Hating someone or something is a full time occupation and I really do not have that much time. All I can manage is an angry feeling now and then, an uncharitable thought once in a while, a bit of trouble falling asleep sometimes. More than that I honestly, seriously cannot afford.

Hating is a luxury that young people indulge in. They hate this, they hate that… they hate old movies, unbranded jeans, green vegetables, bananas, bhajans, exams( or maybe not exams, thanks to Kapil Sibal’s botching up of the education system!) They have the energy to hate and they have the confidence that their view point is the only right one.

When I was young I, too, hated a good many things. And I was pretty vocal about it. I hated the smell of cabbage cooking, I hated bad grammar, I hated the Mills and Boon kind of books, I hated people who made fun of South Indian languages, I hated washing clothes…….oh, there was a long list of things I hated.

But somewhere along the way crept in a washing machine, some experiences, some empathy, some sympathy, an epiphany or two. Having a very calm and balanced spouse also did its bit. Reading opened my mind to the realization that man is both unique and not at all so at the same time. Add to all this, my growing love and enjoyment of the place I live in, my circle of friends, the laughs we share; and as I inch my way past half a century I realize there’s no time to hate. There’s time to dislike of course. But more about that later.