As a young girl just entering my teens, I had gone to spend summer holidays in my uncle's house in Mangalore. His house was on the outskirts of the city. My two cousins, about my age, were my companions and we had a jolly time. The younger one, Kumuda, was more adventurous than her sister Lata. Kumuda and I used to wander off in the afternoons after lunch, to the hilly regions near the house. One day when we were standing on a slope, trying to pick some berries from a tree, I slipped on a pebble and started sliding down the slope. Terrified, I started looking for something to catch hold of, as I went on helplessly sliding downward. I could see the canal flowing deep down. Not a soul was to be seen there to whom we could shout for help. Just at the edge of the canal, a huge tree saved me from falling headlong into the water. I somehow managed to clasp the trunk of the tree. Looking up, I saw my distressed cousin praying, with hands clasped together. All bruised and with scratches all over my body, I painfully started climbing up the slope, clutching shrubs and trees. My cousin and I returned silently to the house, deciding not to say anything to the elders. It took me quite some time to regain my breath. From that day, our excursions to the hilly slopes stopped.

Another incident I remember with trepidation is the time I had been to Trivandrum for writing a test for a banking job. My father and I stayed in Father's cousin's house. Theirs was an old-fashioned house with low doorways and high thresholds. We had to stoop to cross from one room to another while stepping across the threshold. Without remembering to stoop, I stepped across the threshold, and immediately felt a searing pain as my head hit some sharp object in the doorframe. I felt dizzy and let out a scream. At once my aunt, her son and my father came running to see what had happened. Blood was oozing from the wound on my head. I was made to lie down and have some drink. Some medicine was also applied on the wound. By God's grace, I somehow felt better in the afternoon when I appeared for the test. Surprisingly, I did well and was called for a interview to Bombay.

In 1985, my husband and I, along with our two daughters and the elder daughter's infant son, were travelling by the Howrah-Madras Mail to Madras. Before reaching the Madras border, while still in Andhra Pradesh, we suddenly felt the carriage rocking to and fro violently and almost jumping up and down. There was a screeching and grating sound too. What was happening? Was the train going to derail? We were terrified - I at once took my little grandson and held him securely in my arms, praying fervently for divine grace. As if by magic, the train slowed down and came to a halt with a grinding noise. The passengers from the other coupes like us came out into the passage to find out what had happened. It seemed that some part of the undercarriage of our bogie had become loose and hence all the passengers in the affected bogie had to shift to other compartments wherever there was sitting space. We had to jump down, as the train was in some open space. The bogie was then detached from the train. Later the train proceeded without further mishap to Madras.

We can look back upon such incidents in a detached and calm manner. But when such unusual events take place, we feel frightened and flustered. However I feel these events add spice and colour to life, don't they?