AFICIONADO

INDECISIVE FREEDOM

2011-08-15T14:37:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 23; the twenty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is FREE.

Twilight, the myriad colours of the vast horizon penetrate through the wavering thoughts of Sereen, bringing to the fore varied images of life’s authentic existence. It juggles between the confounded theory of fidelity in marriage and the betrayal from her own soul mate. It has been fifteen years of turmoil and trepidation, love and hatred, insult and remorse. Constant endurance left her a voluntary handicap in taking a stern decision for her living self. It’s an unforgivable existence, a hellish survival, created by the entry of an abominable female, the other woman, and that too, after so many years of togetherness, where she had been a perpetual support for her husband during joy and woe, success and failure, in every walk of life...now, the other woman is the prime cause of the ultimate damage to their otherwise trusted relationship. Its time to make a decision, to put an end to the monotonous ignominy of verbal interactions. Her hypersensitive psyche cries to be free, free from the clutches of matrimonial bondage. Her injured ego can no longer undergo the resentful attitude, the humiliating approach of her husband's irrational behaviour.

Ever since their marriage, it was his limitless desire to be fondled and flattered. For him, the love for the self played a dominant role in the ignition of petty issues in day to day affairs, irrespective of the responsibilities that a normal family life demand. Even the birth of a child brought no sense of mature thinking towards the fulfilment of paternal duties. On the other hand, Sereen was absolutely dedicated to her home and her profession. She did established herself as an accomplished woman of substance, but the weighty burden of servitude, both at home and at work place, left her, at times, a coaxing individual, much to the dislike of her husband. She, inadvertently ignored her husband’s relentless hankering for that physical urge, which eventually led to a liaison with his present mistress, crushing the pillars of their concrete mansion, built on the principles of loyalty and devotion.With such an abhorrent attitude, he confessed that he wants to ditch her for good, and also his child... that he finds heaven in the company of his new found present love. Yet, his hypocritical self prevents him to make a public declaration of his inexplicable intentions.

Sereen has been a noteworthy figure amongst friends and relations. With her charm and poise, she has been loved and respected by one and all. Her sincerity, dedication towards work, her self-respect brought her fame and popularity. She has been a perfect mother and a great daughter-in-law. Then what did really go wrong? How is it that during the fifteen years, her husband overlooked such virtuous qualities? Where, at the twilight of their life, priority stands in the upbringing of their only lovable child, that innocent soul, who has been experiencing an incessant grief of indignant interaction in the house. At such a tender age, she has neither understanding, nor the power, to retaliate or to subjugate such irresponsible mannerisms of the seniors. Being a concerned mother, she cannot, at any cost, put her child’s future at stake for such an apathetic man. She has to break loose from the emotional ties which still impel her to compromise and adjust with circumstances beyond her control. But is he really worth this sacrifice? Her desperate attempt to seek consolation leaves her abashed and mentally unbalanced. If love leaves as residue anguish and venom, then is it worth the sacrifice that it demands?

At the crossroads, life often produces complicated predicaments. It becomes a major issue to many, specially at critical junctures, whether to take or not to take that one bold step...innumerable hurdles to cross perhaps, profuse hardships to encounter, yet life has to move on. In this crucial juncture, Sereen is, perhaps, averse to perceive the rainbow in the sky, but, if one thinks profoundly, the other side of every fear, is freedom. One day, Sereen will also be free, but the question is, when?

Only when we are enslaved, do we yearn and strive to be free. Once we are free, do we handle with care this ultimate achievement?

HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY TO ALL

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Happy Independence Day!

JOURNEY

2011-04-03T00:37:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 19; the nineteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

“Lead yourself from the unreal to the ultimate truth, from the darkness of your mind to a world of light and from the death of ignorance to the immortality of knowledge. Transform your thoughts into actions and make your journey a pleasurable route to a blessed destiny.”

Lies in our subconscious the divination

Of an idyllic world, enamored by infantile chastity

Of the shepherd hearing his lamb’s tender reply

While grazing the folks in the sojourn mountains and valleys.

This happens to be the halcyon harbour

Of an unknown journey to a strange new destination

With a concupiscence to achieve the extremity

Intellect becomes oblivious to the satiety of the peregrination.

Childhood diffuses the beam of the morrow

Leaving fond impression of bygone memories

Unforeseeable fortune should not be the barricade

To disrupt the harmony of the manifold tunes or be the cause for worries.

A material youth juggles with interrogations of basic fulfilments

“When can I buy a new Mercedes Benz?”

“When can I eat out of German Silver?”

“When can I pay off my mortgage?”

Life becomes wretched in such disgraceful pursuit

Rapturous youth departs from the living

Wealth is achieved which might go astray

It’s only the accomplishment of ‘belief’ which lingers with the being.

In this wondrous promenade leading to the Elysium

Two distinctive souls are united in holy matrimony

It’s the music which creates this melodious strain

Adorning the saunter with either comfort or agony.

A thousand different circumstances contribute to a single journey

It’s the liberty of the self to think, feel and do as he yearns

In this tangible world, is there really a Station?

In the trip it self lies true happiness, not in the ultimate destination.

Such an inevitably arduous journey is meliorated by a truthful comrade

Who stands by in good times and bad, draught, riot, war, king’s court and even after obliteration

To walk side by side when the rest walks either in front, or behind

Asserting every challenge as a veracious and a hospitable guide.

A journey is like a home to enrich a hankering soul

With no regrets of tomorrow or fear of the future

With sight as blind and spirit as elevated

Get through the hardest instances by taking just one step at a time.

“Life perishes leaving behind a miraculous wonder

The good deeds in the world to seek and ponder.

The twilight sky after the set of the golden sun

Brings gentle breeze for the living to stay warm.

The nostalgic melody continues its mellifluous hum

In this beautiful journey, holding hands, keep moving along.”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

THE MYSTERY

2010-12-04T18:05:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 17; the seventeenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Michael Hopkins sat clumsily on a bench in Greenway Park. It was a warm summer month, at 6:30 in the evening. The little ones, some of them were fondling with the sand, some were enthralled at the play field , old men and women dotted on the benches, the distinguished players were having a tournament of soccer. The eccentric young couples were seen strolling through the long promenade, involved in crucial discussions, arousing curiosity of the passerby. The aroma of the maple leaves and blueberry bushes were being carried by the partially algid breeze. A few vehicles were seen to be moving languorously in the dark street.

It was a pleasing scene for anyone who wished to spend some time after the rushing lifestyle of urban dwelling. Hopkins was observing each expression with intent, reflections of the sudden disappearance of his wife was flashing across his mind. The ten years of solitude and anxiety about the incident, left him with a realization that a great deal of mystery is involved in the revelation of character in life, even if it is his own character to himself.

Dusk was spreading its gloom over the entire expanse, the western sky was emitting shades of orange, violet and blue. Visibility was getting poorer. Margaret, his pretty and charming wife, by a blunder of fate, was born in a lower middle-class family. Having received normal education from high school, with a mediocre circle of friends, she had no chances of getting known, or being married to a distinguished guy. Her only sacred possession was her beauty, which placed her high in the rank of women who were keenly sought after. She was a dreamer. She dreamt of exotic outings, branded shopping, expensive parlours, candlelight dinners, aristocratic gatherings, delightful operas and ardent appreciation by dignified men of honour.

She was unhappy, very unhappy with the reality that life imposed upon her. She wanted to flee, get rid of her commonplace existence and pursue the dreams that she cherished. She wanted to live the life of a queen with fame and fortune kissing her feet. She wanted an opportunity, she was seeking for the same.

Hopkins had always been a very humble and hard-working clerk, an accountant in a small government firm. He was always content with achieved perspectives. He neither had flying ambition, nor platonic expectations. His looks were ordinary too, unlike his wife. Set against their contradictory ideologies, his love for her was illimitable. But due to the pressure of fulfilling her immaterial appeals, he could barely spend time with her. He worked hard, tried to earn overtime, worked during the long weekends. Even while at home, he tried to labour on his files. He wanted to keep her happy and satiated. What he never realized in their two years of married life was her ignorance and detestation of him. He believed that she was happy with his modest expression of adoration.

Darkness was looming large, veiling the street and walkways. People were receding to their cosy chambers to conclude a day of intense activity. Hopkins rose from his seat to proceed towards his apartment. The mysterious disappearance of his wife since ten years, left him absolutely in solicitude. Since ten years he had been trying to locate her, travelling from pillar to post to get some kind of information based on her whereabouts. Neither any of her relatives, nor friends could give any news. One distant relative told him that she was heard to be in Waterloo, a small town, a few miles from Toronto. But he wasn’t aware of the address. Ever since then, he came to live in Waterloo, took up a petty job and continued with the never-ending quest, with the simple hope that some day, he would find her.

As he was sombrely progressing towards his apartment, the brief message which she left for him just the day she vanished, flashed in his memory. He could still not figure out the sense of the words, or the actual cause of her departure. It read:

Dear Michael

I have perceived a castle and in pursuit of it, I wave good bye.

Maggie

The unfathomable theory of devious character analysis was far beyond Hopkins’ incomprehensive intellect. On his return from work, absolutely exhausted, he found the note placed on top of the rusted gas stove. He saw that the room was messy, unlike the other days, the clothes were lying scattered on the bed and chair. The old, wooden dressing table was disorganized. That wasn’t Margaret’s accustomed arrangement. In the refrigerator, he found the cold meat, cooked the previous night, the wasted vegetables and a half bottle of wine. The quietness of the four walls, the sinister ticking of the clock, the dismantled furniture, all brought to his mind the fear of the unknown. He read through the message over and over again, but couldn’t decipher its true sense.

Perhaps she deserved more attention! Perhaps he had been ignorant of his limited camaraderie! How could she walk out without any confabulations? He could find no answer to the never-ending queries that the note kindled. He felt that his puny cell had lost its breath. The loneliness was gripping his soul. He couldn’t imagine a life without her. She was the oxygen of his sustenance. She was the inspiration of his perseverance. He came to a realization that success in a marriage does not come just by finding for yourself the right mate, but by being the right mate. As he stood at the door gazing at the scattered items, he couldn’t hold back the incessant tears of excruciating deprivation. He would, for certain, change for better once she returns. What could be the mystery behind the sudden desertion?

Since then, he’d been desperately foraging for the food of his existence. He was, perhaps, coming to terms with the fact that she might no longer be alive. Before he could proceed towards the elevator, he went to the laundry room to collect his clothes, which he had put to wash before he left for the park. As he was about to pick the items up, a frail and sickly lady, a cleaner maid, was trying to push through the way with a trolley carrying various cleaning liquids and wash cloths.

He moved aside to clear the passage. As she drew nearer, he was awestruck by the familiar posture of an apparently visible apparition, which benumbed his senses and congealed his spirit. What an unimaginable transformation he was witnessing! Was it the undistinguishable countenance that he had been yearning to possess over the years? Was it the same person, the quest for whom became the life force of his sustenance?

The lady, equally struck with bewilderment and embarrassment, drastically tried to push herself out of the entrance in haste. The unexpected meeting with the person whom she had ditched ten years back, placed her beneath the sharp edge of a guillotine. She wanted to escape without being recognized or interrogated, until the warm caress of those familiar arms barred her exit.

He could see her acutely then. A lean figure, stooped due to premature aging, perceivable wrinkles at the forehead, untidy grey curls falling loose on her bent shoulders, the pathetic look of those large brown eyes, sheltered by dark, wrinkled contours. She was shabbily dressed, torn at every fold. A stark contrast to the unmatchable beauty of her youth. Unmistakably it was Margaret ! His Maggie! His prayers have been answered! He was overjoyed. His long quest, finally, brought a rainbow of colours in his bleak spirit. He thanked the Almighty for keeping her alive.

“My love, finally, finally I found you Maggie. How I missed you, how I longed to see you. But why? Why in this state?”

He kissed her again and again. Margaret, still under stupor, ashamed of her demeanor, of her attire, of her betrayal, bursting with regret and remorse, wanted to flee from his adorable arms, but he held her tight for sure, to support her, to annihilate her agony, her misery, demanding no explanation.

Struck with utter penitence and ignominy, she started to bawl severely, letting loose her extreme affliction.

“Michael, I deserve to be castigated. For the name of God, let me go. I committed a hellish act. I don’t deserve to be loved so intensely.”

“Maggie, stop. I don’t want to know why you quit your home or walked out of my life. After years of meditation I got you back. We can start afresh. There is time. Let’s go home, let’s forget what went by and welcome a new beginning.”

Margaret was taken aback at Michael’s proposal . She couldn’t escape the thought that the workings of the human heart gives rise to the profoundest mystery of the universe. For a moment, we get despair of our kind, and the very next moment, we see in them a reflection of a divine image. She wanted to talk, to tell him the story of her temptation and betrayal, and the cause of her misery.

“No, Michael, before you take me in, I must tell you the mystery which might have haunted you till this day of the eclipse. Please don’t stop me, my sins will never be redeemed if I don’t reveal the truth.”

“As for forgiveness, I never thought that you ever committed any sin. My only concern was your well being. What grieves me most is to see my beautiful bride in a paroxysm of languish. If you think that the revelation would assuage your soul, go ahead, I lend my ears.”

“I always had high ambitions. I was never content with the salary that you brought home and the life that I was leading. My soaring desire for recognition and wealth, placed me in the loving arms of Edgar, the son of the wealthy businessman, who lived in our locality. He wooed me, flattered me, promised me a grand life, the life that I longed to experience. That particular day, we eloped. He brought me here, saying that they were opening up a new factory of which he was the proprietor. He started to work and we were leading a normal and happy life. Within two years time, we were blessed with a son.

I never knew, till then, there was waiting for me a reversal of fortune. Shortly, after our son’s birth, I realized that Edgar was keeping himself aloof from me. I had asked him several times, but he never revealed. I took it to be a casual factory affair. But gradually, his temperament showed a complete change in is attitude towards us. When one day, his close friend, briefed me of the fact that Edgar’s wife wanted him back and his dad cautioned him against loss of his share of property and deprivation of ownership of the present firm, if he wasn’t ready to take her back. She was the daughter of another renowned industrialist and their marriage was a business deal. Edgar always disliked her because of her haughty insolence. Edgar’s father-in-law threatened to seize their family business for he was trusted with the power of attorney by his dad. We were not married, he couldn’t though. It was a live- together understanding. He straightaway asked me to move out of his life. He neither had any concern for me, nor for our little son. He abused me and confirmed that I brought misery to his life, responsible for his downfall. I had to move out, for he threatened to kill me and my son, if I went against his will.

Penniless, homeless, with a baby at my breast, I had been leading a harsh life, working in factories and cleaning apartments to nurture my son, who is now eight years of age. I realized the fact that the face of a lover is unknown, precisely because it is manifested with so much of oneself, a mystery having the possibilities of torment. I have to pay for my sins, I am bound to suffer. I cant be a burden on your pious soul. How I wish I could have comprehended your feelings, your selfless love for me, your sacrifice... no, I am a sinner. Please go away.”

“My Maggie, every human being is bound to make mistakes, take multifarious decisions which may prove to be erroneous. Life is so full of complexities and imperfections. At times its difficult to resist temptations. But you have worked really hard all these years for the sake of your innocent child. Your sins are paid off. Where is my son? Lets go and see him, Maggie. You don’t need to work now. You’ll illumine my life with mirth. Let’s live happily and bring up our kid with good education and supportive parenting.”

There wasn’t anything left for Margaret to proclaim. She had forsaken a Saint, in pursuit of a Demon. She remembered the lines that she came across in one of the books that she read earlier:

“Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above: For love is heaven, and heaven is love.”

Walter Scott

Life itself is a mysterious journey, an incredible odyssey, neither visible, nor reasoned by mortal senses. In this enthusiastic journey towards the ultimate destination, marriage, a phenomenal occurrence, cannot be held by a chain. It is woven by hundreds of tiny threads which sew a couple together through the years. Even if you fall out of love for one another, wait till the bond keeps you together to fall in again. Its a unison of two mysterious characters which takes a little effort to understand, compromise at times and also, if needs be, a little sacrifice...the mystery will spontaneously be resolved and life will lead to an endless stream of glory.

The addition of the right spices in correct proportions works a delicious and appetizing meal. What is your opinion?

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CELEBRATIONS

2010-11-07T14:18:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 16; the sixteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Nature, at the break of day, all consciousness reveal, the light glorious

Of early dawn, fills the heavens with colours illustrious.

The cool zephyrs diffuse the air with essence sweet

The playful birds hop and sing with a melodious meet.

The Aurora of glistening hues and replenishing fragrance

The magical spell fills the dormant senses with exuberance.

We wake up to the light that conveys to our mind

The gusto to rejoice, the devotedness to worship the Divine.

Keenly awaiting this season of celebration which, finally, has arrived

Whole-hearted gratitude to the Almighty for keeping us alive.

On such a festive occasion...

A venturesome wanderer seeks to explore human glory

This grand hour suits best to set sail on his poor dory.

Visit the joyful celebrators in their jocund fervour

Who leave their doors open with cordial enamour.

A man of fifty, with neither fortune nor fame

Addressed by all as Father, and Father is his name.

A man who celebrates each day of his humble life

He neither has any relation, nor has a wife.

Yet life has catechized him so much to discover

By solely being a kind and efficacious observer.

He wishes to celebrate by visiting his country horde

Share their happiness, or sorrows, from his heart’s core.

He would wander the whole day long

Visiting houses and lanes, while chanting a merry song.

Dressed in white, untarnished, all set for the quest

For he would return with retrospection finest.

The following narration reveals the expedition of our Father

Whether its the bourgeois or the proletariat, it doesn’t matter.

On reaching the shore, he comes across a mansion majestic, dazzling and adorned

The hilarity of laughter within, one to be scorned.

Hesitatingly, he approaches the eccentric class of revellers

“But who has the clock to be hospitable towards travellers?”

A lady, clad in exorbitant silk, advances towards him

Inebriated to the core, sipping Scotch from a crystal rim.

Addresses with unsteady posture and vermilion gaze

“ Hello there grand-dad, the cloth which is wrapped around your waist

Is this the latest , in vogue?

However, with this attire, you resemble a rouge!

Well, come on in and join our feast

You’ll be served with wine and meat.”

Says the baffled Father with a waffling tone:

“A glass of water would quench my thirst

“Its only water that I wish to drink first.”

“Oh, come on grand-dad, you are standing before a celebrity

Follow our gait, and you’ll be treated with dignity.”

“Whom are you talking to, darling?” calls a voice from behind

Comes forward a man with attributes wild.

Wearing a mask of weird shape and colours

The luring eyes protruding through the crafted ventilators.

Meretricious relationships, two sexes indecent

All identities diffused, and no commitment.

Love has ended with the glories of ancient days altogether

The riotous carousers furiously dance to the magical flute of Satyr.

This is the class celebration of the rich and famous

The Father leaves, showering a blessing blasphemous.

He then reaches a house, dark and gloomy

“Where is the shine, where are the lights?” he mutters on seeing a vacant roomy.

On reaching the backyard, he sees an old couple, solitarily seated

Neither song nor dance, speechless faces, plaintively defeated.

He approaches them and asks with a caring tone:

“My friend, what on earth is grieving you on a festive night like this?”

The man, with looks pitiable and eyes doleful, speaks:

“My loving son left us forever in this painful state

Having a ball in a far away land, with wine and date.

This time of the year, we woefully miss him

For we celebrated his birth and our life with him.

His mother sheds tears, for us there is no festival

We will celebrate only on his arrival.

Perhaps his return will be at the call of our funeral.

Years will fly, lights will glow

Darkness from our world will never go.”

On hearing this, the Father’s heart grows heavy and dreadful

He wonders how children can be so ungrateful.

Life is sad, life may be happy

For some reason unknown, people are unhappy.

Some fear God, some worship the Devil

Taking a sad farewell, Father reaches a house on a hill.

The impoverished house is brightly illumined

He is greeted warmly by a couple with smile entwined.

The door is open, the courtyard singing

The table is laid and the floor ringing.

The lively angels are full of mirth and merry-making

They rush immediately, seeing a wayfarer approaching.

“Come home Father,” speaks the wife, “you must be tired of wandering”.

Her husband holds the Father’s hand pleading:

“Please share with us the sweets and beverages”.

At the table, he is soon engaged into a cheerful conversation with the averages.

The broth is good, the bread is good

Not for the spices, but the hand that made the food.

With a heart content, and a tummy surfeited

The Father blesses the family for the way outlanders are greeted.

“Good bye Father, do visit again”, the children speak

On receiving pure hospitality, the Father begins to weep.

The night isn’t over yet, with a will to further rummage

After an hour’s walk, he arrives at a remote village.

Beside a lonely rock, sits a lad of seven

With the look of a saint, eyes towards heaven.

“My boy, what bemoans you during this time of festivity?” asks

Father.

“Are you alone in the world, with no one to care for?”

Anticipating an answer, the father sits beside him, holding tight and as close as could be

The boy, with eyes sparkling, reveals,” Last year, my elder brother was there to care for me.”

“Where is he now? Has he left home because of bread? Or is it a fight that has kept both of you separate?”

“He blesses me from the heaven above

I respond with immeasurable grace and love.

For a deadly explosion, during this time last year

Estranged two loving brothers untimely, forever.

Sitting by this rock, I recollect our memorable days

My mind hovers over the heavenly bodies and milky ways.

He must be resting in his peaceful abode, my heart is void without him

Just cherishing the time we shared and celebrating his memories within”.

With tremendous apprehension, the Father

Sanctifies the life of a cherubim with a holy murmur.

He leaves the meditating soul smiling at the horizon vast

Seeking for a face familiar, out of the clouds moving fast.

On his way, the Father encounters

An approaching class of barbaric drunkards.

They mock him with looks stern and warn him with voices firm:

“What! An old man? At this twilight hour wandering near?

Clear our path, lest your bones perish here.

We are returning from the berth of a prostitute

Its celebration time! Are you a destitute?

Go home and share the pleasure with your mate

Do you prefer to tread this baneful boulevard instead?”

The father moves away out of fear, thus saying

“Fear the Lord, whom you are betraying.

He has blessed you with a life, proper food and costume

He sees your actions and decides your fortune.

He, the Supreme, who enlightens our intellect

Kneel with your hands folded before it’s too late.”

Thus, weary due to the travel and exploration

He decides to return to his ultimate destination.

On his way back, images keep occurring to his mind

For his day has concluded by truly celebrating mankind.

A solitary wanderer in the wild of life, with possession few

Having neither direction, nor any fixed point of view.

Just a gloomy gazer of the world to which he has little relation

Yet he feels every moment to be a moment for celebration.

The vast shores of knowledge that he has accomplished

Finding every small bright pebble to content himself with.

He seeks to celebrate everyone’s uniqueness

Finding an opportunity to celebrate the power, the ability of greatness.

As proud citizens, we devotedly celebrate our country’s endeavour towards global victory

Our strength lies in our unity, an inspiration to combat personal misery.

We rejoice at every festival observed by our nation

The happiness of sharing itself, calls for a celebration.

Our life is an entire universe of blissful celebrating

With every breath of yours, just celebrate your living.

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WATER

2010-10-15T07:37:00.002+05:30

Water – the most precious resource

Water – fundamental to the life force

Can there be any existence without water?
Can you deny the preponderance of water?
Dearth of respect for this elemental matter
A willful neglect of the most powerful source – Water.

पानी रे पानी तेरा रंग कैसा ,जिसमें मिला दो लगे उस जैसा

It may sound strange to many, but the fact is that we are all water creatures. It makes up 60% of our body, 70% of our brain and 80% of our blood. While we can go almost a month without food, our body cannot survive one week without water.
The same water that existed on Earth billions of years ago, still exists today. It covers most of the planet, but just 3% is fresh water; and most of that is ice.
Less than 1% of all fresh water is readily accessible for human use. In other words, less than 0.007% of all the water on Earth is available to drink.
Isn’t it strange to know that a quarter of all the clean water that enters your home is used to flush toilets? One toilet flush uses 3 gallons; a single load of laundry uses 40 gallons; a ten-minute shower uses 50 gallons; brushing with the tap running uses 4 gallons and with the tap off uses 0.25 gallons.
Its an obvious fact that a water crisis is looming. Our water resources are under pressure.
In the 20^th century, the population of the world tripled and the use of water grew six times. By mid-century, there will be an additional growth of three billion people. Most of them will be born in countries already experiencing water shortages.
The Los Angeles basin can support about one million people with its own water. By the year 2020, the population is expected to reach twenty-two million.
El Paso and San Antonio could run out of water in ten to twenty years. Central Florida could run out in less than five. Millions of people in the world live on less than 3 gallons each day. The average American uses about 160 gallons.

Twenty-five million refugees were displaced by contaminated rivers last year. One in three people lack access to adequate sanitation. One in five don’t have access to safe drinking water. According to the UN, a child dies from a water- related disease every fifteen seconds.
The emerging worldwide water shortage is serious. Its been said that we would run out of water before we run out of oil.
Due to over-pumping, the ground water in several countries is almost gone. Depleted aquifers lead to cutbacks in grain harvests, which, in turn, lead to more food shortages and higher prices.
China is already developing large grain deficits. As are India, Pakistan and Egypt. Our water problem is fast becoming a hunger problem.
So, we are all set to face a thirsty world- Industry is thirsty, Agriculture is thirsty, We are thirsty. Its time to give water a second thought.

Use less

Save more

Advocate always

Before our present state of luxury succumbs to the famous lines of Samuel Taylor Coleridge:

“Water, water everywhere

Nor any drop to drink.”

Rime of the Ancient Mariner

...Let us join hands and take a firm step towards water conservation. Our water supplies are not endless. Everyone can play a part- at home, at school, or in the community, to protect and to conserve water, in order to leave behind a bountiful world for the future.

These are a few steps for Water Conservation

We need to conserve water because...

Water conservation is the most cost-effective and environmentally sound way to reduce our demand for water. For example, the city of Los Angeles has grown by 1 million people since the 1970s, but still uses the same amount of water. Using less water also puts less pressure on our sewage treatment facilities, and uses less energy for water heating.

THE WATER AND ENERGY CONNECTION

Saving water also saves energy. 6.5% of the energy used in the state of California is for pumping and treating water--in fact, pumping water south (and uphill) in the State Water Project accounts for 2-3% of all the electricity used in the state. And for your personal energy bill, using less hot water saves on water heating. On the flip side, saving energy and using alternative energy saves water--electricity production from fossil fuels and nuclear energy is responsible for 39% of all freshwater withdrawals in the nation.

Our role in and around the house...

In the Washroom

Ø Put a plastic bottle or a plastic bag weighted with pebbles and filled with water in your toilet tank. Displacing water in this manner allows you to use less water with each flush. Saves 5 to 10 gallons a day. That's up to 300 gallons a month, even more for large families. Better yet, for even greater savings, replace your water-guzzling five to seven gallon a flush toilet with a one and a half gallon, ultra-low flush model.

Ø If you're taking a shower, don't waste cold water while waiting for hot water to reach the showerhead. Catch that water in a container to use on your outside plants or to flush your toilet. Saves 200 to 300 gallons a month.

Ø Check toilet for leaks. Put dye tablets or food coloring into the tank. If color appears in the bowl without flushing, there's a leak that should be repaired. Saves 400 gallons a month.

Ø Turn off the water while brushing your teeth. Saves three gallons each day.

Ø Turn off the water while shaving. Fill the bottom of the sink with a few inches of water to rinse your razor. Saves three gallons each day.

In the Kitchen

Ø If you wash dishes by hand--and that's the best way--don't leave the water running for rinsing. If you have two sinks, fill one with rinse water. If you only have one sink, use a spray device or short blasts instead of letting the water run. Saves 200 to 500 gallons a month.
When washing dishes by hand, use the least amount of detergent possible. This minimizes rinse water needed. Saves 50 to 150 gallons a month.

Ø Keep a bottle of drinking water in the refrigerator. This beats the wasteful habit of running tap water to cool it for drinking. Saves 200 to 300 gallons a month.

Ø Don't defrost frozen foods with running water. Either plan ahead by placing frozen items in the refrigerator overnight or defrost them in the microwave. Saves 50 to 150 gallons a month.

Ø Don't let the faucet run while you clean vegetables. Rinse them in a filled sink or pan. Saves 150 to 250 gallons a month.

Ø Use the garbage disposal less and the garbage more. Saves 50 to 150 gallons a month.

Outside

Ø Put a layer of mulch around trees and plants. A chunk of bark, peat moss or gravel slows down evaporation. Saves 750 to 1,500 gallons a month.

Ø If you have a pool, use a pool cover to cut down on evaporation. It will also keep your pool cleaner and reduce the need to add chemicals. Saves 1,000 gallons a month.

Ø Water during the cool parts of the day. Early morning is better than dusk since it helps preventing the growth of fungus. Saves 300 gallons.

Ø Don't water the lawn on windy days. There's too much evaporation. Can waste up to 300 gallons in one watering.

Ø Cut down watering on cool and overcast days and don't water in the rain. Adjust or deactivate automatic sprinklers. Can save up to 300 gallons each time.

Ø Set lawn mower blades one notch higher. Longer grass means less evaporation. Saves 500 to 1,500 gallons each month.

Ø Have an evaporative air conditioner? Direct the water drain line to a flowerbed, tree base, or lawn.

Ø Drive your car onto a lawn to wash it. Rinse water can help water the grass.

Ø Tell your children not to play with the garden hose. Saves 10 gallons a minute.

Ø If you allow your children to play in the sprinklers, make sure it's only when you're watering the yard--if it's not too cool at that time of day.

Ø When taking your car to a car wash--a good idea for saving water--be sure it's one of the many that recycles its wash water.

Ø Dispose of hazardous materials properly! One quart of oil can contaminate 250,000 gallons of water, effectively eliminating that much water from our water supply. Contact your city or county for proper waste disposal options. And don't flush prescription medications! In the end all I can say :-इस दुनिया में जीने वाले ऐसे भी हैं जीते , रूखी -सूखी खाते हैं और ठंडा पानी पीते

Fable of a Cumbrian Lass

2010-10-02T10:56:00.001+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 15; the fifteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Year 1864

The Lake District in the North Pennines Area abounds in natural beauty and exotic landscapes. The village, on the confluence of South Tyne, is remote and sparsely populated. It is surrounded by some of the highest fells in the Pennine Chain, those which water the great trio of northern rivers, the Tyne, Wear and Tees.

Alston, at an altitude of a thousand feet is said to be the highest market town in

England

. The rugged and diverse land of Alston Moor is rich in mineral wealth and, therefore, the richest lead mining areas have been set up there. A single line stretches from Alston Station in

Cumbria

to Kirkhaugh in Northumberland, carrying passengers who earn their bread from the flourishing mines.

In a small village near the Moor, lived Angela, a divine beauty, a wondrous art of nature, those angelic eyes, luscious lips, golden brown locks and saintly nature- a stark contrast to her impoverished household, having debilitated parents and languid siblings.

A despondent damsel, Angela, on her lonesome way to the fields for routine chores, used to spend some time sitting on the benches of Alston Station, waiting for the steam engine to arrive at sharp seven in the morning.

She observed the swarm of the boisterous mob who came from the neighbouring villages of Blagill and Ayle, to work in the mines.

The cacophony of wheels and unfettered discourses of that particular hour invigorated her dull spirits, illumined her bleak existence. She felt some capacity for hope which provided her with a sense of destination and the energy to get started for the day.

A mid-September morning, the rain had been coming in bits and starts, sometimes it sprinkled, sometimes it showered and at times it thrashed along so thick with a blast of wind. At quarter past seven, after the usual crowd almost vacated the station, Angela rose languorously from her seat to proceed, when suddenly, she collided with a violent rusher, her lunch pack scattering all its belongings.

With annoyance, she looked at the stranger, her eyes meeting his, for the first time. One could hear the roar of thunder in the northern sky, followed by heavy downpour. A very shabby and dirty ruffian, staring at her, a heavenly beauty against scrofulous society. He stood in awe-struck wonder.

The first encounter was like the realization of an imagination that had always haunted her. She felt a kind of inner tranquillity from her succeeding passions. While he was helping her to collect the strewed items from the ground, she felt the touch of his coarse hands, the first ever virile stroke on her delicate soul.

As for him, his mind was set aflame. A winged fairy took him out of his ignominious domain and flew him to the moonlit orchards in an infinitesimal fairy land, to shower upon him amorous propositions to mark an entree into a delightful world of love, which, he was so far, unaware of.

“Hurry up Ellison”, a voice called from behind, “we’re getting late for work. The gate will be shut and we have to spend the day out in the cold, and there is no train down till evening”. It was Jennie, a fellow passenger.

Their reverie was fragmented into pieces. He jerked back to staunch reality, but couldn’t take his eyes off Angela, a look eloquent with compassion. In his twenty-two years, he had never encountered such a celestial beauty.

The rain beat on her head like silver liquid drops.

She, too, wished to hold him back for some time, wanting to speak, but he instantly rushed out of the station.

The mischievous Cupid’s arrow pierced through the hearts of Ellison and Angela. Their insignificant existence made them feel an innate need for redundant love. Their impatience translated itself into an urge for mutual possession.

Arrival of the regular train marked the dawn of a new era. At the station, met daily, the lovable duo, welcoming the thunder and lightning with a sweet exchange of smile, a shy look of hesitance, a pre-meditated approach followed by a blithesome saunter to the workstation.

They passed through the lush green steeps, the cobbled streets, the hidden courtyards and the quaint old shops, with the accompaniment of the melodious note of the moorland birds. Even during his days of rest, he came just to meet her, to be united in the lonesome valleys, amidst the sweet essence of alpine flowers.

Her features were like a poet’s lyrical artistry, which filtered into his mind. The look in her eyes entrapped his desire to be devoured in totality. She could feel the pulse of his allurement and reciprocated with tantamount eagerness. The splendour of the intoxicated touch of lips, the holy fornication of virgin souls, each approach was a unique exploration of mind and body, the absolutely inseparable entities.

The valleys and shores reverberated with the convivial atmosphere at their union - the happiest couple ever, longing to be tied forever in matrimonial sermon. Seeking the blessings of the Almighty, he vowed to marry her in the succeeding year, after the Twelfth Night celebration of Christmas.

The third week of December, the festive fervour was obviously apparent among the villagers. The market place was over-crowded with vibrant multitude. He promised to meet her there, to offer her a Christmas gift, the first Christmas that she ever anticipated to celebrate after nineteen years of her birth. She was overjoyed with enthusiasm and was anxiously waiting for her beloved.

She waited all day, watching the frenzied crowd squandering with excitement. With the fall of evening, despair of the world grew in her again. She became weary with anxiety and fear. The concluding day brought to her mind the unconquerable premonition of an abominable weather.

Unfortunately, Ellison had not arrived. With a heavy heart, she marched homeward, expecting to see him the following day. Six days elapsed in utter disbelief and worriment. Amidst the jubilant masses, she sat alone at a corner, without the sight or sound of beauty, contemplating the mysterious absence of Ellison. There was still no trace of him, nor anyone at the station knew about his whereabouts. She was desperate. Her spirit grew numb with the fear of the unknown. She bitterly sobbed.

It was the seventh day of her consistent presence at the station during the morning rush hours. The usual crowd resumed work after the celebration. Ellison was not to be found anywhere.

A pathetic figure she was, hovering around the platform every day, with the single hope that Ellison would certainly keep his promise. With the lapse of time, her faith in him gradually germinated a powerful resistance to impending jeopardy. As she rose from her seat, she felt two amicable hands firmly gripping her shoulders. She turned around to recognize a familiar face. It was Jennie, Ellison’s friend and co-passenger who worked in the mines. She drew closer to Angela.

With dolorous eyes she gazed at Angela’s intent countenance, stretched her arms to embrace the wretched woman. With a morose and stammering voice she mourned the stupefying tragedy of Ellison’s untimely demise by a fatal accident, just the day preceding their meeting at the marketplace.

The sky was overcast by dark, ‘noctilucent’ clouds. The archfiend seized her blissful world in an instant. Perhaps her meeting with Ellison was just a chimera. She stood still with eyes tumescent, lips parched and gaped. Jennie’s voice jerked her out of trance.

She said that when his incapacitated body was brought to the village, he was breathing his last. He significantly uttered Angela’s name to convey that she must accomplish his last wish.

His death was not the end, but an entry to the empyrean world of immortality. His heavenly abode would be illuminated with her incessant smile. Though they were corporeally disunited, yet his spiritual self was embedded in her being. His everlasting love would be her protective shield forever.

Jennie then lifted a small packet out of a sooty bag. She unfolded the wrap, holding up a glittering metal of gold, a wedding ring, the Christmas gift for Angela.

Having placed the ring on her shivering palm, she kissed Angela’s frosted forehead and reluctantly proceeded towards the mines, leaving behind the crestfallen damsel in petrified quiescence.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Credits
Image - Alston Station by Wandering Soul
Courtesy - www.deviantart.com via www.blogaton.in

THE JOURNEY UNKNOWN...

2010-09-15T01:32:00.003+05:30

Far, beyond the dim horizon, begins the incredible odyssey of the unknown

A thousand-miles to trod, starting with a single step

The mysterious journey...neither visible, nor reasoned by mortal senses

A forlorn path indeed, with Time as the sole companion

A reminder to cherish every moment of the road to destination

Stumbling upon rocks and pebbles, yet the urge to survive

At times the spirit soars in happiness, at times, plummets in misery

Because every twist and turn promises a new Hope

Hoping for a rosy promenade on a velvety green

Relishing the fond memories of the past

Sweetly progressing towards Death, the inevitable

Accepting it as a fulfilment, a culmination for the reunion of lost souls

Only smiling faces, serene lips- no rhetoric, no funeral music, no tears, no regret

Ameliorating every step for the life beyond, which is yet to be explored

For the end promises a new beginning

And the mysterious journey continues...

Inspired by the song of the Hindi film "SAFAR"

ज़िन्दगी का सफ़र है ये कैसा सफ़र ,कोई समझा नहीं कोई जाना नहीं I

है ये कैसी डगर चलते हैं सब मगर, कोई समझा नहीं कोई जाना नहीं II

WAIT

2010-09-07T22:04:00.001+05:30

Love is the most beautiful gift of God which begins with an exchange of smile, blossoms with a kiss and ends with a teardrop. Miles cannot truly separate those who are passionately in love... This is a lover’s Elegy for his beloved who is in a far-away land...

Our childhood was a garden of colour, brightness and morning fragrance

Every play was a concoction of fun, frolic and fight

Days passed in childish glory and we became good friends

Ensuing years cemented our friendship

When one day, in the midst of a festive assemblage

My eyes turned to her elegant looks, her wavy tendrils cascading down the sides of her face and nape, an exquisitely beautiful sight

My eyes were fixed at her, she was aware of her beauty

She returned a blushing countenance, and I realized, for the first time, that I was in love

Our childhood skirmishes changed to adolescent adoration

We earnestly desired one another’s company, desperately longed for the divine embrace to speak our heart out

Every night I would prepare myself to propose, but the next day, seeing her dark and serene eyes, the words would get choked in my throat, I would hesitate and would just keep staring at her; but again, the rehearsal for the next meeting..

But, since three consecutive days, she wasn’t there at all

I grew impatient, anticipating some sickness or trouble, I grew desperate

Then, suddenly, the news reached of her family’s migration to an unknown land

My hopes, desires crashed into imperceptible fragments

They were to leave the very next day. That night was the last, I took a chance...

I waited outside her window just to have a glance of that cherubic smile and those lovely dark eyes, for the last time, perhaps...

On seeing me, she immediately ventured out into the backyard, drops of tears rolled down her smooth, fair cheeks, with a frightened look she held me tight in her arms and whispered to my ears...

I shall wait...

Having said so, immediately rushed back to her chamber, and with a helpless, tearful look, waved me adieu...

Each day I was toiling to make her absence sweet, hoping to meet her ever and anon

Since five long years, she has been dwelling in my reverie

I voyaged from country to country in search of that angelic acquaintance, craving to hear the reverberation of her sob

I know that some day my quest will come to an end and my devotion for her will be reciprocated

But I have still to wait; for I know that my winsome lady is waiting too, waiting in silence...

RETURN

2010-09-04T11:36:00.027+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 14; the fourteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

A mother’s lamentation...

“You came to my life when I was just seventeen

I was a young bride then, delicate and shy

When suddenly, a fatal night dawned upon me

Your father’s corpse was carried to our doorstep

Killed in a political riot ...calamity struck our lives

Our house was devastated by pillagers, your grandparents were shot

I fled for life, for I was carrying another life yet unborn

Endless days of hunger, concealment, my life was draining out

To my rescue, a benevolent passerby took me to a refugee camp

There, in the midst of sorrow and strife, I gave birth to you

A ray of light illumined my bleak spirit

A wonderful boy, my beam of hope, the inspiration of my existence

My youth was devoted to your upbringing

In your pristine eyes, I saw a heart for the poor and needy

I wanted you to grow up to help the destitute and the outcast

For I know the pangs of the homeless, the sufferers of fate

I sought to the fulfilment of my dreams

Alas! My ominous fate was inevitable

Mesmerised by irresistible carnal temptations

You walked away from my life in pursuit of lucre

Left me a geriatric destitute

My desolate bosom wept for you each day over the passing years

My staggering hands wanted to hold you just for once, before the Eternal Silence

To hug you and tell you that your mother loved you a lot...

I am leaving behind not any treasure, but only my blessings.”

This note reached the son when his mother was no more. He was full of remorse and compassion. While she was alive, he never cared to visit her or even post a single letter, never cared to know and understand her. He had been severely ruthless to her. Now there is no means for redemption. She is lying at rest and he is the sinner. At dusk, staring at his mother’s tomb, he takes a vow...

Soliloquy of a son at his mother’s grave...

A good soul cannot be perished by death...

I had been dispassionate, unworthy of your love

Recollections come to my mind of my childhood days

The soft hum of your tune at bed-time

The tender touch of your fingers, the aroma of your falling locks

The smile on your face...

A ruthless son suffered death much before you did, carried away by hollow lust

Killed human instincts within his pious soul

But my tears will not be the response to your death YOUR PROFLIGATE SON RETURNS You’ll live through the hundreds that I’ll serve
I’ll bear your silence in my heart till I fulfil your dreams

I beg for your forgiveness...Let your prayers follow me...”

Hence forth, with sheer determination, he laboured to start a partnership business. Today he is a successful businessman in India. As a tribute to his mother, he is running an Orphanage in a remote village in the eastern district. This ANATHASHRAM is named after her. Perhaps it’s his desperate attempt to achieve salvation...

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Fateful Transition

2010-08-27T23:02:00.001+05:30

The First shower after the summer blaze

The fresh green leaves of spring, accompanied by the essence of bloomers- the harbingers of regeneration and growth

The chirping of the birds at play

The innocent smile of a new-born babe

Such portraits of Nature leaps your heart in ecstasy

You feel proud to be born a Man

And your hands move up to pay homage to the Almighty- the Creator of this beautiful planet

Then a sudden realization of TRUTH, which freezes your body in stark petrification

The agony of the bygone Garden of Eden existence

The doom of human morality and

The emergence of a Beast from a Man

What a pathetic downfall!

Beauty turned to ashes

The azure Heaven above, covered by dark clouds

The miasmatic breath of Nature...

Poverty, Hunger, Thirst, Sorrow, Betrayal, Civil Strife and Bloodshed...

And all this in pursuit of accumulating Wealth and Fame

A fake world created by fake morality

Love conquers all?...True Love?

Parental Love?...Over possessiveness and over expectations produce a handicap child

Fraternal Love?...Brothers are no longer partners in familial commitments, but carry in their pockets a balance to weigh their inherited and accumulated acquisition, and, fight for a larger sum

Friendly Love?...The so-called true friends carry a hidden dagger to stab one another at the next possible opportunity, so envious of each other's progress

Marital Love?...An egoistic battle between two opposite sexes. It begins with a dream-like utopian living and ends in analysing of character traits, rivalry, accusation, involvement of family members to opine- a private matter turned into public entertainment- and then the final blast

Who are the worst sufferers?...the poor ignorant kids...our future, the observers and endurers of extravagant scenarios at home...What is the outcome?...The emergence of a Beast

Such is the productive state of our progress- scientific, technological, and materialistic

It’s the advancement of Modern Civilization...inversely proportional to degeneration of Moral Values

Can we do something about this?...You and I?

For once, dream of the peaceful, the rustic fervour of heavenly life

Of the freshness of Nature

The play of the birds

And, the Smile of Faces

Just compress the fire within

And smile along the path to eternity...

Wish our life would be a Satiated Dream, but, unfortunately, we are the unprivileged martyrs.

रंगीन बहारों की ख्वाहिश रही ,हाथ मगर कुछ आया नहीं

कोई भी हमसफ़र नहीं,खो गयी हर डगर कही

Zindagi Mere Ghar Ana

2010-08-22T19:50:00.003+05:30

This is a light Preface to begin my space...the various hues of Life........

ZINDAGI MERE GHAR AANA…

ZINDAGI… LIFE, which has different colours.

For some people, life is beautiful, for some others, it is ugly, but life itself is a never ending experience of the good, the bad and the ugly...its a spontaneous overflow of contrasting emotions, feelings, experiences and activities.

Being at the merciful hands of destiny, our life cannot be altered, but, to some extent, it can be moulded to a better style.

Whatever you desire, you may not achieve, but there is nothing wrong in expecting and I know, that the best things happen when you least expect them. This is what life is all about and it is in the grip of TIME.

LOVE makes life colourful and at the same time, BLIND LOVE makes it miserable.

SELF RESPECT makes life colourful and at the same time, EGO makes it miserable.

"The more precisely you plan, the harder destiny will hit you."

"Love doesn't require two people to look at each other, but that they look together in the same direction."

I wish you all ----

"AIR TO BREATHE, FIRE TO WARM YOU

WATER TO DRINK; THE EARTH TO LIVE IN."

See you next time; when I will be sharing some colours of day to day episodes; no one to blame, nothing to regret, just a sharing of the facts…