My father arranged a thread ceremony for me when I was 11-year-old. I felt important as I diligently followed the elders’ instructions to follow the priest all the time. During the ceremony, my juvenile eyes spotted a few beads of summer sweat trickle down the rotund belly of the bare-chested priest, a bit like a skier would come down the mountain slope. The sweat tickled his belly into a quivering motion, causing him to swipe his belly in one swift movement. Despite having no sweat drops nor a belly, I mechanically repeated his action, causing great laughter all around. I
Disclaimer: These are personal views of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect the opinion of www.business-standard.com or the Business Standard newspaper

)