Indian Blog World, a blog magazine for indians around the world.

Delhi Transport

jaideep kelkar — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 04:59:07 +0000

Traveling in Delhi is basically punishment, except when one travels by Metro Rail. Metro Rail has been the greatest gift to the citizens by Delhi’s bureaucratic government. The Metro is vital in Delhi. Without the Metro, Delhi will be as crippled as Mumbai. But, in this case, the crippling of Delhi is based on the assumption that the Blue Line Buses will cripple people.

Yes, the Blue Line buses give all the ‘Honor-Killers’ a run for their money. They’re responsible for about 40% of Delhi’s killings and 99.9% of road accidents. Every Blue Line Bus driver has his Key Result Area (KRA) of how many accidents per day he causes. Their other KRA is how many traffic signals to jump. They also get combo points when they jump a signal and bump and cripple someone. Every driver is awarded 5 additional combo points for causing death of a pedestrian or a Rickshaw-puller.

A slightly better and moderate cousin of the Blue Line is the Delhi Transport Corporation (DTC) Bus. A DTC’s main objective is to warn other travelers on the road. Essentially, there is no difference in the indifference towards the travelers on the road between a DTC and a Blue Line. The difference, though, lies in the fact that they will stop exactly an inch from bumping into someone, but not kill anyone. But a DTC always serves this warning – I will give you a chance to live, but the Blue Line behind me will kill you! A peculiar character of the DTC, which, I observed is that, the conductor is the owner of the bus and not the DTC. He will make sure that you realize that he’s doing you a favor by offering you an opportunity to travel in the bus and without which, you are a douche-bag. I should also add that he thinks he’s the most important person in the history of important people.

Another important mode of transport is the Cycle-Rickshaw. Cycle-Rickshaws are quite warm-hearted, unlike their arrogant and self-righteous cousins, the Auto-Rickshaw. Any Auto-Rickshaw’s KRA is the number of passengers they refuse a ride. I think my hit ratio of hauling an auto and getting a ride in an auto is about 10%. I, in fact, feel that there a secret club of Auto-Rickshaws who meet every night and discuss how many passengers they refused a fare. Oh, and did I tell you that they brag about it too? It’s like… Huh! You refused only 16! I refused about 36!

Old Man’s Paradise

md1988 — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 04:59:05 +0000

The Prologue

“Whose letter is it?” Brinda asked her husband, Ashok.

“Dad’s. He likes giving surprises!” Ashok replied “They haven’t gone to Kasi*”

“Then where did they go?” She asked.

“Old Man’s Paradise!”

“Old Man’s Paradise? What place is that?”

“We shall find out soon,” He said “As he has invited us over there.”

***

The train was going through a place which had greenery on either side. Ashok peeped through the window of the train compartment.

“Do you see him?” Brinda asked.

“Yes, I see him!” Ashok replied, he had seen his father’s friend Dayanand holding a sign board with “Welcome to Old Man’s Paradise!” written on it.

He tried to pull the chain down with all his might.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” asked a man, who was with them in that compartment.

“ We are going to get down the train!” He said turning back “I think it is stuck…come on, guys, help me!” He added looking at his family members.

His wife Brinda and his two daughters Priya and Preethi held his waist and pulled him back. The chain came down as well as the train came to a screeching halt.

“Who pulled the chain?” The T.C. asked, rushing towards their compartment.

“I did!” Ashok said, taking down the luggage.

“Oh, you should be that old man’s son” The T.C. said rather annoyed “You’ll have to pay a fine of…”

“Rupees five hundred…here it is!” Ashok said giving it to him.

“It’s nice to see you guys” Dayanand said with a warm smile “It is about fifteen minutes walk from here. Please follow me!”

“Dayanand Uncle, isn’t there a railway station nearby?” Ashok asked.

“Yes, there is one in the town.”

“And how far is this town from here?”

“Thirty kilometers!”

Soon, they reached the compound wall of the Old Man’s Paradise. As they entered, they saw Gulmohar trees and Yellow flame trees on either side of the path. It gave the feel to the name “Old Man’s Paradise”.

There was a pond with lotus flowers and a wooden bridge in the middle to cross it. On the other side, there was one huge banyan tree with a circular platform below. As they walked ahead, they found a big building with a beautiful spring fountain before it. The spring fountain was surrounded by colourful flower plants.

“Welcome to old man’s paradise!” Ashok’s father Kishore said, welcoming them inside.

“Hi!”Ashok’s mother Rukmini said coming.

“Why are your hands muddy, gandma?” Preethi asked.

“Well, I was plucking the vegetables for the lunch” She said.

“Plucking vegetables?” Brinda asked surprised.

“Yes, we grow our own vegetables in the vegitable- garden behind the house.” Rukmini replied.

Later, they all had lunch together on the dinning table.

“Well, hope you like the food.” Rukmini said.

“Yeah, we like it!” Ashok said smiling at his mother.

“Dad, how did you guys come to this place?” Ashok asked.

“Well, son, it’s a long story..It was long time back…” Kishore said.

“Grandpa, start it with ‘Once upon a time long, long ago..’” Preethi interrupted.

“Once upon a time long, long ago…when we friends weren’t even married…we all set out for a trip in our car. We had lost our way and reached this wonderful village…As it had turned dark, so we had decided to stay back in this village for that night. We were pleasantly surprised by the wonderful hospitality of these innocent villagers. The best thing about them was that they all lived like one big family…” Kishore started the story.

“Though they had their problems. They had power supply only for a couple of hours or so in a day. We, friends used to think that we should do something good and nice to others…which would give us joy and satisfaction in return..”

So we came back again to this village and talked to them about solving their power problem with solar energy. They co-operated with us and we solved their energy crisis.”

“Then the next big problem was that they used to waste their hard earned money by drinking, smoking and gambling. We tried to get rid of these three bad habits of these villagers and succeeded in the same, though this one took longer time to achieve.”

“The impact was so much that the person who was selling vine in vine shop was forced to close it and open a provision store in its place.” Dilip added.

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Ashok said

“Then we realized that these villagers weren’t educated and they were many times cheated in the town. So, we decided to come here some weekends and teach them to read and write.” Dayanand said.

“You guys did all this before you all got married?” Ashok asked.

“Yes, It was then your dad got this wonderful idea of buying some land over here and settling after our retirement.” Pradeep said.

“When we told this to the villagers, they were more than happy and gave us thirty acres of land in the outskirts of this village for a reasonable price. They even helped us to bring this dream place together and took care of the same in our absence.” Dayanand said.

“ But, why thirty acres?” Ashok asked.

“Well, I and Vishnu wanted to grow grapes!” Dilip said.

“I wanted to grow mangoes!” Pradeep said.

“It was my dream to grow strawberries someday..” Raghu said.

“I wanted tomatoes..” Dayanand said.

“Well, I wanted to grow sunflowers..so we needed more land.” Kishore said.

“That’s very nice!” Ashok said smiling at them. “You guys have achieved your dream!”

“Son, If you believe in your dreams, then go after them and never rest in peace until you achieve them.” Kishore said.

You’re right, dad!” Ashok said.

“As a matter of fact, they didn’t tell us too. We all were under impression that we were going to Kasi.” Narmada, Vishnu’s wife said.

They all rested for a while after a delicious meal. Later, they played “UNO” game together. In a way, the game had become like a tradition amongst them. Then they took bicycles and went peddling around the green path. They passed by the sun flowers field, the mangroves, grapes yard, strawberry and tomatoes fields.

When they were returning back, it started raining.

“It is very nice to peddle a bicycle in rain, you know.” Vishnu cried.

“Yeah!” They all cried back in chorus.

When they reached back, hot snacks and tea was waiting for them.

“It’s a wonderful place!” Ashok said very pleased.

“Yes, you won’t regret growing old.” Raghu said smiling at him.

“How about watching a movie in the home theatre?” Dilip suggested.

Krishore led them to the large hall which had a big library of books, music cds and movie dvds at one end, and a home theatre in the other end.

Kishore picked up the movie “Big Fish”. They all watched this movie directed by Tim Burton and enjoyed it.

“I have seen this movie many times” Kishore said “and I have enjoyed it every time!”

Later, Kshore gave a book to his grand daughter Priya. It was a collection of short stories. She was surprised to see her grand father’s name on the cover page of the book.

“Grandpa, I never knew that you write?” She said.

“You wrote it, dad?” Ashok asked, taking it from her and going through it.

“Well, I used to write when I was young. Later, I became busy and couldn’t continue it. Now, I had time so thought of doing it.” Kishore said smiling. “Here is my first collection of short stories!”

“I’m proud of you, dad!” Ashok said.

“Thank you, son.”

The Epilogue

“I hope you enjoyed your stay over here.” Kishore said.

“Yes, dad, we sure did” Ashok said “It was like a dream come true!”

“All this will be yours along with children of my dear friends when you guys grow old.” Kishore said.

“Thanks, dad” Ashok said.

The End

Power of small things

Israel — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 07:37:55 +0000

Have you ever wondered how small things we use at home and office have made our life easier and comfortable? Strangely, we least remember the inventors of these contraptions or we don’t even try to find out who the were.

Safety pins

Take the safety pins for instance. Is there any home right up to the smallest village level without safety pins? It’s such a small thing to handle too. I often think how mothers some 1000 years back kept their baby’s napkin firm in the child’s hindquarters.

Mr. Walter Hunt, an American designed the first safety pin in 1849 to keep pieces of clothes together. This was made from a single piece of steel wire. Not seeing much prospects for the invention, he sold off his patent for $ 400 dollars to a friend to pay off a debt. But later in April 1849, he obtained a patent for an improved model of a steel wire coiled at one end and the protruding end locked in a crevice. By and large we use this model even today.

Ask any Home maker if she could administer her house without safety pins. She would say an emphatic NO.

Hair clips

According to records, hair clips were designed and patented by Kelly Chamandi in 1925. This is an offshoot of safety pins and was introduced some 75 years after the safety pins. Why such a long time gap, is difficult to comprehend. Possibly the ladies in those days didn’t need them. Not so in present time. No lady regardless of the hair style she is used to, could live without hair clips. A cheap material but very valuable for keeping the hair from flying off.

Push pins

We use them for pinning together sheets of paper usually in offices. In recent times staplers have come into use but yet push pins are much more effective and preferred by the office goers. It is not known who invented this but since no ingenuity was required, the manufacturers have been concentrating their effort on producing a number of varieties. Several models have come into the market such as map pins with colourful heads and flat pins etc.

We didn’t have the push pins in India for many years. I still remember the office clerks and superintendents using ‘thorns’ to keep stacks of paper around the year 1935. Push pins possibly came to India during World War II. It’s a valuable piece in all types of offices and banks. But for the push pin we wouldn’t know how to keep two sheets of paper together.

Sewing needle

It appears that Muslims in Spain used needles with an eyelet through which a thread was passed for stitching clothes or mending them. They were driven out of Spain in the 15^th century. The needle concept was then taken by them to Arabian lands and later found its way to England in the 17^th century. The design was perfected and mass produced in England,

Thread and needle are valuable items in any home even today. How will you stitch your buttons without thread and needle?.

Sewing machines

I feel that one of the greatest inventions for man kind is the sewing machine. It is an equipment which cannot be replaced nor could we do without it.

The fore runner for a sewing machine is a needle with an eyelet. It was Walter Hunt (Safety pin fame) who used the needle to produce a sewing machine of sorts in the year 1849. He lost interest in it thinking that it would create unemployment. One Elias Howe reinvented the machine whose design was copied by Isaac Merrit Singer who made further improvement by placing the needle vertically and a presser foot to keep the cloth in place, along with a shuttle underneath. Thus came into being the modern sewing machine and has been monopolized by Merrit Singer.

I wonder how life would be if there are no sewing machines and tailors around in the world. You have to then wrap round your body a five meter long cloth to go outside your home. Could you imagine yourself walking like a ghost on the streets? That would have been your apparel in the absence of a sewing machine and tailor.

Stethoscope

In spite of digital electronics and associated devices, it is the Stethoscope which continues to be a Physician’s pass port. Have you ever seen any doctor without stethoscope garland round his neck? You snatch it away, any doctor would feel most miserable.

One Rene Laennec, a French man, was the inventor of the stethoscope. He was serving as a physician in 1816 and he wanted to examine the condition of his patient’s heart. He took a thick paper, rolled it into a cylinder shape, put one end on the patient’s heart and the other end to his ear. He heard the heart beats clearly. Thus came into being the stethoscope to feel the heart beats all over the upper portion of a human body. Though the invention is some two hundred years old, the world has not found a replacement for it and as cheap.

The above are inexpensive things and are commonly available which make our life easy. Don’t you think we need to thank the inventors? Further more, they have become inseparable parts of our daily life and are irreplaceable inventions too. They may go on and on for centuries.

Living In Nineteen Eighty-Nine

md1988 — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 07:37:51 +0000

Presidency in the middle of the eighties
She almost never found
when she fell in love
and she knew he never did..
..
A dark blue denim kurta
and a light faded Jeans
with the upper half of the handkerchief
flung outside the pocket.
..
This is how she remembered him,
Trying to convince everybody in the hall
that communism was still the need of the hour.
Even though Reagan, Osho & George Michael ruled minds then.
But he like always knew what he was saying.

Perhaps it was then
when she fell in love with him
even though he lost the debate
and human capitalism won hands down
or maybe when
she saw him talking to
the tea vendor outside Presidency
detailing what Gorbachev is doing
and the vendor asked, who was Gorbachev dada
But when she saw him playing football
at Calcutta maidan with all the kids.
She knew it was love.

He was Heathcliff Mukherjee to her
a name dedicated to his antics
and the way he smiled at her
in a strange contorted but angry way
Heathcliff personified for her
Once told her,
‘You belong to tollygunge neither Presidency nor me’
and she said
‘And you heath belong to me, not Glazkov.’
He just smiled, contorted.
She knew then that he didn’t.

As love for him was always
an abstract notion
and he disliked things more than loved,
like bourgeoisie people,
people like her
The idea that he was in love with
was communist utopia
and Russian writers, but her
may be she loved him a lot more for this.

It was this devotion to his ideals
that she loved and hated
and yet it was the seed
that let her love grow.
..
For him it was
how she always had a poem in mind
for his thoughts
and the way she said,
Alturas de Machu pichu.
Though it was never she the reason perhaps.

Yet nineteen eighty nine broke him
the wall broke
and Russia made
his thoughts had failed him.
His ideals betrayed
a lost man he was
He decided to leave Presidency
for a govt. school in Midnapur,
never to be back.
He left her a Canto-General
few photographs and his memories.

The bourgeoisie in her
had to move on in life.
Though she read Peoples democracy every week
and a few times found his articles too,
Once he wrote
‘Our struggle against Neocolonialism is like
Heathcliffs love for Catherine
we can never attain it perhaps
but the fight gives us
the strength to breath.’
And she knew he loved her as well.

It has been two decades,
two fallen empires
and twenty seven articles in Peoples democracy
but she still hasn’t forgotten
the dark blue denim kurta
and a light faded Jeans
with the upper half of the handkerchief outside.

She prays perhaps in some village in Midnapur
a man stuck in 1989 and communism hasn’t as well.

Another Rainy Day…

md1988 — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 05:19:32 +0000

She had finally managed to get an off day from work, after weeks of hectic round-the-clock work at the hospital. In spite of having made plans to sleep in late, her eyes opened to the six o’clock morn. Cursing her own circadian rhythm of waking up daily at six, she sat up on her cot. An entire day with no work seemed highly appealing. Smiling to herself, she walked out of her room. The quarter wing seemed empty, with everyone still in cozy slumber.

It was still drizzling; as it had when she had gone to bed last night. The rain sprayed itself on her as she walked over to the mess. A cup of coffee and the Hindustan Times paper in hand, she got back to her room. The raindrops fell at her window sill with a clunk, a voice she loved. Sipping the hot coffee, she skimmed through the daily news. Nothing ever interested her. As always, she tossed it across the bed, and switched her laptop on. It had been almost a year since she moved into this city. Kolkata boasted of colours, vibrant culture, fabulous cuisines and rich literature. It breathed a life of its own, and it was almost impossible for her to not fall in love with it. The melancholy of the Howrah bridge and the lushness of Victoria place; she loved every bit of it. It was as though the city read her mind, toyed with her mood and made her feel overwhelmed. And it had a lot many more reasons too.

While checking her mails, she found a name flicker on her chat messenger. Her fingers reached out on their own, typing out a hello. It had been months since she had seen that name in her list of online friends. He replied back. He had known that she had shifted to his city, she found out. But how, she did not ask. He spoke of his wife and family, his work and home and friends and life as such. She told him about her new research, her endless hours of hospital duty, her new life, her husband and lot more. He sent over his wedding pics, and they spoke about married life- about the good times and bad. Two good friends were opening up to each other after a while. A long while, indeed.

The coffee had dried out, but their conversation hadn’t. She remembered the endless times she had heard him go on and on about his city, his Kolkata. She had known the nooks and corners of the city, even while she had never stepped out of Madras. The best sweet shops, the oldest of Indian Coffee Houses, where Tagore and his contemporaries used to have coffee and discuss literature and art; the dingy bookshops across the markets where first edition prints were on sale, unknown to most. She knew it all. She had always dreamed of being here and today as she sat in her room in the very same city, she thought of how ironical life was.

The entire afternoon was spent in the bank, and she felt doggone tired by the time she got back. The day had been kind of funny. She felt happy after her chat, yet a part of her bled of a hollow nostalgia. She decided to not waste more time, and began to surf data for her research. She was startled by a buzz.

“Hi. How are you?”

“I am okay.” she typed back, wondering why he asked her so.

“But I am not.”

“What? Why?” she typed out in a flash. She did not understand him.

“Everything was fine until I saw you today- your texts, the new display picture, and the new you… Knowing you are in the same city had been hard enough. I would see you online most often, but I’d always be invisible. I never wanted to let you know. Just one general conversation, and I am shattered, Yami. I know you are married. So am I; and I know I should not be carried away. I also know that I’d be back to normal in a while. But still, I don’t know why, even after such a long time, you affect me. And, that too, to such a great extent.”

She felt lost. She hadn’t wanted to bother him, or cause him any trouble. It had been so very long, that she never considered such a possibility to have existed. Her fingers traced over the keyboard aimlessly. A pang of regret stabbed at her. She should not have initiated the conversation, she realized. Somehow, it hurt her.

“I am so sorry. I never thought it would be this way. It has been a very long time. I just could not not say hello.”

“I am not blaming you Yami. It feels wonderful to know how you are, and what is happening with you. It really does. But at the same time, a part of me is reminded of what could have been, and what could not be. I am very much happy with my wife, my family, my work and life as a whole. I know you are happy and life is smooth, with your husband. I know the long distance might be hard, but at the same time, I know you are happy together. So am I. Life is good. Yet, today as you came in, fresh as ever, I feel empty. Maybe I am not as strong as you are. Maybe I never expected it, so the shock. I don’t know…”

She sat back, a lump forming in her throat. She typed back: “I understand what you mean. Just as you said, we’ll go back to being normal, in a short while. It is just a moment of nostalgia, a rewind of those memories which never blossomed. Nothing more than that. So, please cheer up, and maybe another couple of years later, we’d talk again, and then we’d feel differently…or maybe we’d feel the same…But that does not matter. What matters are the present, the daily routine and the often boring normalcy of our lives.”

“Yes. You are right. I am glad I have had those memories with you. I just have one regret. I want to see you once. Once in this lifetime. And at the same time, my mind says I don’t want to; I should not want to, rather. And I know, I would not, too. Well…it’s been a long conversation. I guess I’d get back to the life, which I left behind, the moment I saw you online. Take care, Yami. You are special, and always will be.”

“You take care too. I am glad that we both are happy and enjoying life. At one stage, I never thought you’d be. Nor would I. But time does heal a lot of wounds. Prayers, always. Until life decides to grant us a moment like this from the past, God bless!!”

“You too Yami… Wish I were as level-headed and strong as you are. You manage to move on so well. And I am so glad you do. Hope you have a wonderful life with your husband, and I hope you both get to be together soon. Take care. ”

The green dot next to his name died away. She laughed at the irony of his statements, the irony of her life. Strong and level-headed; having managed to move on with life- ah, ironical. She shut her system down, and walked over to the veranda. The rain still drizzled on. She stood for a long time watching the raindrops die away, merging with the soil.

“Yamini, what is it in the rains that hypnotize you to such an extent?” she heard someone ask. Shaken up from her reverie, she turned back to her colleague.

“I have always loved the rains. I often feel as though the droplets fall for my sake… Just for myself…As though the rainclouds delve headlong into my thoughts, and rain my thoughts away… ”

“As always, I cannot comprehend what you speak Yamini. Anyway, how is the groom-hunt going on at home? Did they finally find someone, who matches all your criteria?”

“Never.”

She said no further, turning back to face the rains. And the rains lashed on in a new fury, as though the clouds were indeed reading her mind. And she smiled at the irony of her life!

Random Rhymes of Life…

jaideep kelkar — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 05:19:15 +0000

Hungover
Run-over

Ticket queues
Deviant views
Forex cues
Market blues

No work
Feel like a jerk
Go berserk

Depressing rains
Open drains
Derailing trains

Trivial job
Boss, a slob
Murky future orb

Boss’s diatribe
He will jibe
You shall imbibe

Travel alone
Disaster prone
Torn, Thrown, Disowned

Television
Common – “wealth” dissipation
Reality competitions
Terrorist confrontations

Concealed crimes
Boys in their prime
Killing for a dime
Life and death rhyme
Life and death rhyme…

Thank you love – A poem

samaira — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 05:25:30 +0000

“I was so alone,
You came into my life,
And gave me my smile.

I never shared my feelings with anyone,
But you gave me reason to share them with you.

I never cared so much for anyone,
But you gave me reason to care for you.

I never loved anyone so much,
But you gave me reason to love you.

Your love is unconditional one,
With no twist and turn.

You changed my perception to at life,
And changed my life from dull to bright.

Thank you for the love you give me,
Thank you for the care you show me,

Thank you for all those beautiful moments that you have given me,
Thank you for everything.”

Honda wins the battle over Mercedez

swarnabhadutta2007 — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 05:25:18 +0000

MERCEDES -BENZ E CLASS VS HONDA ACCORD

When it comes to talk about 4 wheeler, Mercedez benz is always a favourite choice for most of the people in growing world,but when it comes to comparison where it stands? The car is right at the bottom -yes, dead last for the fuel efficiency with 6.94 Kmpl in India(mercedez benz E class).

As per a survey meter we come to know that 20 Mercedez benz owner rated the E-class for poor practicality while it has been rated 2^nd for comfort,3^rd for performance, 4^th for reliability, 3^rd for overall.

So who is the catcher? To me Accord is the winner over Mercedez E class. It tops the chart in reliability, it is ranked third for handling , comfort, and second for performance, ride, steering and practicality .The problem with Honda Accord is arguably the electrical and bodywork, though clutch and breaks are cool. So in my opinion Honda is the king of the road in India.

Janmashtami,A Hindu Festival,September2nd

Kala Vijayaraghavan — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 00:43:44 +0000

Janmashtami , an enchanting Hindu festival

Janmashtami also called Krishna Jayanthi is celebrated by all Hindus in India.It is one of the sweetest concepts on which a festival is founded. It is celebrated in the Tamil month of Aavani[which normally falls in September,] and Lord Krishna’s birth star is Rohini. Lord Krishna was supposed to be born at midnight and it normally rains during the birth of Krishna. This period coinciding with the southwest monsoon, it does rain. But, even in Tamil Nadu, where south west monsoon is not always accompanied by rain in certain parts , it does rain or at least drizzle.

The Hindus adorn their households with a beautiful Rangoli, and the baby feet of Lord Krishna are seen walking from the threshold to the shrine in the house, where His idol and pictures are kept and decorated with flowers.

The belief is that Baby Krishna is walking into every devotee’s house and the petal soft chubby little feet leave pearly imprints there. These imprints are seen in white kolams on the floor. Baby Krishna walks into the house and happily helps himself to His favorite dishes.

Many people fast during the day and they make certain special dishes as an offering to Lord Krishna. A famous quote from the Divya Prabhandam[a religious text in Tamil] where it talks of “Appamudan aval kalandha sitrurundayum akkaravadisalum[1]’,has inspired some people to make these dishes and offer them to Lord Krishna.

Krishna is said to be a lover of butter, beaten rice etc.., and these are offered to Him along with other fruits, kheer, condensed milk etc..People prepare these with love and affection for the beautiful baby Krishna., All chant prayers invoking the Lord and sing songs praising Him.

There is fun and merriment in different parts of India and many youngsters celebrate this in different ways. The idol of Lord Krishna is taken round the streets in a procession in some places. There are games where youngsters participate in ‘uriyadi’ , a game where pots are tied on top of poles and the boys stand on the shoulders of other boys in circles and try to reach the top and win the prize in the pot. ] This Uriyadi’ function is another episode in Lord Krishna’s colorful childhood.

India is rich in its diversity and the festival has quaint little differences in the way it is celebrated in various parts of India, but the spirit is one, one of devotion and love to Lord Krishna.

This is one of the most enchanting festivals of the Hindu Religion.

[1] appam-a sweet dish made of riceflour,jaggery,coconut

aval-beaten rice

sitrurundai-round sweet balls made of coconut and jaggery also called sukiyan

akkaravadisal-kheer made of condensed milk and jaggery and dry fruits.

Bread and Belt.

md1988 — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 00:35:54 +0000

I was hungry and wished I could earn my bread just like humans do, but they have left nothing for others. I wish I was in a forest, hunting some animal and living happily, until some other animal hunted me down, but I’m not blessed enough to deserve that ecstasy. I lived among humans who consider themselves as Gods of earth. In one way they are right, they are Gods of destruction. They destruct everything they pass by.

I ignored their atrocity and sat in front of a small bakery, waiting for someone to throw a piece of bread. I never slept with a full stomach but hoped I would get at least a mouthful of bread, so I can survive another day. These days, no dog can be sure he will get to eat something, the next day.

I waited for hours and hours, but no one ever glanced at me. Still, I waited hoping someone would be generous enough to throw a small piece of bread. Hundreds of people walked in and walked out, carrying loads of food with them. For a moment, I wished even I was a human, but the idea was so disgusting, I gave up immediately. I did not want to be a human, who wouldn’t even throw a piece of bread at a poor dog.

I whined supposing someone will hear me and show some pity on me, but no one showed me any mercy. A man walked out of the bakery carrying a belt in his hand and hit me before I could retreat. I limped away from there as soon as possible, not wanting to die today.

I had not eaten anything since morning and on top of it I was hurt. My left leg ached like hell. I prayed to God asking him to give me death if not bread. I did not remember doing anything that would make me deserve so much pain and also hunger, and then I supposed I might have been a human in my past life.

I limped and limped, until the sky cried along with me. I took shelter beneath a tree not wanting to get drenched in cold water. I was already hungry and hurt, I did not want to catch cold too. There were lot of trees around and they looked good in rain. I drank some water hoping it would keep me alive, tonight.

A man ran towards the tree under which I was standing and then kicked me off from there and before I could wonder why he kicked me, my right leg hit a stone and started bleeding. I slept under another tree and drifted into dreams. The dream was wonderful unlike the reality. A young boy offered me a piece of bread and I licked his hand thankfully. He smiled at me…he looked so angelic.

Next morning, when I opened my eyes I found another dog sleeping nearby. I looked around and felt very happy. Everything looked so peaceful, but not the dog. It was hurt. There was blood all around him. I walked towards him and realized my legs didn’t hurt anymore. I looked at them and was surprised to see they were perfectly alright…no blood and no wound.

My heart stopped when I almost walked into the dog that was hurt. Then, I realized I had no heart to stop, it had already ceased. The dog sleeping nearby was me…my dead body. Someone had run a vehicle over me. I was drenched in blood and was almost in two pieces. I did not feel sorry for myself, instead I was glad I had felt no pain while dying. This was better than living with human. I closed my eyes and evaporated into the sky praying for peace.

Pains Of My Past – A Poem

samaira — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 09:13:25 +0000

“It is hard to forget those days,
Till now,
Memories of that past stay.

When everyone was enjoying the trip to tracking,
I had to stay home, only dreaming.

When everyone was enjoying, trip to sea beaches,
I was only left to turn pages.

When they were preparing for handball,
I had to stop thinking of my goals.

When they were gearing to play handball on state and national levels,
I was busy asking my teachers, for name to be cancelled.

When all of them were partying,
I was only left with sobbing.

When they having fun at college freshers,
I was still to find that ‘HAPPINESS’ as a treasure.

No one knows,
What has gone inside me,
I try hard to forget everything, that has happened to be,
Still my past walks like a shadow with me.

I know life doesn’t stop and is really fast,
That is why, I want to forget that painful past.”

A Daughter Makes a Father Respect Women

mimpi — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 09:12:35 +0000

The man eyes the rogue
Guarding his girl like a wounded lion
He felt like piercing those eyes
That told of lewd cravings

It seems not so long when he was one of them
He used to flaunt being immoral
He was lewdness personified
Life hasn’t changed much since

Only that he has a daughter now
Who made him respect women.

Definitely… Definitely!!

jaideep kelkar — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 00:22:14 +0000

My boss at is a amazing fellow to work with. I realized that after working in my firm only for about a week. He is an amazing communicator and much better listener… (Sic! He’s totally NOT!!) Whenever anyone confidently speaks 3 to 4 sentences in English, he agrees with the person by ecstatically saying, “Definitely… Definitely!!”. And that too in a freakishly rustic accent.

I was about to close my first deal, a pretty big one mind you! It was a deal after which I could sit around and do nothing for the next month! It was for a branding campaign in the cities of Delhi, Jaipur and Chandigarh. I had literally closed the deal until my boss said that he will come along with me. I had no choice but to take him along, which is when tragedy struck!

We sat with the Senior Manager of the client. And just to put us off the course, she says to my boss, “You know Mr. Mishra, we do have offices in Jaipur and Chandigarh, but I really don’t think that we might look at those as options for your branding plan. We don’t have much presence in those 2 cities… plus the budget is tight… ”

My boss after hearing such “high level” English, dumbfounded, blurted out, “Definitely… Definitely!!”. Eventually, we lost the deal…

Winds of Change

rngarud — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 01:32:28 +0000

The only thing constant in this fast world is change,

Of truth and fiction, the former one is indeed strange.

Moon phases occur from lunar to full,

Economies vary on the continuum of bear to bull.

Technologies change and advance,

Buds become flowers and start to dance.

Even mankind has gone through evolutions,

Nations have waged wars,

Thus have occurred revolutions.

From summer to spring

Seasons keep changing.

Days keep advancing,

from morning to evening.

Good days change into bad,

Bad into good.

From gloom to bloom,

This is how changes mood.

Attitudes change,

Destinies change.

Times change,

Tides too undergo change.

Call them evolutions; or call them advances,

Or may be sheer change.

They all co-exist in life’s open range.

So the sooner we adapt,

The better we can adopt.

Our practical world talks and walks change,

Is there anything else that bears a higher claim?

It’s change that is the name of the game…

Abide by the sanctity of your freedom

Israel — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 01:32:23 +0000

Parents of young maidens these days permit quite a bit of freedom for them unlike some forty or fifty years back. So, there could be a temptation on their part to misuse this privilege and in the bargain ruin their own future.

Why do Indian parents place such heavy restrictions on the conduct of their daughters while they allow their sons far greater liberty than they deserve ? Some bold daughters have even questioned their mother about this discrimination especially about the time of return home after school/college or play time. If a son comes home after 8.30 p.m,, not a word is said but if a daughter does that, she is subjected to heavy cross examination. “Why?”

“Because, my child,” the mother would start after caressing her head a bit, “If you make a mistake, your future will be in doldrums.. That’s why ….?” After a long pause, mummy adds, “You understand that, don’t you?”

Sunita, 17, really hadn’t understood the logic behind it at all. So, mother takes her aside and tells her some hard truths .“You know our next door Aunty, Mrs. Sudharshan? She is a senior nurse in the Government hospital….?”
.

Sunita nods knowledgeably.

Then the mother looks to her left and right to ensure that there are no eaves droppers and continues, “I believe last week, a school girl in her l uniform went to Aunty secretly for carrying out an abortion on herself…”

Sunita crouched with a “What ?”

“Yes, my daughter, this school girl was pregnant at the age of 17.
Could you imagine what her future is going to be? It’s gone, it’s gone for a six. You understand that, don’t you my child?”

Sunita defended herself saying,“But I won’t allow any boy to touch me like … touch me …? “

Even before Sunita finished her line, the mother intervened and said, “It could happen at a moment of weakness, my child. One bad moment could destroy your future life of some 50 years..”

Mother continued. Free sex is the talking subject among you girls these days. You are all aware of the availability of pills, condoms etc. But then there could be slips. What will happen if a girl gets pregnant at the age of 15 or 16. True, one could go in for an abortion on the quiet. But, can you hide this fact from your future in-laws and husband? You have to tell them that and that could be the end of your marriage prospects.

Also, on the nuptial bed itself, your Man may ask, “Any previous sex experience ?” If you say ‘yes’, some husbands may condone it and if you say ‘no’ while the truth is ‘yes’ he might lose all respect for you and treat you as a second grade woman; he might even abandon you some day.

Let’s say there has been no cross examination by your hubby and life goes on well, One day years later, your own most virtuous daughter may ask you, “Mamma, were you a good girl like me during your teen age days? Or, were you a naughty type?” You could tell a lie to your child and get off but your conscience would keep pricking you for days.”

So, why not avoid all these hassle by being pure and not misusing your freedom. Fall in love all right if you come across a nice man but have no physical contact whatever.

A question was steaming in Sunita’s mouth and the mother had sensed it too. “No further discussion on the subject,” mother had said and sent her to her room to continue her studies.

===========

Bye, bye any time

Israel — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 03:04:57 +0000

Heavy pay packet, has made our women soft ware engineers view life from a wrong angle. They seem to break all rules of moral ethics of South Indian life. Where would this lead them to ultimately ? It’s anybody’s guess.

The first thing they think of is to release themselves from parental control. So, they leave their home bag and baggage, despite sweet appeals amounting to begging, and live on their own in cottages or flats. Do they cook their own food? Never, this is an art they have not or have refused to learn at home much against her mother’s will. There are umpteen number of eateries in the city in addition to the canteen at the work place. So food is no problem at all for these single women. Oh, how they love their independence ! They can return to their ‘living place’ any time they like, take a lift from any gent and reach the house in any physical state. After office time, they could go where they like. No questions asked including a friend who lives likewise but one who has a little bit of conscience -pinch.

Do several software engineering women combine and lead a joint life, say something like a mini hostel. Never. What for ? They could afford the cost. To each her own, is the rule.

Life becomes somewhat boring for Vandana after a few months of ‘loneliness’. She does miss her mother and brother/sister but then she soon cast them aside and focuses her mind on a greener pasture. “Why not live with a man?” her mind suggests. “ No, no, not marriage, dash it. Marriage has too many strings attached to it…” In marriage she won’t get the same amount of freedom of action as a single girl. Why not a via media – live with a man, enjoy his company and closeness, which of course includes sex, and yet wander as she wishes. This is called the ‘live in arrangement’. The single software engineer, Vandana, loves this arrangement; it’s a kind of best of both the worlds . “What if she gets pregnant ?”

Don’t be silly man. You are asking foolish questions. Doesn’t she know how to avoid pregnancy without going in for abortions? Further, there are these great ‘pills’

Vandana, had a heart to heart talk with Ranjan, who was working in the same Company. She came straight to the point without going round and round in circles. Ranjan said ‘okay’ and he moved into her cottage with all his possession which was just one steel trunk. Life was grand for Vandana. No responsibility and no restrictions of any kind and she enjoyed all pleasures of life. She was a free bird and yet she had a nest for two. One day all of sudden, she felt she was making a positive way into Ranjan’s heart and was trying to find a permanent place for herself there.

After some six months of living-in, she thought that she had a lien on her man.

She questioned him one day about his closeness to Kalpana, a colleague. “She is a real chick, isn’t she?” Ranjan remarked.

“Chick, my foot,” Vandana exploded. “You are mine, my property understand? Keep away from that slouch, understand?”

Ranjan disagreed wholesale. After all he was also a free bird. “In live-in arrangement dear Vandana, there is nothing binding, nothing perpetual, you know” he apprised her. “One can break it any time and leave for good, don’t you know that ?”

Vandana was burning with fury. She couldn’t accept her man’s view on the issue. She did have some knowledge on personal law of the land. She thought she had. So, she lodged an FIR at the nearest police station and also initiated a case in the High court. What was the charge? “Desertion, neglect… and so on.” Ranjan was duly informed of the court proceedings. He had a quiet laugh in his sleeves.

Though lakhs of cases were pending in the courts, her State High Court was considerate enough to take up Vandana’s case with minimum delay. The judge didn’t take long to pronounce his verdict. “Are they married by Indian law?” he demanded of the lawyer. “No your honour. Only live-in arrangement…”

“Live- in?,” the judge echoed back very loudly. “Case dismissed. On the live- in set up, one can abandon the alliance any time. There is no commitment on any one’s part. Next case …”

Poor Vandana’s heart sank. She had begun to like Ranjan. He was a nice guy. She wanted him to live with her for ever.

“Good bye, Vandana” Ranjan bid her adieu on the following morning. “I am going to live with Kalpana from this evening. She is a chick, you see? So long, Vandana.”

Photograph

md1988 — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 03:04:52 +0000

Picture 5

You were to leave for London
and had to reapply for the passport,
you look a little older
and your eyes seem a little swollen.
Perhaps you did not sleep well.
You are wearing this unlikely yellow,How??
Its strange that they do not make people
smile for passports, strange.

I received your message,
Just before the airlines announced for departure,
It said Goodbye and a smiley.
I remember that I couldn’t smile though,
I tried.

I don’t remember
how I have this picture but I do..

..But I don’t have you.

Picture 4

It was totally out of context,
It’s at your home sometime in december
a few years ago,
It was Sharmishtha
your little sis’s engagement
and we were a little late,
I wasn’t at home for last two days
and you wanted to go together and called me up.

This picture has you
in a maroonish sari with golden hues,
You had started to gain little weight
and the smile almost looks made-up
but then who can forget
that you were the Drama Champ in JNU.

I almost hated you for this picture
but kept quite.
How can we be so preposterous to smile
for a picture when we…

We never did talk
all the while there, did we?
To look at it now
..you still look worthy of the name Cleopatra.

Picture 3

On our anniversary,
this picture was taken
in Mumbai near Tara road.
I believe we went to Marriot that night
and into Enigma because you insisted.

I can see the cool sea breeze
letting your hair fly
you look at the camera
the way you looked at me then,
the eyes of Love.

I remember you saying,
“Don’t act like an oldie
and you kissed me inside the Enigma.”
Beside Richard Marx was singing
“Right Her Waiting..”
I almost fell in love again.

You wore this Cyanish shaded top.
How clothes conscious you were
your dress radiated the sea.

We had a small fight
that evening for me being late
on our anniversary.

..Perhaps we made love that night.

Picture 2

JNU campus Delhi,
You stand besides a peacock.
Remember we posted this picture
in our wedding album
calling it the queen of Aravali
or was it the queen of Ridge?
You have both your hands towards me
and you were mouthing I love you baby
while we were taking this picture,

the light green kurta
goes so well with the Campus green.
You had won
a University level Dramatics thing
Kallol it was,I guess.

The picture is crumpled
but you still radiate yourself through it.
You remind me of Anne Bancroft here
perhaps more beautiful.

..Remember How I couldn’t let go of you then, But I did…

Picture 1

This picture is black and white
and it has no connection with me
but I have it
you were ten years old then
Baba holds your hands
and you wore polka dots,perhaps red.
Its in your old home at Saltlake.

You look so happy,
I had promised to give you the same happiness
all through our life, this way
on our wedding night
and you had just cried and smiled into my arms.

In this picture you smile
the same way you did
while enacting Portia
and winning the best actress award
at kallol in JNU,
you lost that smile
somewhere between this and London.

You didn’t know you would loose it, did you?
when we first met at JNU,
when I called you Cleopatra,
my own Cleopatra and you smiled,
when we held hands
and spent our evenings at Haze,Delhi.
I still have that smile of yours with me…

I do…

Kudos to Divergent Thinkers!

rngarud — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 03:19:18 +0000

Who says it’s only the adult creative types who bear an intrinsic talent of imagination? All those visualizers and advertising stalwarts scattered all over, or all those emphatic design engineers- it isn’t just this breed which stretch their minds beyond limits to live in a world full of imaginative frames, trying to give concrete shape and meaning to abstract ideas. The entire “imagination” and ‘abstract thinking’ talent mushrooms and grows over a period of many years. Needless to mention then, that this seed of ‘divergent thinking’ is sown in their mind and hearts as kids.

Children have fantastic imagination. Imagination is as though their buddy and they simply love to float in the mystical cloud of abstract thinking.

The last thing on any parents’ mind should be to clip or curb their imaginative thoughts by unnecessarily fencing their thought with logical reasoning. When it comes to imagination, sky is the limit, and parents need to understand this very element.

Just the other day, my friend’s daughter excitedly went over to her and told her- “mom, you know, what honey bee gives us?” Her mommy replied “Yes, dear, it gives Honey. Now, obviously this wasn’t the actual question that the kid had for her mom. She smiled at the reply, and further continued asking “Do you know what a butterfly gives us?’. Now my friend was quiet. She knew butterflies don’t give anything. But she simply replied to her daughter- “You tell me, my dear, what a butterfly gives us”. Very confidently, with an intonation of “I know it all, the six year old remarked “It gives us butter!”. Now, here’s the catch. My friend knew this wasn’t the right answer from the point of view of logical thinking. In fact, this wasn’t in any way the correct answer. But she consciously reworded her next sentence to something like this- “Your imagination is really vow”. Any other ‘reasoning’ oriented and practical mom in her place might have immediately shunned the child’s reply and said “no, this is wrong. Who fed this wrong information in your head? A butterfly doesn’t give butter at all.” At this very minute, with this point blank reply that mother would put an end to the imaginative thoughts racing in her kid’s mind. And this would pave way for the imaginary doors to become one by one shut for that child. I later acknowledged my friend whose reply was apt. She applauded her daughter’s imaginative thinking by giving the kind of reply she gave.

My other friend’s five year old child was busy watering their plants on their terrace one lazy Sunday morning, when suddenly out of nowhere a bumble bee raced into their balcony. The child was startled. From one corner, he observed the way the bee was flying around. He then dashed indoors and told his mom “Vow mommy, look at our plants. They are having so many beautiful and pretty flowers on them. That way, even the flowers in the balcony of that aunty living one floor above us, are quite colorful. But you know what? This one bumble bee was sitting on those flowers, and from up above, it saw our flowers. And then as soon as it saw our flowers, it raced downstairs from her balcony to ours, only to sit onto our flowers. It loved our colorful flowers so much”. What a story! I consider it to be a wonderful concoction, and an incredible narration of some vivid imagination that five year old is having in his magnificently wired brain.

When I asked my friend how she reacted to her son’s story, she said ‘I was quietly and attentively listening’. There and there I realized that one more creative and imaginative brain is being nurtured well. One of the most beautiful experiences parents can truly indulge in is to listen well- to listen attentively to the stories and narrations that their kids are unfolding in front of them. And the last thing on any parents’ mind is to cut them short and to ask them to keep quiet or keep it short. It instantly puts a complete full stop to their imaginary ideas, which are only going to take shape if they are being given a good ear.

Imagination in children could be toying along with words like the six year old did when she mentioned about honey bee making honey, and drawing a parallel to a butterfly making butter! She obviously knew that cow gives milk and butter. But that moment while conversing with her mom, she wanted to wander in the clouds of imagination; and her mom let her wander, with the way she replied to her statement. She didn’t pull her down, neither she did she try to correct her directly.

Imagination in children could also be cooking up nice stories and narrating them in their unique styles and tones.

Paying good attention and acknowledging their imaginary attempts is like giving rise to one new creative head on the face of this planet, which is otherwise full of “overtly practical”, no-nonsense, point blank” speaking and thinking beings all around us.

If convergent thinking has its own takers, let even divergent thinking has its own fair share. Let the creative juices flow in children today, so that tomorrow, the world would become a slightly more interesting place to live; with all these creative thinkers dabbling with newer ideas or path breaking innovations.

The Ring in a Mess

md1988 — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 03:05:43 +0000

Catherine regretted not being a conformist. Why couldn’t she simply wear the ring on the ring finger, where it actually would fit well than on the index finger? To think about it first, always and thus wearing it on the first and not the third finger seemed so stupid a reason now. Only if the ring had fit well, it wouldn’t have slipped into Spot’s feeding bowl.

She had had been rummaging through Spot’s shit for a week now. A week ago, she’d rushed Spot for an MRI to the animal hospital. Spot was alright, a fine, healthy dog. However it was Michael’s ring, that Catherine seeked in the MRI with which he’d proposed Catherine over a five-star, seven course dinner (out of which four courses were completely ignored).

She loved the ring and she loved Michael. They forgot dinner as they drowned in conversation. No one could have missed the twinkle in their talks. Catherine wanted Michael as bad as he wanted her. To show this, she’d bought him a ring too. Equally expensive and equally beautiful. Catherine was a ‘modern’ woman. It was only fair that she’d give a ring too.

Michael was overwhelmed when Catherine said ‘Yes’. He said he’d keep the ring with him forever.

Dog shit has no pleasant feel. And a week of digging her fingers in it probing for a clear-cut diamond attached to a 24-carat loop, hadn’t made Catherine a least bit comfortable to the warmth of poop. But that was her only option, as the Vet said, ”To let it out naturally.”

It was good that Michael had been out of town for that time. He knew nothing of this. She was again at shit-worrying when she got the call.

It was Michael, ”Hi dear! How have you… ummm… How do you like the ring…?”

He confessed to her. While washing his hands in the hotel bathroom, he’d taken out the ring, since it was a ‘tad too tight’ and needed getting used to. However, the bar of soap slipped from his hands and ricocheted on the ring, which in turn fell in the basin and down the sink.

”Please don’t get angry with me dear, you know I love you and woudn’t ever want something that you’d given to go like this.”

”Hmm… Its okay, we’ll talk about this when you come back. I’ve to go now, Spot’s taking a crap now, and I need to check on him.”

Catherine, was smiling now. She hoped that he didn’t notice the glee in her voice. After all he had to suffer too. She’d been suffering for a week!

Spot had dropped the last load on the sidewalk. He straightened up and began wagging his short tail, which made him look like a belly dancer. He was obviously glad about the job he’d done.

Catherine glanced at the the brown, spiral pile. She couldn’t believe her eyes! The ring was there, on top of the mound, perched like a cherry topping on a cake.

Catherine smiled, and then frowned. The relief of finding the ring; now turned to annoyance. How could have Michael been so careless?!

Forget love – I’d rather fall in chocolate!!!

mimpi — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 02:24:25 +0000

Yesterday, I came back home earlier than usual. My sister along with the kids have come over and I thought I would catch up with them little realizing that they would be napping off the jet lag. I winded up the office work ahead of time and I signed off bit early than usual. By the time I winded up and moved out, it had started to drizzle. I was hoping to get back home to a nice warm cup of cappuccino and fun with the kids. However, I started to feel little sloppy because of the cold that I have caught a few days back. Two full course of antibiotics and I am still recovering!

When I reached home, it was dark and drizzly and it was not even five. The kids were fast asleep. The weather was cool and for the first time in their visit time they did not require the AC on. The nature was pleasant and soothing. I sat down on the couch semi drowsy with my forehead and temples throbbing badly. I wasn’t really hungry but my mom kept blaming my recent apathy to food. I didn’t argue but I knew that it wasn’t the hunger – I just had food in the afternoon. I was feeling kind of down for no specific reason. I guess, It was something in the nature. I started to droop in the thoughts that I shouldn’t be. Before it could sweep me off I, consciously, I shredded off, got up and reached for the fridge.

It had hordes of chocolates – of all sorts and varieties, color and texture, which I had refrained from since a week. But yesterday, I just broke free and letting go of all my dietary pledge, I grabbed one full chocolate and bit on it. It melted inside my mouth. My mouth was soon full of the chocolate cream and then I felt the crunchiness of the hazel nuts. They were freshly roasted. I bit another square and it tasted even more good. My head nag vanished and I was animated in no time. Soon, I was left with the last cube. I was so engrossed that I didn’t even notice that my niece was eying it as she was lying half asleep on the bed just a feet away. I thought it would be mean not to share it with her. I stretched out my hand holding the last left over tiny piece. She virtually jumped out of the bed and snatched it and hugged me.

It was the energy bar that both of us needed. I wonder what life would have been without chocolates!