Sunday, October 2, 2016

A Garhwali Folktale............

[ I tried to find a Garhwali folktale but couldn't find one so made up this from popular Russian lore . The end kind of reflects Garhwali sensibility ]

Gairola and Badola were two childhood friends, lazy bums; in American idiom you can say pathetic losers. Gairola was the stronger of the two. Tired of their ways the villagers booted them out of the village. The friends decided they will try luck in town but between the town and village lay a dense forest. Summoning all their courage the two friends embarked on this treacherous journey through the forest. They spent the night in jungle trembling in fear under a tree, the sole source of relief was a fire that kept them warm and also provided succour from darkness and elements. They were lazy bums but not short on empathy. In the middle of night a terrified squirrel fell on their
lap. They caringly provided it shelter and comfort. 
At dawn the squirrel morphed into a yaksh. Pleased with their conduct the yaksh bestowed on them a boon each. 
“Ask for anything Gairola” he said.
“Any thing?”
“Sure anything reasonable; I will try to make it happen”
So the Gairola thought for a while and them said,
“I want a goat”
Bingo! There was a robust goat by the side of Gairola. It was now turn of Badola,
"You, Badola! ask anything”
Badola took even more time to think and then said resignedly,
“I want Gairola’s goat to die”
In a flash the goat was dead, very inert……….
Yaksh was puzzled, he asked Badola
“You could have asked for two goats Badola”
Badola whispered quietly in Yaks’ ears, “I thought about it. Life yaksh is a little complex not everything is works out the way you want. If I had asked for two goats, I would have eventually ended up with nothing and Gairola with three goats.

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

A Tiny Beautiful Rose

This button size rose will not grow any bigger but that doesn’t make it any less beautiful. This inspiring story will tell you why……
There is an old sweeper in our building who spends time in the shades of parking area, may be his own place is cramped and stuffy in this hot weather and large open space liberates his spirits. He has a discarded pram, rickety but still functional, in which he adoringly takes care of his infant grandson, I see him there off and on, sometimes the child is left all alone sleeping in the pram in hot afternoon… the old man likely nearby, running some errand.

Yesterday afternoon I came back home after dropping my wife at the station. While parking I didn’t notice a plastic bucket, it was white and matched floor color lying on the way so it came under the car and dragged with horrible screeching sound. Immediately my temper exploded at the carelessness of the jerk who left that bucket there. Then I saw two pillars away the old man pushing the pram, he left it and came rushing. My anger melted as I saw the man wet all over in guilt and beseeching. I quietly helped him retrieve the bucket from underneath the car and said, “No problem”. Suddenly I felt an urgent need; I went down the block in hot afternoon bought some toffees and gave it to child in pram. I felt a sense of nirvana and very beautiful like the small rose, dazzling!
I decided both the old man and I am, are beautiful persons, just that I never noticed it. Small beautiful things are visible only when you focus on them. Big celebrities are also ugly at places if you closely look at them like Sri Sri Ravishanker doesn’t see any value in Malala to deserve Nobel Prize. Try telling him, muster courage and put life on stake KNOWINGLY as Malala did by challenging the terrorist and going to school.

Monday, November 16, 2015

Fear Of Not Dying ........

When I was a child I used think the old fellows near sixty years must be leading miserable lives. The idea of death was terrifying to me but thankfully being young I assumed its happening to me was extremely unlikely therefore it did not touch me. But I thought old folks must be living in mortal fear of death happening to them anytime. Seeing them smile and having fun and generally going about their lives in usual manner surprised me. 

Now that I am past sixty death really doesn't terrify me. Now I live in present moment by moment thinking everyday I live is a bonus but what frightens me is NOT dying. The thought that I will live on and on and not die when I am fit and enjoying life terrifies me. Eventually my organs will fail me one by one this state doesn't appeal to me. I believe death is a terminus, cessation of existence therefore when I am gone nothing would matter and that really sets my mind at peace. 

Thursday, August 27, 2015


This wet morning I was driving home to a very thin traffic. Only few office goers briskly walking to the station, when I saw silhouette of a hooded man in light incessant drizzle, carrying a massive bag slung over his shoulder.  Immediately a thought occurred to me, rag picker and drug user. Another voice rose in my head and chastised roundly this reflex thinking….  Who are we to judge? This guy most likely has no other talent, even if he did he never got round to sharpen it besides to make use of your talent a guy needs opportunity perhaps he never was in right place at the right time…... so he chose this vocation, a dreary, boring tedious job that pays very little; so little that it destroys “Hope”. Without hope we do not make effort so this fellow lives on the fringe most of the time rummaging through leftover, picking copious amount of disposed plastic punched them flat and filling his bag …

What does he hope for after day long ordeal; pushed around by authority, derided by better off people and tired to very core of his bones! He seeks nirvana in fantasy, why grudge him his few moments of nirvana?

“Give him hope or shut up” I tell the wise guy in my head. 

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Bizarre Dream

[I had this dream early in the morning. Like a montage complete with climax, it was truly bizarre]

It looked like a construction site, a hole dug out under a high hill.  Everywhere scaffolding with littering of construction equipment; a part of the opening under the hill was turned into a big glitzy conference hall where a big crowd was in circulation. In the dream I was drifting along the hall when I met this inscrutable Korean businessman. The fellow looked careless and concerned at the same time; may be deep down something bothering him yet making pretense of no care in the world.  We move around without any visual conversation yet talked inanity and about his business interest. It appeared that he and his American partner imported things from China and sold the stuff everywhere. Somewhere down the road they had some a kind falling out but not quite parting of ways. Their business once successful but now irrevocably dissipating....

We drift along and move out of the hall into raw construction part of site deep under the hill. Some hectic work was going on with scaffolding, cranes, trucks around a tunnel like opening. I asked the Korean fellow what is this all about, he said amiably, the Chinese are constructing an underground motorway across the border. Apparently the Chinese had done their part except this end which was not in their work contract was behind schedule so all the activity to complete and open it to public. I asked, if he had been to China? All over China, he said, in connection with their purchases.

We get back into the hall and to his stall. There he is met with an exotic looking fellow complaining about payments. The Korean promptly opens his briefcase draws a cheque and hands it over to the stranger to his utter surprise. Suddenly there is commotion in the hall the crowd is panicky rushing out of the hall .....
 I too get out to check what the commotion is all about. There at the mouth of tunnel an American is hanging from the scaffolding, explosives strapped all over his body. The fellow was shouting to get the Korean to him. I rushed back to hall but there at the stall Korean was sprawled limp on the table, very dead. I hear shattering sound of explosion. 

I woke up to dark early morning chill. 

Thursday, March 5, 2015

Sting, Deception, Conspiracy, Threats and Palace Intrigue..... The farce that has become Aam Aadmi Party

I knew Kejriwal to be a stubborn, snooty individual but never imagined he would turn out to be a pathological hater. AAP professes to root out corruption from our polity but are means not equally important as ends are, like Gandhi said? The way drama in AAP unfolding it resembles court of Elizabeth; of brewing conspiracies, deceptions, and sting operations almost all means employed in palace politics.

AAP now in every way resembles an oligarchy centered around Kejriwal where all means are fair to not just snuff out opposition but crush it permanently. Not even Mulayam-Mayawati duet comes close. There is striking similarity between AAP and Congress party drama about their Chiefs resigning and the associated coterie rejecting it and the farcical charade of chief reluctantly acceding to it and taking back the resignation....

Up to a point these machinations are acceptable as political means but what is unacceptable is unleashing vendetta on personal basis

Is it beginning of the end may be not but more turbulence just round the corner.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Mother Teresa And Mohan Bhagwat.

Is there anything wrong in serving and trying to convert people from other folds into your own? Does it matter if the motive of Mother Teresa in serving people was to convert them into Christianity? She was merely following her religion faithfully, can you fault with that? Christianity and also Islam exhort their followers to bring faith to those who are not in their fold so a good Christian necessarily tries to convert others.  Mohan Bhagwat wants Christians to abandon their faith just because Hindus don't believe in conversion. It is not the fault of Christianity that Hindus don’t believe in conversion. Jews don’t believe in conversion so do Zoroastrians and they are in much less numbers than Hindus but they don’t feel insecure about it and have no issue with conversion!

In any case how does her lifetime’s work of serving less privileged is discounted merely because it was packaged with a dose of Conversion. We all act with some purpose, it is our driving force else we would be sitting idle in our place and waste away. Mohan Bhagwat is also acting with some purpose; it is his insecurity driving him about a false sense of a glorious and ancient religion in imminent peril. He is a like a delusional man clapping hard at a busy crossing when asked why he is doing it, says,
”I am driving away wild elephants”.
“But there aren’t any elephants in hundred miles!”
“See, how effective I am!”   

   Mother Teresa may have many faults, following her religion faithfully was certainly not one of them. When insecure pigmies are provided centre stage and are confused with great leaders, fascism couldn’t be far away.  

Let Mohan Bhagwat work with destitutes and lepers, tend sick and invalids over sustained periods then may be utter some nonsense about what it means to serve..