gets a call from one’s teacher, highly recommending Aamir Khan’s Taare Zameen Par. One watches the movie with friends and is happy to note that he is not the only one crying.

Later that day, one chews on the movie for long and is thankful for his childhood. His tinkering and doodling was tolerated.

Day 2: One makes mother and aunt watch the movie. Much to one’s relief, mother cries and they hug each other as Shankar Mahadevan sings, ‘kya itna bura hoon main ma?’

One is told that the first time his vegetarian mother actually killed a mosquito was to protect him.

One seems so focused on what he wants from the future that he forgets to be thankful to the past for allowing him the life he has had. True, there always seem to be people for whom nothing is ever good enough. But there is little we can do about them.

There have been several little joys that stick to my memory to this day and will very probably go to my funeral with me. Regardless of grander changes later in my life, these little shifts in my growth were never overshadowed. I thought I would share some of them with you, on this first day of 2008.

You know the type. The sort that thinks girls bring rape upon themselves by dressing ‘inappropriately’. Who think sex education in schools is a bad idea and will only encourage more promiscuous behaviour. Who think moral policing is all that is keeping this country from going to the dogs. Etcetera.

A close friend of mine fits the description. Let’s call him Pratap (since that is his name). We agreed to disagree a long time ago. Yet, certain days find us at each other’s throats, throwing opinions and ideas at each other and dodging cruel blows to our egos.