Caged behind thick glass the most famous dancer in the world can easily be missed in the National Museum, Delhi. The Dancing Girl of Mohenjo-Daro is that rare artifact that even school children are familiar with. Our school textbooks also communicate a wealth of our 5000 years heritage of art. You have to be alert to her existence there, amid terracotta animals to rediscover this bronze image.

Most of us have seen her only in photographs or sketches therefore the impact of actually holding her is magnified a million times over. One discovers that the dancing girl has no feet. She is small, a little over 10 cm tall, the length of a human palm, but she surprises us with the power of great art, the ability to communicate across centuries.

A series of bangles of shell or ivory or thin metal clothes her left upper arm all the way down to her fingers. A necklace with three pendants bunched together and a few bangles above the elbow and wrist on the right-hand display almost modern art. She speaks of the undaunted, ever hopeful human spirit. She reminds us that it is important to visit museums in our country to experience the impact that a work of art leaves on our senses, to find among all the riches one particular vision of beauty that speaks to us alone.

Life is not a bed of roses, but a bed of thorns. It is full of dangers and difficulties. In the race of life, we should not be afraid of the risk which is but natural. Success in any work in life goes to those persons who welcome risk. Science would not have made such wonderful achievements if our scientists had not risked their lives and comforts. The more difficult the work is, the harder our efforts should be to perform it. Life is not smooth sailing. Petty difficulties frighten a weak heart, who is not prepared to take a risk. But brave hearts achieve fame and honour because they enjoy taking risks. In short, risk brings success and works miracles.

When Frank Buchman’s Moral Rearmament Army, some two hundred strong, visited Madras sometime in 1952, they could not, have found a warmer host in India than the Gemini Studios. Someone called the group an international circus. They weren’t very good on the trapeze and their acquaintance with animals was only at the dinner table, but they presented two plays in a most professional manner. Their ‘Jotham Valley’ and ‘The Forgotten Factor’ ran several shows in Madras and along with the other citizens of the city, the Gemini family of six hundred saw the plays over and over again. The message of the play were usually plain and simple homilies, but the sets and costumes were first-rate.

Later on, when it’s a bit cooler, I’ll get the ladder and a stick, and pull down those crab apples. They’re ripe for it. I make jelly. It’s a good time of year, September. Look at them—orange and golden. That’s magic fruit. I often say. But it’s best picked and made into jelly. You could give me a hand.