The Indian Storyteller

माना की हम यार नहीं

2017-07-29T09:54:00.000+05:30

जब वो मुझसे अलग हुयी तो मुझे लगता था कि कुछ समय बाद मुझे उसके नाम से कोई फर्क नहीं पड़ेगा। मेरा बाथरूम में रोना, फ़िल्मी गानों में उसको देखना और ऐसे तमाम हज़ार सिम्प्टम जो मेरे बेइन्तेहाँ प्यार में होने की कहानी बयां कर रहे थे - मेरे हिसाब से सब अस्थाई थे। पर आज जब मैं ये लिख रहा हूँ तो उस से मिले हुए सात साल हो चुके है और उफ़, सालों बाद भी कुछ नहीं बदला। वो फेसबुक के फीड में उसकी फ़ोटो को देख कर दिल वैसे ही ठहर जाता है जैसे सात साल पहले होता था। रोमांटिक गानों में आज भी मैं हीरो हूँ और वो ही हिरोइन है। साला गलत टाइम पर पैदा हो गए। व्हाट्सएप्प और फेसबुक के दौड़ में आपके फीड में उसकी फ़ोटो अपने आप आ जाती है। आप हो ही इतने कूल की बाकी आधे आशिक़ और हाफ गर्लफ्रेंड की तरह सोशल नेटवर्किंग साइट पर ब्लॉक नहीं कर सकते क्यूंकि ब्लॉक तो आमच्योर लोग करते है। हम तो भाई , पैदा ही मैच्योर हुए थे। काश उस ज़माने में पैदा होते जब दो पुराने प्रेमी एक दूसरे को कही इत्तेफ़ाक़ से मिलते थे।

मेरी कहानी में उसका नाम नहीं लिखना चाहता हूँ। पर दो घण्टे सोचने के बाद भी कोई और उसके नाम के साथ न्याय नहीं कर पा रहा है। ओम शांति ओम का गाना है ना - " मैं अगर कहूं की तुम सा हसीं, कायनात में नहीं है कोई ", ये गाना उस पर बिलकुल फिट बैठता है। हाँ-हाँ आपकी मैडम पर भी फिट बैठता होगा।

वो लोग सोचते है ना की अगर समय में वापस जाने का मौका मिलता तो कितना कुछ अलग़ करते। मैंने भी रात के अँधेरे में, पंखो को देखते हुए कई बार सोचा है कि मैं अलग क्या करता। जो कुछ भी अलग करने की सोचता हूँ उसमे कुछ ना कुछ फाल्ट ही नज़र आता है। ऐसा लगता है जैसे जो हुआ वही बेस्ट है। शायद कुछ अलग होता तो इतना खूबसूरत नहीं होता।

दुरी का अपना मज़ा है। छोटी छोटी चीज़ों में उसको याद करना। उसके चेहरे के भाव का अनुमान लगाना। अच्छा लगता है जब कोई गाना उसकी याद दिलाता है। मैं अक्सर वो गाने सुनता हूँ जो हम दोनों से जुड़ी है। ये गाने नाव की तरह होती है। वो नाव जो याद रूपी समंदर में चलती है। याद दिलाती है उसके बालो के सुगंध की, उसके शोख आँखों की, आँखों के काजल की और उसकी हँसी। सब मेरे याद में सुरक्षित है।

पता नहीं उसको मेरी याद भी है या नहीं ?

"क्या फर्क पड़ता है।" ऐसा सोच कर हम तो भाई दिल को सांतवना पुरुस्कार देना चाहते है, पर सच तो ये है कि फर्क पड़ता है। मैसेज आया उसका तो वो बटरफ्लाई इन स्टमक वाली कहावत चरितार्थ हो गयी। जवाब देने से पहले भावनाओं के भॅवर में ऐसा फसा की शब्द ही नहीं टाइप हो रहे थे। एक लाइन के रिप्लाई के लिए भी काम से काम २७७ बार लिखा और मिटाया।

जी करता है की बस उसे जा कर देख लूँ , कुछ न बोलूं। शब्द बेमाने होंगे वहाँ , सच तो सिर्फ आँखें ही बोलेंगी। अब आँखों से झूठ बोलवाना कठिन काम है। शायद मैं मुस्कुराऊंगा। शायद वो किसी और के साथ होगी। मुझे डर है की मेरी मुस्कान कोई और न पढ़ ले।

जब वो जा रही होगी, शायद वो एक दफा पलट के मुस्कुराएगी।वो मुस्कान , जिसमे एक गुड बाय होगा, जिसमें अपनी कहानी का सारांश होगा, जो शायद सिर्फ मैं पढ़ पाउँगा।

A day in a life of Gully Cricketer

2017-04-20T18:27:00.000+05:30

The hurt ego

It is 4:30 in the evening. I can hear the stadium roaring with noise. Players are on the ground. Stretching themselves, warming up for the match. It's going to be an important match. The pride of our gully should be intact. Last time, that team from neighbouring colony won and they have mocked me every time they got a chance. Even in the school bus!

But what is the best bowler of our gully doing?

Holding a pencil; pretending to study but alert enough to keep an eye on dear mother. Finally, the long hot summer made my mother blink her eyes longer than she would like to. And whoosh, I am gone with the winds. Look at me! Coming out of my own house like a thief without making any noise else, mother will wake up and the pride of gully would have to wait for some more days to return.

You think it’s easy

Finally, I reach the ground with a serious face only suited to me as a senior player. I am 13. Come on!! I need to guide these 9-year-olds. Poor souls, they dropped too many catches last time and our pride slipped because of that. Look at them, making noise, practicing undertaker's moves while everything is at stake. God! I can't even drop them from the team because of two reasons:

a. These kids will complain to their mother and they will complain to my mother.

b. We need fielders.

I scream at the top of my lungs and everyone can hear me. But they ignore and continue what they are doing. After about 10 minutes of antagonizing wait, the rivals came. There are 10 other matches going simultaneously on the ground.

We have three stumps and one guy walked 22 steps to mark the 22 yards pitch. Yeah yeah, Its always 22 yards this way; doesn't matter if you are 10 years old or 25 years old. Makes sense actually, the 22 yards should be directly proportional to your arm's strength.

Some guys are fighting over bowler's end wicket. There is a small patch of grass in the ground and it was decided the fielder fielding over the grass patch has to volunteer his chappal for the bowler's end wicket.

The show begins

All the 9-year-olds are given 3 easy deliveries and then they are retired hurt. If someone disagrees, we threaten him with a fast bowl and there they are, scared, ready to get retired hurt from batting then actually getting hurt.

One player of the batting team will act as an umpire and believe me, its the hardest job. Its more of a diplomatic post than the actual umpiring. An umpire is expected to foster good relation with opponents as well as increase a run or two in his team's score every now and then. The testing phase of umpiring is when he has to turn a full toss resulting in catch out of a good batsman into a no ball. Well, run out is by default a not out until it's so obvious that your conscience starts pressurising you to give it a runout.

The chaotic state of our Eden Garden

As i said, the field, our beloved Eden Garden, is in a state of chaos. There are too many matches going on. Under 50, under 30, under 20, under 15, under 10; there is a bell curve of the distribution of the age of the players. And there was a time when we did run out by collecting the tennis ball of some other team while the ball of our match was safely outside the boundary.

By the way? What was the boundary? On your right, Can you see that cow dung behind that red shirt guy? In the front side, we have that patch of grass. On left, we have the stumps of the other team playing. Now as we know, there is a virtual circle passing through these three non co-linear lines. We will take a huge compass and keep the center at 11th yard from the stumps on the pitch, we will draw a circle passing through the cow dung, the stumps of other team and the grass patch. And Eureka; we have a boundary. No run behind the wicket. Wicket-keeper is from the batting team.

Chucking. Sorry! What?

At a crucial stage of the game, our bowler is bowling well. He bowls faster and what! The opposition umpire is raising an objection. Umpire says the bowler is chucking. All the fielding players at once run to the umpire and sensing the danger, the batting team players run there too. There is a risk of a fight as we are telling them that everyone chucks here and it was pre-communicated. Jhunna, from the batting team, has chucked and bowled faster than our bowler. We did not object then. Just because they are losing now, they are objecting. What nonsense. Ah, this is a moral victory for sure. The opposition is scared.

The sweet revenge

And we won. Our team is poking fun at them. And the 12 years old senior from their team has come complaining to me about the kids yelling "loser loser". He is the same guy from my school bus. I ask kids to stop calling them loser while I yell, "loser, I asked them to stop calling you by your real name."

Wikipedia

Another brilliant article on gully cricket

Image credit

Arrah - The story of 1857

2017-04-15T15:39:00.000+05:30

बिहार का एक दबंग जिला है - आरा। यूँ तो टशन पूरे बिहार वालो में होता है, पर आरा वालों की बात ही अलग है। "आरा जिला घर बा त कउन बात के डर बा " जैसी प्रसिद्ध नारों के बावजूद आरा वाले काफी कमजोर दिल के है, वरना आप ही बताइये लिपिस्टिक से लगाने से कौन से ज़िले में भूकंप आता है। जी हाँ , मैं बात कर रहा हूँ पवन सिंह के लोकप्रिय गाने "लगवाले तू लिपस्टिक तो हिलेला आरा डिस्ट्रिक्ट की"।

आरा के इतिहास की बात करे तो १८५७ के अंग्रेजो के खिलाफ हुयी भारत के स्वतंत्रता की पहली लड़ाई में आरा का नाम स्वर्णिम अक्षरों में लिखा जाता है। जॉन जेम्स हॉल की १८६० में छपी किताब "टू मंथ्स इन आरा" में इस घटना का विस्तृत वर्णन है। जॉन जेम्स हॉल किताब की शुरुवात एक अंग्रेजी अफसर के दिनचर्या के वर्णन से करते है। वो कहते है की "एक अंग्रेजी अफसर सवेरे उठता है, टहलने जाता है, नास्ता करता है और कचहरी जाता है। कचहरी के बाद बिलियर्ड्स रूम और अपनी पत्नी के साथ टहलने के बाद रात का खाना और एक कप कॉफ़ी के बाद सोना, वो भी अगर आप गर्मी और मच्छर को झेल सको तो"। हॉल आरा का वर्णन कुछ ऐसे करते है - "आम के बागान के बाद एक भव्य मस्जिद आपका स्वागत करती है और उसके बाद शुरू होता है आरा शहर। छोटे छोटे घर, सुन्दर बालकनी काफी अच्छे लगते हैं , पर आस पास की गरीबी और खुले नाले एक दूसरी कहानी बयाँ करती है। एक मील चलने के बाद रास्ता बायीं ओर जाता है जहाँ महाजनों के घर आते है। महाजन धनाढ्य है। ये रास्ता आगे चलने पर एक बाज़ार में तब्दील हो जाता है, जिसकी एक छोर पर जेल है और दूसरी छोर पे जज कोठी। बाजार से थोड़ी दूर पर ही कचहरी है।" वास्तव में आज भी आरा का ढ़ाँचा हॉल के वर्णन जैसा ही है। हॉल के अनुसार सिपाही विद्रोह की ख़बर के साथ ही आरा के अँगरेज़ अफसरों ने अपने बीवी-बच्चो को दानापुर भेज दिया जहॉ अंग्रेज़ो के दसवीं रेजिमेंट पर उनकी सुरक्षा का दायितव था। अँगरेज़ महिलाये और बच्चों को गंगा नदी के रास्ते नाव द्वारा दानापुर भेजा गया। मेरठ, संथाल परगना में विद्रोही सिपाहियों के द्वारा अंग्रेज़ो को जान से मारने की घटनाओं को देख कर ईस्ट इंडिया रेलवे के इंजीनियर बॉयल ने १७ जून १८५७ ने आरा में बिलियर्ड रूम के आगे एक दीवार का निर्माण कराया। ये बिलियर्ड रूम आपात स्तिथि में एक सुरक्षित गढ़ की तरह बना था।नयी दीवार विद्रोही सिपाहियों की गोली झेलने लायक थी और दीवार में बन्दूक रखने के लिए जगह जगह छेद छोड़े गये ताकि अँगरेज़ विद्रोहियों पर गोली चला सके। बॉयल ने उस घर में रासन , पानी और शराब की व्यवस्था कर ली। उसे उम्मीद थी की अंग्रेज़ो को बिलियर्ड्स रूम में कुछ दिन रहना पर सकता है। तब तक दानापुर से ५० सिख सिपाहियों की फौज भी अँगरेज़ अफसरों की मदद के लिए पहुंची जिनका नायक हूकन सिंह बात बात पर "परवाह नहीं" कह कर अंग्रेज़ो को उनकी सुरक्षा का दिलासा देता था। हालाँकि अंग्रेज़ो को सिख सैनिको पर भी संदेह था पर कुछ ही दिनों में उनका संदेह दूर हो गया। २७ जुलाई की सुबह आख़िरकार अँगरेज़ सेना की सातवीं , आठवीं और चालीसवीं रेजिमेंट ने आरा ओर धावा बोल दिया। विद्रोहियों ने अपना सरदार जगदीशपुर के राजपूत ज़मींदार बाबू वीर कुंवर सिंह को घोषित किया। विद्रोहियों ने आरा के सरकारी ख़ज़ाने को लूटा और जेल में बंद तमाम बंदियों को आज़ाद करा दिया। अँगरेज़ अफसरों को उम्मीद थी कि दानापुर से अँगरेज़ फौज २ दिनों के भीतर उनकी मदद को आ जाएगी।जब २ दिनों तक अँगरेज़ फौज नहीं पहुंची तो बिलियर्ड्स रूम के अंदर पानी की कमी होने लगी। ये देखते हुए महज ५ घंटे के भीतर सिख फौज ने १२ फ़ीट गहरी कुआँ खोद डाली। इधर पटना से अंग्रेज़ो की पहली फौज जो आरा में मदद के लिए आयी, उसे विद्रोही सिपाहियों ने आम के घने बाग़ में घात लगा कर हमला किया और वापस जाने पर मजबूर कर दिया। आखिरकार अंग्रेज़ो ने विन्सेंट आयर के नेतृत्व में ३० जुलाई १८५७ को आरा पर हमला किया और बिलियर्ड्स रूम में बंद अँगरेज़ अफसरों को छुड़ाया। बाबू वीर कुंवर सिंह जो विद्रोहियों के सरदार थे; वो ८० वर्ष के थे। इस उम्र में भी उन्होंने आरा की लड़ाई के बाद पीछे मुड़ कर नहीं देखा। उन्होंने आरा के बाद लखनऊ में नाना साहेब के साथ मिलकर १८५८ में आजमगढ़ पर कब्ज़ा किया। बाबू वीर कुंवर सिंह के बारे में कहा जाता है की उन्होंने ब्रिगेडियर डगलस की गोली लगने के बाद अपने हाथ को अपनी ही तलवार से काट कर गंगा को समर्पित कर दिया। ८० साल की उम्र में ऐसा हौंसला कम ही देखने को मिलता हैं। आज भी वो बिलियर्ड हाउस आरा में उपस्तिथ है और अपने जीर्णोद्धार की बाट जोह रहा है। हालाँकि सरकार ने बिलियर्ड हाउस को बाबू वीर कुंवर सिंह संग्रहालय घोषित किया है पर वहाँ देखने के लिए शायद ही कुछ है।

बिलियर्ड रूम

आज आरा की पहचान यहाँ के युवा है। आप इस जिले के किसी कोने में चले जाइये।सुबह सुबह सेना/पुलिस भर्ती के लिए दौड़ते लड़के मिल जायेंगे। सरकारी नौकरी का यहाँ चस्का है। बैंक / रेलवे / सचिवालय की नौकरी के लिए तैयारी करते लड़के/लड़की आपको ट्यूशन जाते दिख जायेंगे। बहुराष्ट्रीय कंपनियों की नौकरी में फर्राटेदार अंग्रेजी की जरूरत को देखते हुए शहर में अंग्रेजी स्कूलों की बाढ़ आ गयी है जहाँ उनके नाम के सिवा कुछ भी अंग्रेजी नहीं होता और अभिवावकों से अनाप शनाप पैसे वसूले जाते है। स्टेशन से गोपाली चौक जाने पर आपको हज़ारो कोचिंग सेंटर के बैनर लगे मिलेंगे जो आपको आई आई टी से लेकर बैंक पी.ओ तक बनाने का दावा करते है। भोजपुरी आरा की जान है। भोजपुरी सिनेमा के पोस्टर राह चलते आपको दिखेंगे। नुक्कड़ों पर पवन सिंह के गाना सुनेंगे। आस पास के गाओं की जनता बाजार करने आरा आती है। आरा के बाजार आपको दिन में लोगो से ठसाठस भरे मिलेंगे। रोड की चौड़ाई १८५७ के बाद से शायद ही बदली है और जनसँख्या उसे से कई गुणा अधिक। अगर चेन्नई में आपको इडली - डोसा, दिल्ली में आलू पराठा और कोटा में पोहा जलेबी के ठेले राह चलते दिख जाते है तो आरा में लिट्टी चोखा बिकते दिखेंगे। और अगर आप मीठे खाने के शौक़ीन है तो आरा का खुरमा काफी प्रसिद्ध है।

लिट्टी चोखा

You can read the original book Two months at Arrah by clicking here.
Further reading: click here.

Gaja - The Bangalore traffic diary

2017-04-12T01:24:00.001+05:30

Gaja.

Do you know Gaja?

I doubt you do. Gaja is a rebel. He stands for everything that is not socially accepted. Don't believe me? Tell me who negotiates with the car driver in the Bangalore traffic jam and asks him to pull back his car by 15 mm so that Gaja could guide his bike in that narrow space. And where does that narrow space lead to? It goes to the left most edge of the road where he can diligently glide through between the feet-tall footpath and the column of cars. Gaja doesn't have a helmet. His bike has bruises, possibly it has encountered other Gajas over time. His bike is a slave. It's dolled up with cheap decorations. Take the tail lamp, for instance, it has a black sheet covering with "GAJA" cut out in Calibri. It has Mahesh Babu's picture on the front mud guard. But these decorations fail to hide the cuts and scratches. The graphics of TVS are sliced possibly with some rogue truck's dangling parts. One can only guess.

Gaja is not reckless. He is careful to wear shoes. Once an auto drove over his toe, and mind you, the auto driver turned back, realized his mistake, spit a cough on the road and apologized in the most unapologetic voice ever. Gaja forgave him. Gaja has heart of gold. He knows such things happen on a crowded road. That's just the part of life. That auto driver shares the same traffic cutting attitude as Gaja does. Everything is fair in traffic and on road.

This traffic cutting skill has more takers than engineers in India.

"We have enough of them", told a startup founder sipping tea and hiding his cigarette from the police car, when asked about hiring engineers.

"The real MVPs are the traffic cutters. The whole food delivery industry relies on this. Oh! And Gaja, he is an asset. He had more people bidding to hire him than Ishant Sharma in IPL auction", he further delved into the topic.

Meanwhile, the Police has deployed their speed interceptor vans to record the speed of Gaja.

"We are tired of catching speed violators and people riding pillion without helmet.", a traffic cop was quoted.

"Our job is very monotonous. Everyday is the same. We don't have exciting work culture here. Amidst this, Gaja is a fresh, happy change. We want to add Gaja's name to Limca book of records for maximum speed in Bangalore traffic", he further added.

The traffic light was still red but Gaja; he was not stopping or stick to check his phone or look for the hoardings that say you need just Rs. 6999 to get into your boss's shoes. Well, My boss wears 200 bucks Bata slipper. Bitch Please. Gaja is speeding. He is at his destination. The traffic light is yet to get green.

Oh, Gaja. You beauty.

कुंजिका - धैर्य

2017-04-09T00:39:00.002+05:30

हालिया संपन्न हुई भारत बनाम ऑस्ट्रेलिया श्रृंखला के तीसरे टेस्ट में चेतश्वर पुजारा ने अपनी पारी में ५२५ गेंदे खेली। ऐसी लम्बी पारी खेलना कतई आसान काम नहीं है। गेंदबाज़ की बस एक गेंद पर आपको गलती करनी है और हो गये आऊट। मैदान की क्षेत्ररक्षण रणनीति देख कर अनुमान लगाना की गेंदबाज़ कहाँ गेंद डालेगा, टप्पा खाने के बाद गेंद को पढ़ना की ये बहार की ओर जाएगी या अंदर, सीधी रहेगी या उछलेगी; इसके बाद गेंद के साथ समुचित न्याय करना एक चुनौतीपूर्ण कार्य है। और फ़र्ज़ कीजिये की आप ये १६ घंटे करेंगे , गेंद दर गेंद ५०० से ज्यादा गेंदों तक। क्या एकाग्रता चाहिए होगी ऐसी बल्लेबाजी के लिए। गली क्रिकेट में हम ३ गेंद बिना रन के जाने पर उतावले हो जाते हैं , वही पुजारा ने १६ घंटे अनुशासन बनाये रखा। अदभुत।

क्या हम पुजारा से अच्छी तरह जीने की कला सीख सकते है ?

क्या हम रोजमर्रा की जिंदगी को धैर्य और परिस्थी के अनुसार नहीं जी सकते ?

आज का ज़माना प्रतिस्पर्द्घा का है। कंपनीयां अपने कर्मचारीयों को तयशुदा मानदंडों पर नापती है। ये प्रक्रिया कुछ ऐसी
है कि हर कोई एक जैसी रेटिंग नहीं पा सकता। कोई दो मनुष्य एक से नहीं हो सकते , आखिर मनुष्य कोई फैक्ट्री से उत्पादित वस्तु तो है नहीं। ऐसे में सभी को एक से मानदंड में नापना एक गलत प्रक्रिया है। ये कॉर्पोरेट लीडर्स के लिए एक विमर्श की वस्तु है।
हर व्यक्ति को काम उसकी शक्तियों और को ध्यान में रखते हुए देना चाहिए।कर्मचारियों के बीच प्रतिस्पर्धा ने कंपनियों को आगे जरूर बढ़ाया लेकिन एक बड़े मूल्य पर। आज अवसाद और तनाव महामारी की तरह फैल रही है।कम समय में ज्यादा
पाने की चाह ने ऑफिस को और घर को एक सा कर दिया है। आप घर में हो या ऑफिस में, आपके दिमाग में काम ही चल रहा होता है। इतना ही नहीं, प्रतिस्पर्धा ने नकारात्मक सोच को भी बढ़ावा दिया है। एक दूसरे की बुराई हमारे दिमाग कि रचनात्मक क्षमता को कम कर रही है। एसोचैम की एक रिपोर्ट के अनुसार भारत के ४० प्रतिशत कॉर्पोरेट कर्मचारी मानसिक अवसाद के शिकार है। क्या ये बात चिंतनीय नहीं है ? हम किस तरह भारत को आगे बढ़ाएंगे अगर हमारे कर्मचारी ही १०० फीसदी स्वस्थ नहीं होंगे ?

ऐसे मौको पर मुझे पुजारा की पारी की याद आती है। हमारा जीवन एक टेस्ट मैच की तरह है और हर दिन गेंद की तरह। हमें पुजारा की तरह धैर्य और आत्मविश्वास रखना होगा। कोई दिन बुरा होगा और उस दिन हमें सर झुका कर गेंद को विकेट कीपर के पास जाने देना होगा। हो सकता है पूरा ओवर की सभी गेंदे बुरी आएं, उन मौकों पर हमें याद रखना होगा कि आगे अच्छे दिन आएंगे। जब भी अच्छे दिन आये तो हमें रन मिलेंगे। बस विकेट पर टिक कर खेलना होगा।

God is a Gamer - Ravi Subhramanian

2016-12-28T18:27:00.000+05:30

God is a gamer

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I read “If God was a Banker” around 7 years ago. “If God was a Banker” is the first book by Ravi Subhramanian. As is the case with the first books, “If God was a Banker” drew heavily from the experience of Ravi Subhramanian as top banker and his education at IIM Bangalore. It is a story of two ambitious guys; Swami and Sundeep, and their different ways to reach up the ladder.

The most fascinating thing to me about the 2014 released “God is a Gamer”, is that it starts from where I left Ravi in his last book that I read. Swami and Sundeep continued in “God is a Gamer” from “If God was a Banker” with seamless assimilation. Both the characters with respect to their personal or professional life matures coherently.

The book is interesting and you cant stop yourself from turning pages till it is finished. I picked up the “God is a Gamer” day before yesterday. 36 hours later I have finished the book and writing its review. This is a fair proof of my statement. The book has multiple threads of events which are interlinked to give us a nice finished product.

There is Malviya, CEO of Indian business of a multi national bank and her daughter Tanya. There is Swami who heads the retail branch of the same bank. We have Aditya and Sundeep who are founders of a famous BPO and a gaming company. We also have an American senator who is close to The President of the United States. One of these characters is murdered and that starts a global investigation which fails to unearth the real motive of the gigantic conspiracy. The story is full of references to the present day headlines like a politician linked to the murder(no prize for guessing who?), phishing to hack bank account, laptop blasts, the confession blogs and the bitcoins.

The story has its back bone based on the concept of the dark web and it has tried to cash in the urban legends surrounding it.

“Is revenge crime?

So says the tagline of the book. The tagline indicates that the story is meant for revenge. The climax could have been better. As the crime for which revenge is sought involves just one man and the revenge spans people who are not remotely connected to the crime.

Well, To conclude, You would love the book if you are a thriller fan. Read this book if you are conspiracy enthusiast

द्वन्द

2016-12-11T22:26:00.003+05:30

सुनो ना, सुनो ना,
जैसा था कल,
वैसा ही तो है आज,
फिर क्या नया है तुम में ।

ये मैं हूँ जो बेचैन ,
ये जो लगी है घुडदौड़ ,
क्यूँ मैं भाग रहा हूँ,
और तुम हो स्थिर ।

कहाँ हूँ मैं, कहाँ हो तुम,
ये दुनिया अलग तो नहीं,
ये रास्ता भूलभुलैया तो नहीं,
कहाँ है अंत, कहाँ हैं हम ।

ना खिलौनेवाली कार,
ना चाय का कप,
ना तुम्हारी नैसर्गिक हँसी ,
कहाँ है मेरी ख़ुशी ।

कहाँ जाना है,
जब गंतव्य का पता नहीं,
तो अंत की आकांक्षा कैसी,
कौन बताएगा जाना है कहाँ ।

क्या है ये सिर्फ कल की लड़ाई,
क्या है ये सिर्फ स्थिरता की चाह,
क्या है ये सिर्फ खुशियों की चाह,
ये द्वन्द, ये मन का भार।

सुनो ना, सुनो ना,
चलो अपना लेते हैं द्वन्द को,
चलो ढूंढते हैं द्वन्द का अंत,
शायद वही हो इस सफर का अंत।

द्वन्द

Goodbye

2016-02-07T11:44:00.001+05:30

It happens all the time. At railway stations, at airports, at bus stations...everywhere.

Raghav searched for the car keys in his pockets. He opened the arched gate and latched it as silently as he could lest the sleeping watchman finds him sheepishly. The gate of the house was far from the place where the car was parked, yet he was finding it difficult to prolong his departure. He sat in the car, rolled down the window and looked at the balcony of the house she lived.

Who is she?

Doesn't matter for us.

There was no one at balcony. Did he expected her to be watching him? Did he expect her to smile graciously and wave while he drive himself away? It would have been better. Why do people come to say Goodbye at station? Train stops for just two minutes. You can't talk much in two minutes. You have just enough time to say Goodbye.

Raghav looked at the balcony one more time. Still no one. He checked his phone in case she left him a message.

Nothing.

A sea of grief was coming to Raghav. He didn't want to get drowned in that sea before her house. The car danced down the street in a low hum like a villain smiling over lover's separation. As if by intuition, Raghav looked in mirror and found the balcony empty again.

It was 6 AM. The roads that looked miserable and sorry during the rush hours were smiling now. Cold wind ruffled his hair.

"Some Goodbyes are tough. Because they are precious. Like a diamond. Diamond is precious because it is rare. But why Goodbye? Can't you meet again? Perhaps not. Not in the same aroma, not in the same serenity. Not in the same love. Not in the same selflessness. Not in the same humor. And definitely not in same innocence.", Raghav's was playing Q&A with himself.

"How does it feel?", Asked one Raghav to another.

"Like you have left something behind that you can't bring back. The pain is beautiful. The sorrow is enjoyable. And the memories memorable.", replied one Raghav to another.

"Will you remember?" Another question.

"Yes. I will. Not just remember. I will smile while remembering. I will cherish when life will be struggle. I will live. "

A sudden flash interrupted the conversation between two Raghavs.

The morning sun was at its full beauty. The water of lake was reflecting it to charm the passerby who were oblivious to the beauty around. Mostly everyone is. They like something that they don't have. Sunrise in Arunachal Pradesh is in bucket list when we have not witnessed the sunrise at our terrace in years.

Raghav stooped the car. He looked at water.

The radio in car was playing, "मैं जिंदगी का साथ निभाता चला गया, हर फिक्र को धुएं में उडाता चला गया"

She gathered all her courage. A Goodbye is necessary, how much ever painful it may be. The meeting remains incomplete without it. She walked down to balcony. She saw his car leaving her house lane. She waved him.

There was a Goodbye.

Only that two people never knew about it.

The Blooming Oleander

2015-09-17T13:18:00.003+05:30

Close to the city of Paithan, in a small village called Sauviragram, which lay along the banks of the great river Godavari, lived a woman named Ilaa. Being cotton farmers, her family was well to do, but not among the richest in their area. It was the harvest season, and cotton had to be picked from the plants. The wholesalers and traders from Paithan would be arriving in just a few weeks, carrying gold and goods for barter. They would exchange what they carried for the cotton that the farmers grew. The bales of cotton had to be ready in time! Work was at its peak!

But Ilaa was not to be found in the fields. She wasn't working. Instead, she was sitting by the banks of the great river Godavari.

'I am sick of this!' she grunted loudly. Her thoughts were still lost in the conversation that she overheard last night. Two strangers had sought help to spend a night at her house. Illaa’s brother was more than happy to welcome the guests. Illaa’s father was well known herbal practitioner of Marathawada. His fame shot up after he was rumored to cure Shivaji Maharaja’s deep abdomen cut after Battle of Kolahapur which stamped the authority of Maratha rule in Deccan and alarmed the Mughal King Aurangazeb. Illaa had prepared the pooran poli, a sweet wheat bread popular in the region, which she learnt from her grandmother. While she was serving food to the strangers, one of them asked her in deep husky voice that commanded respect, “Are you doctor’s daughter?”

She nodded in affirmative. They looked at one another and smiled. Then they continued their discussion. That was when she heard them talking about Mughal king Aurangzeb’s policy of destruction of temples. She had already known this. Everybody was talking about it. Many of the village’s men had served the Maratha army. When they returned, they talked about the destruction they saw. One of the village men, Pranavrao Nalawde had served under Hambirao Mohite when Marathas defeated Mughals at Battle of Patadi.

Fighting Aurangazeb

The day before, while picking cotton from plants, Pranavrao’s wife Sanskriti told Illaa about her husband’s experiences. She told her how Aurangzeb had demolished the temple of Kalkaji at Delhi and changed the name of Mathura to Islamabad. She went on to narrate to Illaa the story that her husband had told her about the priest of Govardhan who saved the idol of Srinathji from the barbarian Aurangazeb. Maharana Raj Singh had promised the priest that Aurangazeb could touch the idol only after he would kill one lakh brave Rajputs of Mewar.

But what those strangers were talking about was more disturbing to Illaa. They were discussing that Aurangazeb was coming to Deccan to crush the Maratha uprising and he had ordered to demolish all the temples in his way. The two strangers were particularly worried about Paithan. They were talking about protection of Kawale priest who were appointed by Shivaji as royal priest of Marathas. Illaa shuddered with the thought of demolishing Paithan’s tirtha. Aurangazab was mighty and haughty. They say power comes with responsibility but not in Mughal King’s case, she thought.

“Illaa..Illlaaa”, a loud voice called.

Startled, she looked around. Sanskriti was calling her. She was walking towards her with Pranavrao by her side and four cows that they owned. Illaa was so engrossed in her thought that she lost track of time. It was already evening. The fierce bright sun had given way to a comforting pale sun. The bank of river was filled with people taking dip in Godavari and praying Sun God. Children were throwing stones in water and counting number of splashes made.

Godavari

Sanskriti came and held her from behind while Pranavrao was managing the cows.

“Illaa, I am going to meet my mother. Pranavrao is accompanying me”, Sanskriti told Illaa with a voice full of ecstasy.

“Is everything all right? Till yesterday, you did not have any plan to visit your mother”, Illaa asked surprised.

“Aree!!! Paithan has a big fare starting today. Pranavrao suggested going there and you know my mother’s village is only 5 kms more from Paithan. So, I thought I would visit them as well”, Sanskriti replied.

Sanskriti was delighted. She was even making animated hand movements and humming a folk song that talked about aimless wander of two lovers.

“Who knows what you two lovebirds are up to? Planning to make me aunt?” Illaa teased her friend.

“Leave your rubbish and help us make you aunt by taking care of our cows for two days. We will be back by then.” Sanskriti said, unperturbed by Illaa’s joke.

“Ok! Why don’t we walk to my house? You tie your cows there. Anyways I have to carry some water. We have guests at home. I brought water in the morning but that was not enough.”, Illaa spoke while standing from the rock.

Illaa looked at the cows and nodded towards Pranavrao in respect. Pranavrao nodded and pushed the cows to make them move, since the cows had started feeding on the grass. While on the way, Sanskriti was talking to Illaa about her sister’s pregnancy, Illaa was lost somewhere else. Her thought was still at Aurangazeb and his hatred towards Hindus. She was getting more furious as she thought about the wicked King. If only she were a man, she would have fought with Sambhaji Maharaj and taught the barbarian a lesson. They reached Illaa’s home. She led Pranavrao to the place where her own cows were tied. Somewhere there, Pranavrao was startled and left the control of his cows. His eyes were fixed at the corner of room where the strangers had kept their belongings. Illaa panicked. She thought Pranavraao had a stroke. She held his hand and started shaking him vigorously. Some seconds later, he got control of his body. He pointed at a stack of clothes in the corner.

He asked Illaa, “Whose belongings are these?”

“Two strangers. But what happened to you? Why are you shaking?”, Illaa replied hurriedly.

Illaa had heard about soldiers getting bad dreams due to constant exposure to extreme violence. She thought may be Pranavrao was affected by the disturbing images of war.

Suddenly she saw Pranavrao sitting on his knees and praying towards the belongings kept in the corner. She was unable to understand anything that was happening at that moment.

“What is it? What are you praying?”Illaa asked. She looked confused.

“Do you see that?” Pranavrao replied. Still, in the same serious tone.

“You are not seeing what I am seeing”, replied Pranavrao.

“Don’t play more riddles. Just tell me what it is. This is confusing.”, replied irritated Illaa.

Pranavrao stood up, and walked till the stack of clothes. Behind the stack, there was fodder for cattle and amidst that, something was shining, a metal perhaps.

Pranavrao cleaned the fodder around it and the shiny metal turned out to be a sword. The pommel of the sword was stamped with a flying flag in shape of a rectangle and a triangle cut out from the front side. Further there was stamp of Goddess Bhawani. The flag was royal Maratha symbol and was stamped on all swords carried by Maratha royals. But the symbol of Goddess Bhawani was stamped on only one sword, Bhawani Talwar, the sword of mighty Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. Pranavrao explained this to Illaa.

Illaa hastily asked, “Does this mean that the two strangers are from Maratha royal family?”

“Not just Maratha royal family, one of the strangers that you are talking about must be Sambhaji Maharaj. You must not tell anyone about them. They must be on some secret mission”, Pranavrao remarked.

Pranavrao tied his cows and sent Sanskriti home. Then he and Illaa went to the room where the two strangers were sleeping. Pranavrao instantly recognized commander in chief of Maratha Army, Hambirao Mohite and sat near his feet. Illaa sat near Sambhaji’s feet and looked at him with reverence.

A little while later, Sambhaji got up and saw Illaa and Pranavrao standing with folded hands. As he realized that he had been recognized. Sambhaji said, “Your father has served my father well. If it had not been for your father, Shivaji could not have achieved what he did. I am because he was. I want to thank your family for your service.”

“Take me with you, I want to kill Aurangazeb. No more Hindu temples should be destroyed”, Illaa instantly said.

“If you are determined, you will find a way”, Sambhaji said and asked his Senapati to get ready to move.

Years passed by and Sambhaji was killed by Aurangazeb. He did not yield to the torture by Aurangazeb who was forcing him to convert to Islam and earned the title of ‘Dharmveer’.

The mighty Sambhaji

Illaa used to remember him and curse herself that the barbarian Aurangzeb is still alive. Every day she prayed to Dharmveer Sambhaji Maharaj along with her family deity.

One day while she went to fetch water from Godavari, she saw a grand arrangement being made on the other side of the river. There were thousands of people preparing camps. She enquired with the nearby people. They told her that Mughal king Aurangazeb's camp was getting prepared. They told that the camp was more than 30 miles in radius with thousands of camels and elephants. There were about 250 bazaars in the camp.

Illa was uneasy that night. Sleep was far from her eyes. Words of Sambhaji Maharaj were echoing in her ears.

“If you are determined, you will find a way”

Is this her chance? What can she do? Her mind was calculating all the options that she had. She remembered the great Vedic philosopher, Gargi Vachaknavi who said that nobody is beyond time and space. Even the mighty fell after some time.

She made up her mind. This was her chance. Next day, She bought a burqa and walked to the camp that was getting set up to welcome the Mughal king. At one place she saw people setting up a place to eat. She introduced herself as mute Muslim from Burhanpur as she was afraid that they might suspect her religion listening to her dialect. She told them that Burhanpur was attacked by Marathas and they ransacked everything. She had no place to go and nothing to eat. She offered her services to the camp and sought refuge there. Mughals agreed and asked what she was good at. Illaa used sign language to convey that she was good at cooking. She started making local dishes there and was soon famous in all Aurangazeb’s camp for her culinary skills. Words of appreciation reached Auranagazeb who wrote a decree to induct Illaa into royal chefs. Illa was very happy with her promotion and made a pulan poli with mashed oleander leaves.

the oleander

Few days later, Aurangazeb fell sick with severe diarrhea and he died with abnormal heart beat and diarrhea. As the news of Aurangazeb’s death reached Illa, she thanked Ganpati and remembered her father who was tortured to death by Aurangazeb’s commanders to know the location of Shivaji thirty years back. She looked at the oleander plant, outside the window. Her father stopped her from eating those oleander leaves as a child and explained how dangerous those leaves can be. “The oleander leaves act as slow poison”, He explained. She had seen the effect on one of the most powerful men on the earth – Aurangazeb.

Illaa killed Aurangazeb.

She looked at the little charcoal tablets tied in her dupatta. As a cook, she had to taste those pulan poli before the food is served to the Emperor. These tablets were her savior. Her father had also explained the antidote of Oleander poisoning. Charcoals are good adsorbent. Oleander leaves adsorbs on the charcoal adsorbent. She vomited and all poison was out. She smiled as she wore the burqa. Ironically, she was going to mourn the death of Emperor on the happiest day of her life.

Illaa did what many men could not.

Wriiten for TOI contest.

Picture Credits:

www.agniveerfan.wordpress.com

www.bharatabharati.wordpress.com

www.ciniclips.blogspot.com

datab.us

A tiny drop

2015-08-03T23:39:00.000+05:30

A tiny lone drop falls on windshield.

Allured by gravity, the drop starts trickling down. The child in me could not resist the temptation
to trace the path of the drop. Slowly I am about to catch the running drop when one another drop fell.

Some more follow.

It starts raining. Wipers get work. They have not worked in last few months. Long summer, Rain
is most welcome. Opposite to what normally people do, I roll down my window glass. These days Cars
come with power window. Press a button and done. I remember my childhood, rolling down glass in the good old Ambassdor was a work and a 6 year old child, like me, loved this responsibility.

Window is down. Strong breeze greets me.

My hair is fighting a lost war against mighty wind. Actually, I am not at all worried about my hairstyle. It's liberating. Somehow this hair reminds me of my train journey when I used to cry for the window seats. My hair is used to fight the wind since then.I start singing the bengali-hindi song which depicts journey, "kasto Maza hai raile ma". I extend my palm and feel the rain drops.

I tune in radio.

They are playing old hindi songs.

"Gaata rahe mera dil, tu hi meri manzil".

Travel. You will find many pages from childhood waiting to be revisited.

अँधेरी रात का चाँद

2015-02-27T23:53:00.003+05:30

अँधेरे से भी अँधेरी रात का चाँद ,

डरते हुए तारों से फुसफुसाया,

वो काले बादल मुझे ढक लेंगे क्या ?

चाँद, ना डर तू बादल से,
बादल तो आएंगे जायेंगे,

कुछ पल तुम्हे छुपाएंगे।

चन्दा रे, छिप जा थोड़ी देर बादल में,

लोग तुम्हे बुलाएँगे, मनाएंगे,

तेरी याद में कहानियाँ सुनाएंगे।

बादल के झुरमुट में,

धरती के लोग तुझे ढूढेंगे,

देखते ही तुझे आई-पाइस और धप्पा बोलेंगे।

बादल तो आएंगे जायेंगे,

धन्यवाद कर तू बादल का, क्यूंकि वो,

लोगों को तेरी याद दिलाएंगे।

image source: http://blog.thomaslaupstad.com/2008/10/18/picture-of-moon-rising-over-treetops-and-shining-clouds-in-southern-norway/

एक खूबसूरत कविता : http://universeinaglassjar.blogspot.in/2014/12/blog-post.html

कभी जो

2015-02-25T20:36:00.004+05:30

कभी जो ऐसा हो,

स्टेशन के कोलाहल में,

तुम सामने खड़े हो।

लजाते, शरमाते और डरते,

मैं जो तुमसे पूछूं,

बताओ ज़रा "कैसी हो ?"

अचंभित जो तुम मुझे देखो,

भीड़ में खोयी तुम,

गलती से ना कह देना "कौन हो तुम ?"

शब्द पड़ेंगे कम,

पढ़ना न तुम आखों को,
चाहूंगा जो मैं सब छुपाना

कालचक्र का पहिया घूमेगा,

खो न जाऊँ उन में मैं,

कह देना,"जाना होगा, ट्रेन आ गयी"

Weird Ideas - I

2015-02-22T22:31:00.002+05:30

I was walking to my home. The loudspeaker at the mosque crackled and the familiar voice of the muazzin called for the prayer. The long Arabic diction was in progress when the bell of the nearby temple rang. The sound of the bell was adding music to the ongoing muazzin's call. I love the diversity of my country. This was yet another day of my life. At that time of the day, I generally fight the existential crisis everyday. Like Edward Norton feels in his every second movie.

Well, Almost everyday. They told me things come to me easily. That's why I am not able to appreciate their value. Oh wait, what if things don't come to me easily? What if I have to fight for it? What if I get things come to me after several futile attempts? Will I feel existing with a purpose in the world? Good going Edward; Think more.

The day was Saturday, the day of Lord Hanuman. That explained the long queue at temple. People come to God when they have to ask for something, then they come back to thank. Sometimes people come for no reasons. I wonder what Lord Hanuman thinks of us. Does he appreciate our visit to him without purpose? It's tough being a God these days. So many people, So many wishes. I too had a wish. It was secret. I had not really talked to God about it. More because I thought It was not the correct time than being lazy. It would take time or so I thought. My wishes are not really simple. One of my friends had a checklist of the wishes. You know the things to do before I turn 25 types. Good that she had not posted it on Facebook, otherwise scoopwhoop guys would have come up with an article.

There is this romanticism related to village. Huge home, huge garden, huge veranda and a nice silence as a company. This is just romanticism. Living in a village never pays well. Can I live without the free flowing money? See, that's why I did not talk to the God. It would take time. I think the other people have better things to talk. I should not really waste God's time. There are people with real trouble waiting for God to act on.

(planning to write more ;)

angrezi paper; Nandan, Champak and Nanhe Samrat

2015-01-23T23:36:00.003+05:30

One big event of my childhood was train journey. And long journey was more appreciated. We used to visit our native village during our summer vacation. We were more excited for train journey than visiting the village. Typical train journey in my childhood would start with buying a hindi kid's magazine for me. And this made an image of my mind that one buys books/magazines only during travel to kill time. There were plenty of them; Nandan, Champak, Nanhe Samrat were most popular ones. Each one has a particular class of stories. You can listen to a story from any book and you can guess without much difficulty weather the story is from Champak, Nandan or Nanhe Samrat. It was easy. If the story has animal characters, It must be from Champak. choo choo chuha, Jambo Haathi, Sher Singh, Chatur Chita were present in almost all stories. Champak had nice cartoons. It was colorful and attractive though stories were short. I used to complete it soon. If the story has characters from ancient India like King, Queen, Sultan; you better guess the source as Nandan. Nandan was more educational. It had stories with a moral. I found it boring then. I might like it now. It's paper print was also not attractive. Nanhe Samrat was more related to world around. It has characters from neighborhood like Rajesh, Sunil, Deepa. Of all, I loved Nanhe Smarat the most. One reason was the instant connection with characters. As if the characters are from my cricket team. The habit has stayed with me and I love Indian fiction. I can connect with the stories of Indian writers. I might not have matured to understand literature. Though I tried to read Wodehouse; I could not enjoy it. I wonder if these magazines are surviving. By the way, you can observe the differences in the content of three magazines is reflected very well by their cover. In this case, you can judge a book by its cover. I don't see kids in train reading these anymore. Kids belong to this era. They play 'Temple Run' on smartphone or listen to songs.

At my school, kids were more comfortable in my mother tongue Bhojpuri and add to that poor literacy rate among the parents; speaking English at school was a distant dream. I have been told situation is more or less the same even now. My school was more interested in making us speak Hindi. My father was very much interested in making me read/write/speak English fluently. He found out about a magazine called 'Wisdom'. He made sure to buy that for me at least for some months of year. He even switched to 'Hindustan Times' from 'Dainik Hindustan'. To tell you the truth, scrap dealers were more than happy to buy untouched newspapers and 'Wisdom'. Nobody cared for turning a single page of 'Hindustan Times' and I made sure to cover my books using angrezi newspaper. I used to show off in my school that we have subscribed to 'Hindustan Times'. On contrast Hindi newspaper was properly read. At the end of the day, Hindi newspaper must have been cursing its fate for being delivered at my home. In my mother's word, "paper ka to chatni bana diye". I used to snatch sports page on all the days except for the days when India had lost cricket match. I did not read newspaper two days back after India's humiliation by England. One funny side of this whole angrezi paper episode is that my father used to read Hindi newspaper at his friend's shop; my mother and I used to read news paper at one or other neighbor's house. My grammar is bad even now after taking classes from two English tutors in my secondary school days . Though I have improved a little from the state where I used to say, "I goes". One may think there is a hidden phobia about English and after Chetan Bhagat latest adventure at writing; Biharis have got certificate for the same.

Nanhe Samrat


Nandan

Champak

खुश हूँ

2015-01-20T23:43:00.001+05:30

दुखी नहीं है,
आखों में प्यार था,
शब्द नहीं है,
धन्यवाद छोटा शब्द है.

भूले नहीं है,
लबों पर हँसी थी,
दिल परेशान था,
बेचैन मन भी बेचैन था.

पल तो थामना था,
दो-चार पल और मांगने थे,
कहना था अच्छे हो,
कुछ कदम और साथ चलना था.

खुश हूँ आज कल,
देखना कभी मेरी खिलखिलाहट,
देख भी नहीं सकते,
लगा की ना रोऊंगा फिर,

लिख रहा हूँ ये,
आसूँ ने आज धोखा दिया,
पता नहीं कैसे,
खिलखिलाहट के पीछे एक बाँध है.

कोई बात नहीं,
अंत ऐसा होता है,
सुनो एक बार फिर,
अच्छा छोड़ो, जाओ.

I write

2015-01-10T14:52:00.001+05:30

Today I shall write for none,
I lost my story that you loved,
One with a king and a queen,
Living happily in the world of hate.

I shall write not to be understood,
For you don't know the source of story,
Petty you! You swim in river,
without knowing the source.

I heard you complaining,
About color of water and the dirt,
Never you wanted to know,
What made the river dirty?

With the heart full of love and compassion,
King was loved and respected,
Slowly he was poisoned with the divide of class,
Like river hugs the dirt of city.

Enough said the King,
Love and compassion dried,
He started playing on path to hatred,
King assimilated in the mass.

Night after night of darkness,
King rode on the forbidden,
And popular path; Until,
A voice called upon from behind.

You are what you are,
Not by the face and clothes,
But by the thought you generate,
Ride on, But people loved that King.

That King, who still warns the people,
At the gate of the path where this king rides,
Morning is about to come,
I write not to be known.

जिन्दा हूँ मैं।

2014-12-13T11:47:00.001+05:30

जिन्दा हूँ मैं।

हर रोज़ लड़ता हूँ,
खुद की अकांक्षा के बोझ से,
दिन की नीरसता से,
रात के अँधेरे से.

हर रोज सोचता हूँ,
क्या है कल में,
हक़ीक़त और सपनो के अंतर में,
जीवन से सफर के अंत में,

हर रोज़ कोशिश करता हूँ,
आज को जीने की,
गलतियों से सिखने की,
आज को कल से बेहतर बनाने की,

जिन्दा हूँ मैं; क्योंकि,
हर रोज़ लड़ता हूँ,
हर रोज़ सोचता हूँ और
हर रोज़ कोशिश करता हूँ।

Rendezvous

2014-12-06T19:55:00.002+05:30

Glimmering through the tree leaves,

Drenched in the moon light,

I walk on the country road.

Away from the city light,

And the perpetual city noise,

I listen to the nature.

Chirping cricket and croaking Frog,

Moon lit lonely road,

I hum the old song.

Peaceful mind and dancing heart,

Lost in the hustle of city,

I feel my heart beat.

Like another of me arguing with me,

Debating the decisions yet to take,

I realize myself.

Heart and mind communicates,

Clearing the unclear thoughts,

I promise myself more rendezvous.

Pass

2014-11-27T22:59:00.001+05:30

A bad day; Or so I say.
Little realizing what bad day actually is.
That charming batter had bad day,
God called him to show the cover drive.

I kept cribbing of my problems,
Popping out all the time.
Too busy to see,
I lived one another day.

Let me live,
Among peace and harmony,
A quick smile,
To the fellow commuter.

The look of your face,
Calling me fail and,
Chiding me as unworthy,
Take my smile.

For I believe in God,
Who wants me happy,
Caring for me always,
With infinity as boundary.

A happy day, I did not fail.
I will try once more,
One more step,
Just one more step.

Wondering How Many Years

2014-11-22T01:54:00.002+05:30

As I got up one morning,
A day less in my life,
Wondering how years have passed;
Silently, Just the other day,
I was small.

A sudden fear dawned,
If the years pass this fast,
Wondering how many years will pass;
Silently, Just the other day,
I will be old.

I have worries now,
Many How and What unanswered,
Wondering how many years have passed;
Without answers, Just the other day,
I survived happily for so many years.

These worries are futile,
Really? Heart asked gently,
Wondering how many years will pass;
Winning over worries, to find new worries,
I will survive happily all the years to come.

I fear old age.
The weak bones and sinking mind,
Wondering how many years have passed;
Running after the last bus in a crowded bus,
I will prefer comfortable seat in my car.

I am content.
Mind says run and heart says okay,
Wondering how many years will pass,
To run mind and heart in unison,
I will be happy and satisfied.

Oh you!

2014-09-14T23:46:00.000+05:30

There I was, on my way home.
Drowned in melancholy reflections;
Of my days at college and with her.
Windows promptly shut;
Wind you know, was so chilly.

I made up a world in my mind,
Without her presence and,
Like gold without lusture,
I was a king without kingdom.

Anxious, annoyed and helpless,
I tried cheering myself with,
The rains outside and shimmering lights,
from big buildings and street lamps.

Ugly real world, I avoided.
At least I was trying to.
The familiar tone woke me up,
and the name cheered me up.

I talked and talked, I smiled and laughed.
Oh you! the smile on your face,
Makes my world happy and windows open,
As wind was so refreshing.
And I was a king with kingdom once again.

Romancing Bangalore

2014-09-13T19:21:00.001+05:30

Coming to a new city is like running after a girl whom you don't know at all. You have heard about the city from your friends much the same way as you get updated from your friends as soon as you tell them that this girl is your new crush. Some friends tell you about the good things. Like some said "Bangalore has got excellent breweries", "Bangalore has amazing rock culture" or "Bangalore serves you with great filter kappi". Some people complained. They said, "Bangalore has worst traffic; you end up half your life in bus", "Bangalore is very costly" or "Auto wallahs never agree by meter".

Okay! Like a new found crush, I had my own ideas about Bangalore. I stalked the city on Quora; reading answers about how they started this city as IT hub, and how is transportation..blah...blah..
I started looking for check-in by my friends at different places in Bangalore. I must admit that I was still in relationship with Pune then. I lived for one year in Pune. My relationship with Pune was very casual one. I liked Pune, but I was not ready to settle with Pune. Something was missing. Something made me felt that,"Its not for you, bro." You know how it feels. So, finally we broke up happily. 3 months after breaking up, the only thing that I miss of Pune is vada-pav.

My first few days in Bangalore were tough. I did not understand what Bangalore said. Neither did Bangalore understand what I want to say. Few more days and I was finding this city difficult to talk, let alone romance. I was thinking to forget the crush and get back to my ex or better find some desi to romance like Delhi, Noida or Gurgaon. Sometimes I got puzzled in bus numbers and other times the name of places slipped off my mind. I tried looking at the address below the shops but alas the hyperbola and parabola did not mean anything to me. I realized that Chennai Express is mere fiction. And it's very difficult for a tamilian to date punjabi in reality. I don't care what Chetan Bhagat says.

There were bad days, when I was unable to find a place to live. I paid money to reality agents and it almost felt like being looted. I was thinking to charm Bangalore. My friends took me to Toit, Fenny's and other places which they thought will introduce me better to Bangalore. They bought me a ticket for Davis cup match on the coming sunday and CSK's Champions trophy match on 27th. Mutual friends so want to set you up with your crush. I dont know what kind of kick they get out of it. I think they get new topic to pull your leg and ask for treats and things like that. Nevertheless, I think Bangalore started liking me. Rather I found safe topics to play with Bangalore. Bus Pass helped a lot. I found Bangalore completely opposite to me. Bangalore loves cold. It is always clouded. I am connoisseur of sun light. We fought. I got cold. I am coughing while I am write this. Now you must be judging me. That I am one of those complaining types. I am not. I love many things. I like AC buses. I like technical people here. On my way to work last day, fellow passenger was reading architecture of pentium processor. Such things are cool. I totally love it. And I have more friends in this city than any other city in India. Of course, many of them are now leaving for US. By the way, I like how they write name of MNCs in kannada. And few days back, I went for coffee. And beside my table, there was one guy in old worn out tshirt explaining his product to a well dressed man and the demo of his product was running on his laptop.

Some more charming. Some more appreciation. Some more understanding. And I think we can go a long way.

No IT company in Bihar?

2014-09-08T00:21:00.001+05:30

Is there any scope of IT industry in Bihar?

Obviously! There is plenty of scope. But first let's investigate how Bangalore become what it is now. How did Bangalore become the biggest IT hub in India and why was no other Indian city able to compete with it ?

They say Texas Instrument was the first company which wanted to set up their office in India due to the high percentage of Indians (South Indians were dominant) working in TI, US office. They visited Mumbai and Chennai, but bureaucratic hurdles stopped them from doing so. When they visited Karnataka, R. Gundu Rao, then Chief Minister came personally to receive them as well as provided them all kind of support they needed to establish themselves. Furthermore, He sanctioned many engineering colleges which helped in creating an environment for development. Jamshed Ji Tata founded IISc in 1899 which is the top center for research and development with its well equipped labs and well qualified teachers. Furthermore, many government companies which had technological root like ISRO, BEL, HMT, HAL were already setlled in Bangalore.

Under the leadership of Shri Nitish Kumar, Bihar Government was very keen to develop IT in Bihar. Okay! Government made 20 km free wifi zone near IIT Patna and on the day of inaugration of free wifi service, he stated,"It will be a 20 KM wide free Wi-Fi zone, which would run through IIT,Patna in Bihta to Saguna More in Patna. I have been informed that it will be the biggest free Wi-Fi zone in the world. It also shows how serious we are for promoting IT and ITeS industry in the state. We have a big digital divide to fill and we are leaving no stone unturned to do so. Delhi-NCR, Mumbai or Bangalore may have taken a lead in this sector, but as they are getting dearer by day, you should come to Bihar."

Nice thing that they are providing free wifi. But I think more concrete steps are needed in the direction to make things more feasible. First thing is infrastructure. Roads in Patna or any other town of Bihar is so narrow that government can hardly run intra-city buses. Companies would not set up their offices until they are very sure that their employees can reach on time. Most of the roads are in dark except for the few in Patna. How do you convince companies which are already apprehensive after so many bad news reports all these years that their employees are going to be safe after doing night shifts? Currently Bihar is not self sufficient for its electricity requirement and is dependent on central pool. Though many mega thermal projects are coming up and we may see handsome production in coming years. If IIT-Patna lives upto the expectation, I see no reason that a creative and professional environment that promotes start-up culture can not establish in Bihar. There is also need of better law and order condition which acts as catalyst in creating an investor friendly relation.

I can sum up the answer with a yes. Yes that there can be an IT hub in Bihar provided government shows determination that is needed to compensate all the years of indifference and negligence.

Making of India as we know it

2014-09-06T16:26:00.001+05:30

How many princely states were in India at the time of Independence?

V P Menon

They were so many in number that historians are not even in agreement about their number. Some histroians claim 521, while others say 565. But certainly they were more than 500 and varied widely
in terms of size and status. Kashmir and Hyderabad were larger in size than many countries of the world whereas some were just combination of dozen of villages. British created many proposals which allowed them to control many important aspect of Indian princely states like military, succession at a hefty fee without taking any responsibility of welfare of its people. (Parallels may be drawn to last government where Manmohan Singh was prime minister while decisions were taken somewhere else.) These states had their own railways, currency and stamps, but as aptly pointed by one British observer,"The states were sinks of reaction and incompetence and unrestrained autocratic power sometimes exercised by vicious and deranged individuals". Indian National Congress was more or less shared the same view.

Congress had assigned the problem of states to the pragmatic administrator Vallabhbhai Patel. He threw a series of lunch parties, where he urged his princely guests to help the congress in framing a new constitution of India. And at the same time, Patel wrote to influential chief ministers of the princely states urging them to convince their rulers to come to terms with the party which would now rule India. One of the first princes to come over to Patel's side was Maharaja of Bikaner. His dewan was K. M. Pannikar who could see that force of nationalism was irrestible. And if one did not compromise with them, one would be swept away. On 27 June, a new States department was set up by the government of India under the leadership of Sardar Patel. He chose V. P. Menon as his secratry who had, unlike other secretaries to Governemnt of India fromIndian Civil Service, joined the governemnt of India as a clerk and steadily worked his way up. Credentials of V. P. Menon included his role as reforms commissioner and constitutional adviser to successive viceroys, and
his key role in drafting the Indian Independence Bill.

On July 5, Patel issued a statement appealing to the princes of India to accede to the Indian Union by transferring control of defence, foreign affairs and communications to the congreess government. Mountbatten was a key player in the whole effort. Mahatma Gandhi, Nehru and Patel met viceroy Mountbatten and asked him to bat for them against the states. This he did effectively by advising them to forge raltions with the new nation closest to them. As author Ramchandra Guha puts his act,"In my opinion it ranks as the most significant of all his acts in India. It finally pursauded the princes that Bristish would no longer protect or patronize them, and that Independence for them was a mirage." By 15th of August virtually all the states had signed the instrument of Accession. Meanwhile the popular sentiment of people was for full democratic government in the state. Patel used the threat of popular protest to make the princes fall in line. They had already acceded; now they were being asked to integrate, that is to dissolve their states as independent entities and merge with Union of India. In exchange they can keep their titles and an allowance will be paid to them. V. P. Menon describes in detail the torturous negotiations with the rulers. One ruler claimed descent from Lord Rama, another from Sri Krishna. In exchange of their land, each rulerwas offered a 'privy purse', its size proportional to the revenue earned by the state.

Travancore's dewan (chief minister) made clear as early February, 1946 that after British, Travancore would became a 'perfectly independent unit'. Travancore was located at the southern tip of the subcontinent, it had the most highly educated populace in India, a thriving maritime trade, and newly discovered reserves of monazite. One other state was Bhopal. Nawab of Bhopal was a bitter opponent of congress. He communicated with Lord Mountbatten reminding him of Baroda's devotion to His Majesty's Government and asked for his support for independent Baroda. At last Nawab asked viceroy to press Patel to extend the deadline by 10 days so that his accession would be announced after 15th August. By the way, Nawab of Bhopal is maternal grandfather of Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi, former captain of Indian cricket team as well as Sharayar Khan, former foreign Secretary of Pakistan and great grand father to Saif Ali Khan and Soha Ali Khan. One another funny case was of Jodhpur. Where Maharaja of Jodhpur was supposedly convinced that since his state shares border with Pakistan, he could get better deal with that dominion. Some say that Jinnah handed over a blank sheet to Maharaja and asked him to fill the conditions himself.

Nawab of Bhopal

Juagadh consisted of mainly Hindu population ruled by a Muslim king. The Nawab decided to accede to Pakistan which afterd few days Pakistan agreed to. Though It made little sense geographically as well as culturally. Sardar Patel supported Hindu chiefs of Junagadh who wanted to join India. He suppoerted them with a small military. Samaldas Gandhi led provisonal government of Junagadh was set up in Bombay. This 'government' became the vehicle of popular agitation against the Nawab. In panic, Nawab fled to Pakistan and Indians organized a plebiscite with 91% percent of the electorate voting for accession to India. Its important to mention that Nawab of Junagadh is known for his pioneering effort to save Asiatic Lions.

Nawab of Juagadh

Hyderabad was another state which did not accede to any of the two dominions as of 15th August 1947. Nizam controlled the 10% of the land of Hyderabad and he earned around Rs 25 million from his land holdings as well as 5 millions from the state treasury. He was one of the richest man of the world but also one of the most miserly. He was usually dressed in unironed pyjama and shirt and a faded fez. He never offered any kind of hospitality to a visitor and drove in an old car.There were three party in Hyderabad's causse; Hyderabad State Congress which sought Hyderabad to join India; Communista Party of Indiawhich ran a parallel government in many parts of Hyderabad. They first siezed all holding in access of 500 acres, bringing the limit down to 200 and then 100 acres; The third party was Ittihad-ul-Muslimeen which was loyal to Nizam and founded to safeguard the muslim
pride in Deccan. Kasim Rizvi was the leader of Ittihad. Ittihad promoted a paramilitary body called the 'Razakars', whose members marched up and down the roads of Hyderabad, carrying swords and gun.Nawab was encouraged by Coservative party of Britain. They presented Congress as Hitler and Hyderabad as Poland and wanted to protect the interest of their loyal friend Nizam. In late november 1947, Nizam signed a 'Standstill Agreement' under which agreement between Hyderabad and British Raj would be continued with its successor government. On 21st June 1948, Lord Mountbatten resigned from office of governor general. Many requests and mediators failed to change the mind of Nizam. on 13th of September, a contingent of Indian troops was sent to Hyderabad. In less than 4 days, they had control of full Hyderabad. Later, Nizam was rewarded for his final submission by being made governor of new Indian state of Hyderabad.

On the concluding note, Guha says that Patel's guiding hand was indeed wise and sure. Even Nehru might not have supervised the princes extinction with such patience and foresight. But he could not have done his job woithout V.P Menon who made hundreds of trips to the chiefdoms.

Nizaam of Hyderabd

This blog post is based on the third chapter of "India After Gandhi" by Ramchandra Guha.

untold

2014-08-18T11:20:00.000+05:30

Somebody down the street plays,
Delilah don't you worry.
And how I wish, somebody say;
Its gonna be all right.

Escape was long gone option,
Convinced that its all for comfort,
I think of pain, grief and sorrow
of separation and distances.

And when finally when, to you;
The picture looks complete,
Things come uncalled for,
You whisper, Life you bitch.

Its midnight, chilly wind,
and scattered city lights;
You make patterns of them,
streaming your inner voices.

Rolling on the bed,
customary good nights untold;
Hope; They say, makes you see
the light, amid all darkness.