My tryst with compliments

I noticed this lady at a cultural event recently. She was all decked up wearing a heavy blue jewelry set aesthetically matching her traditional blue attire. She wasn't smiling much trying to dance and match steps with other people. We were positioned at some distance to be able to talk. But I couldn't help but to gesture her how wonderful she was looking. We didn't know each other at all. She wouldn't even have noticed me, a regular woman in that whole crowd of exceptionally dressed beautiful men and women. But she was elated. And we continued in our respective groups. I didn't want to say anything else. Who was she, from where she did her shopping or any other effort that can help me in any way. No, I don't want to ruin it. Let her enjoy the admiration and let me enjoy seeing the effect of it on another soul. I might not even recognize her again.

What's in the name? Tell me about it.

 ‘Ram’, I suddenly called my colleague in a group call as I struggled recalling his preferred name. I confess I am poor with remembering names and worse when I am not attentive enough to talk. It's a weakness that keeps people like me much to themselves. I am sure many would relate to this predicament. But that’s not the point here. The point is I called him Ram because out of his full long traditional Indian name which contained several small different names, that’s the only one that stood out for me when I quickly gazed at the screen to help myself out. And the real point of this story is I love the name Ram. Simply because I love Ram.