'The White Tiger' - Aravind Adiga

Just went through the another stinking version of 'Six Suspects". Only difference is that this time name of dirt hole is "The White Tiger" and prize winner is Aravind Adiga.

My New Companion

My maternal uncle was professional photographer. With his Rolleiflex he used to click at me every now & then when I was kid. He taught me few tips including how to hold a picture in hand. My enthusiasm for photography started at that stage. And then in 1990 my sister in law gave me cute present of Mamiya NC1000s. I spent a lot of time and money on that one. But learning photography on old film cameras was very expensive. I was too hasty when digital cameras were introduced in India in 2000 and bought a 2.1 MP without making much fuss about it's very limited specifications. After that purchase I was determined to buy a good digital SLR and to be do photography as a serious hobby.

Since then every time whenever I made my mind to buy one, a new urgency would appear from nowhere. Priorities change so fast for a person in business like me that most of the times personal temptations have to take place at back burner. And my urge for a nice digital SLR was on back burner for good long years. But the time has to arrive and it did arrive at the appropriate time. After long wait and lengthy R&D, finally Canon EOS Rebel T1i is now hanging on my Naneu Pro backpack along a series of accessories.

Visiting places is not a new affair but with this new companion now the memories are definitely going to have new dimensions. My first visit after that buy was a fair at Kumarsain and many more are in the queue. I hope these journeys are going to be regular and memorable.

Just keep looking for what I look at on Flickr.

Sitting On The Bank !

"Actually my odyssey (for mysticism) had begun in Chicago when I was a stock broker. Working on La Salle Street at Bear Sterns made me feel important since I was on my way to becoming financially independent. I worked hard, knowing my future was set. Three years passed, and one day I walked into the office and surveyed the scene. I noted that one colleague was recuperating from his third heart attack, another was getting his third divorce, six others were using tranquilizers like potato chips, and everyone was heading to the bar daily to forget their trades. I wondered what malfunction I would acquire over the years. It hit me in a flash that this struggle was not worth it. I resigned the following week and chose the next obviously logical step in my evolution: I joined a monastery. " ............................Justin O' Brien wrote these words in his early pages of "Walking with a Himalayan Master - Swami Ram". And while taking on this book for second time I closed the book after I read these lines and my thought train left the station for yet another unknown route of unknown destination.

Though monastery was not the final destination Justin was searching for since years, but of course it was a start of journey towards the correct direction at the crossroads of his life. At least Justin was attentive enough to listen his inner voice and then also brave enough to act on it and for that he achieved what he wanted to explore all his life till that moment. Kabir ji have written :

जिन खोजा तिन पाया, गहरे पानी पैठ

मैं बपुरन बूढा डरा, रहा किनारे बैठ ॥

"Those who tried, they achieved, by entering deep waters, me coward and feared of drowning kept sitting on the bank all time." (One can interpret 'deep waters' & 'fear of drowning' in his own lifestyle but it do implement on every saint to salesman.)

Also there are (lucky ?) people who are not even aware of any inner voice withing themselves. They have never heard any internal sayings or in other words they don't have so much of calm in their mind, body or spirit that they could hear one. Also there are (strong ?) people those who do hear inner voices but those voices do not bother them at all or they are able to ignore those voices through out their life spans. And then there are people like me (Confused ? ) those who find & listen their inner voices loud and clear but they are unable to understand it. Listening and then acting to callings of mind is far away thing, for a person like me the difficult most task on the earth is to measure the dimensions of own mind. Who are we? What are we here for? What is exactly we are looking for? Are we really happy? Or we are sad unnecessarily? Which happiness is real happiness, the joy of winning a million dollars lottery or moments of peace of mind ? Does everyone feels some vacuum somewhere ? These are very confusing questions. And I don't know where they come from in my mind? And I am seriously bothered by this non stop blah- blahing of my mind.

Once a friend (whom I think is the one of few persons I know who enjoy every second of their lives and who kept poking me for not enjoying my life to max as I kept wandering in search of unknown objects, told me that whenever she visits her nearby temple she feels great eternal peace and so she visits that temple daily. Now that's confusing. If she have so much of fun & joy of shopping, clubbing elite clubs, social - financial securities, having an affectionate family, keeping body in perfect shape etc, why that few moments of peace in that temple is on the top of the her list? I know she would never agree to sacrifice that 'small' peace in lieu of those other worldly gems of enjoyment. So what is real joy ?

No this has nothing to do with spirituality. I don't think I am spiritual but yes I do think God is there and I think I am curious, too curious to be worse. I have lot of questions to put in front of Him. But I also fear that if anyhow, I face Him ever, I won't be remembering a single question for Him. May be just the luminous of His presence would complete my search. And if this all is called mysticism, let it be. But I have countless contradictions in compare to a person to be in the realm of mysticism. And that's what the whole confusion is about. And that is about measuring the dimensions of my mind which don't let me take breath on one side. 'Useless show-off sucks' I am of the view point but fancy cars & bikes do attract me. My heart would enlighten with the idea of exploring the unseen world but my practical brain reminds me of my duties towards my family. I dream of having a cottage at a hill top with the view of lake amid snow clad mountains but then simultaneously I want to own a penthouse in the metro I live in. The imprisonment of our dependence on materialistic things (how many things we need daily to leave for office like cellphone, laptop (with wi-fi), wallet, keys, wristwatch, glasses etc and we feel handicap even if one thing is skipped for a day) irritates me but on the other hand I do own and wanna own the latest gadgets. I know if one has to find hidden meaning of life he needs to read 'those special' writings but those writing makes me sleepy in initial pages and rather I would read a thriller in one sitting. The list including, monetary interests, human nature, mentality, sexual interests, family bounding, religious activities is too long and my being a pendulum in opposite directions won't let me recognize myself. The quest would go on!

Is anyone else is sailing in the same boat?

Rainy Roads !

After a long wait finally rains are here. Everything around seems new, clean and so full of life. Colours are showing off at their best. The fragrance of wet earth is enlightening. I can imagine what would be the scene in hills. Numerous small and big water falls, gorges and waterways would be flowing in their full swing. White clouds would be hovering and mystifying the whole surroundings. The noise of rain drops on the leaves creating en thrilling music. What I am doing sitting here in office. I need to be there. I need to be driving my bike on those rainy roads.

Zindgi Aa Rahaaaa Hoon Main..............................!

What A Heart Wants ?

Those thoughts keep coming back every day now and then. Maybe those thoughts have never left me. May be it's deeply rooted in my DNA that keep surfacing with every this n that way.

Years back in around 1990 while I was roaming in Sangla valley of Kinnaur in Himachal along few friends, amid the small village of Sangla I came across a two roomed vocational training centre of Vanvasi Kalyan Ashram, an organization dedicated for upliftment of people of tribal areas in India. That centre was providing vocational training to big girls and basic education to small children of near by villages. Only a duo of husband-wife in their late thirties was running the whole show. They both belonged from Bangalore in Karnataka thousands of miles away from that small village of Kinnaur. They both were well educated and had their respective jobs back there and had decided to give six months for the welfare of their country and were deputed here as part of their non-paying duty. Those two rooms were their part of world for those six months.

Those few hours spent with that couple were engraved on my mind forever. With the divine surroundings of Himalayas, flowing of Baspa river, always smiling innocent people, mystic temples and Deities within, yellow harvest dancing in the fields, small houses made of stone and wood are still afresh in my heart. Sitting alone on the bank of Baspa that time I dreamt of settling there forever. I didn't know even after many years that if it was a serious thought or was a temporary attraction of young immature teen aged mind.

But one thing is for sure true, that all of my life till now, mountains fascinates me. It was not only that couple who showed me the way but as above I wrote it is in my blood which is very easily provoked when ever I see mountains. A small house in the hills is what I dream of for my retirement. The hassle basal of daily life, unnecessary competition in business and social life, rat race of earning more and more only to maintain your metro status, watching other people's possession of 'brands' and watching other people watching your possession of 'brands' sicken me. When will this blind circle end ? When I am gonna to be at my place? The place I have always dream of, the place where only peace of mind prevails.

But there is one hidden fear also. The way I wail about this routine life, who can be sure of that I won't get sick of that life too? May be it's only my mind, a confused mind. They say you can not get the depth of some one's mind but here it seem true with my own mind. Or may be it's just only one colour among the millions others contained in my mind. Who knows? But no doubt this colour is what my heart is made of.

'Six Suspects'

To help a friend for a project about how great this nation of Bharat was, is and still can be in future, I was searching for some images about India when I fell into a deep, dark and stinking gorge of a blog about India which contained nothing positive but only filth, sorrow, suffering, poverty, crime, backwardness, uncertainty, insecurities, evils, fears, hate and venom for India. That person titled "Zillion reasons to escape from India" to his/her blog and has totally dedicated his life to magnify every evil of India in his words. Spending very few minutes on those pages literally were like spending that much time in a hell for me. These are the people who can never find a tiny good thing about their country or could lift a finger to rectify a problem but would do their best to bring that weakness in front of the lousy spectators of entire world with the royal bash of orchestration. I don't know what do these people gain from such shameless self exposure but certainly few people do make money out of it and one of them is Mr. Vikas Swarup.

Six Suspects by Vikas Swarup is not very different from his 'very famous' novel Q&A. This Q&A is the same novel which gave a very proud new name to Indians, that is "Slumdog". I agree that every creative writer, poet or artist always tries to bring untouched, unseen and under the current subjects to his or her creativity but according to my knowledge Swarup has written only two novels and both are about the so called pathetic state of India. I think he have learnt the mantra of selling in global market where movies like Lagaan loses the rat race of Oscar and movies like Slumdog Millionaire bags all the awards.

Six Suspects is a twisted story of Jassica Lal murder case where accused is a spoiled son of a wealthy corrupt politician and both father son duo manipulates law accordingly to their will and gain. That son "Vicky Rai" in this story is murdered in the celebration party of his acquittal from this murder and police arrest six persons from the party under suspicion. These six suspects include, a leading Indian actress who is cheated by her cousin, an American who is cheated by an Indian, a tribal who's tribe is cheated by their welfare officer, a retired diplomat who cheated his wife and then is now cheated by his keep, a slumdog youth who was cheated by his luck all his life and finally that corrupt politician who kept cheating innocent people till now and was cheated by his own son in the end. So the whole story is about corruption, deceit and backstabbing which obviously prevail ONLY in India and ONLY things which prevail in India according these kind of writers. Mr. Vikas Swarup is an Indian diplomat in Indian Foreign Services and I think he cannot serve India better than what he has done by his writings to paint Indian picture in front of this globe.

Some very highly educated, open minded, global viewing and let's-face-the-fact attitude people may stand with their views of justifying such 'bold' topics but I would prefer to stay illiterate than to enjoy and applause such indiscriminate oeuvre about my country which is not entirely true.

'Tishay.......that's enough'

It was around a year and four months ago when last time this space was used for 'Tishay'. Since then countless 'huggies' have crossed under his legs. Since then many household items have reached their fate of untimely deaths or have crippled. If Tishay's toys could talk, they must have called him 'Terminator'. Any thing in his hands would be shattered on the floor as if he was a 'F-16, deployed in Iraq' in his previous life. He is not afraid of cockroaches and would hold one in his hand to see the horrific reaction on his mom's face. He loves travelling, we came to know about this nature of his when one Sunday we all were busy attending some guests and later realised that Tishay was missing. First in home then in neighbourhood and finally I had to take out car only to find him in near market sitting on a rickshaw shouting at confused rickshawala to take him on a tour. There are very familiar and stereotyped noises coming out of our house nowadays. Either it is a shattering noise or shouts of 'Tishayyyyyyyyy Enough, Tishu BUS KAR.......... Tishu........... my head is aching, Tishey ...............for God sake" etc etc. Everybody want him to sleep for a while. But he would sleep only after everyone and as if it's not enough, would wake before everyone else.

Tishay have started mumbling full sentences now. He is very curious and wants to explore everything he sees. His smartest teacher is Pogo. He also likes watching Nat Geo with me only to keep blasting, "Papa......... O Ka Ai (Woh Kya Hai .........whats that) ?" He is also getting fond of commercials on TV and tries to repeat after them. His favourite is Airtel's kid saying "Papa ka phone aayaa tha na". Whenever that ad is on TV, within seconds Tishay would emerge from nowhere like a missile from sky. I bet his teachers in playway are much happy to see him off in noon than to receive him in the morning. He loves to draw and his colourful drawings are exhibited free of cost for any visitor on the walls of our home. He also likes guessing pictures on his book of alphabets. The only problem is he would keep pointing his tiny lovely index finger on the picture for you to answer his non-stop 'what is that' questions. Whenever we are tired of a visitor, we would send Tishay to him along his alphabet book. Easy!

Tishay wants to have a doggy now. But as I am reluctant so far, his adventures with doggies of neighbourhood are on. They all are his best friends to play with. Though a head-ache, he is apple of our eye, beat of my heart. Taking him in my lap makes me feel heavenly and I can easily sail off from my worldly worries. But only problem is, like a frog he won't sit peacefully in my lap for long. "Papa............ O Ka Ai" ??

'The 3 Mistakes of My Life'

I heard and vaguely read a lot about Chetan Bhagat some time back when he was emerging as a writer on Indian horizon but simultaneously I kept ignoring those tv clips and news articles as I feel that our media always overreact and get horribly obsessed with any such issues where any Indian effort gets even a little foreigner attention. I am not saying proudly that I admire this habit of mine but I honestly feel that way. And cause of such nasty habit of being prejudice, many times I do miss enjoying some good things. Only cause of this habit till now I haven't seen 'Slumdog Millionaire' (that's another point that right now I am reading another novel 'Six Suspects' by Vikas Swarup, the same author of original novel 'Q & A' of Slumdog Millionaire) even after approvals of some friends. Anyway, we were talking of Chetan Bhagat, and few days ago I saw his novel 'The 3 Mistakes of My Life' in a shelf of the 'latest books' rack of my beloved 'Municipal Library' and got it issued.

I must admit here, though I got a fair idea from prologue that 'Gujarat' is going to be discussed in the novel, the prologue of book was so interesting that I could not help myself finishing the book ASAP even against the periodically repeated stern stares of sleepy eyes of my wife which used to start exactly one hour after each midnight. (If looks could kill - I better get a reading lamp now). Whenever the word 'Gujarat' came in front of my eyes or hits my ears, my both eyebrows shake hands together, my lip line dips downward and a sound of 'chuch chuch' comes out of my mouth automatically. In these seven years, I have gone really sick of these riots. Thanks to our secular media who is not letting this terrible happenings fade off as easily as countless other riots in the history of independent India have died and buried without much fuss.

Now thankfully, this story is not only about riots but also of friendship, passion, business, love and Cricket. And all these five (or six if to add riot) elements are essential ingredients of any average Indian life. Govind, Omi and Ish are best friends who dream like common Indian youths and try to convert those dreams into reality when different events keep changing their lives in different aspects. The main character is Govind who is narrating the story and about the mistakes he made in his life. The momentum of story never halts throughout the novel. As in the last pages riots took over, I am thankful to Chetan that he has not tried to be a preacher about riots even then just like every writer I felt him being storyteller of single side of the coin. The mixture of reality and fiction has made this novel worth reading. The end of the novel reminds me of the end of 'Dil Chahta Hai'.

The result of this novel? I am gonna try the other two (or three may be) books by Chetan Bhagat.

Look-alike Can Kill !

If I had another person in the car, he would have heard my heartbeat without any effort. My heartbeat had taken a vertical flight all of sudden. "Was that her?" I asked none other but myself while staring the reflection in the rear view mirror of the car ahead me.

Image of the driver in mirror of the car ahead my car was very resembling to her. We were driving in the hills and there was not much traffic on the road. The very thought of the possibility of her driving front of me had risen my pulse rate. "Damn it Praney, let her be if she is her. Why you are so bothered?" I tried to agree to my inner voice and tried to calm down. But was that so easy? I was still watching her in the mirror, trying to confirm whether it was her or someone else. But constant curves and her fast driving didn't let me be sure. She was really driving bit fast. I am a cool driver and do not drive rashly but in attempt to stay close of her so I could watch her in the mirror, I accelerated a bit.

"When did she learn driving?" I was calculating all the options of her being her or someone else. "Why not ? Can't she learn driving? It's been so many years and without learning to drive a car one is burden these days." I was arguing within myself. "But what the hell you think are you doing you fool" the inner of myself jerked me strongly. "She dumped you years back and you foolish still fighting for her little glimpse? What difference would that make if that is her or someone else. Let her go to hell damn it" I totally stand by what half of my heart was shouting. I thought of slowing down to my normal speed. But the other half was doing his job silently "Just a look and we shall leave to our directions. What's the harm?"

The lady driving front car was quite like her. She was wearing spectacles like her. Her hair were short like her (as she had in those good times). And the town ahead was her parental town. An elderly lady was sitting besides her on the front passenger seat who could be her mother or mother in law may be. There were strong possibilities of her being her. "Did she see me too?" I was thinking cause I saw her watching me back in mirror. "She did not see you when she should have and when you needed her most, what are you expecting from her now. Don't be a sentimental ass---- and be a man. Let her layoff. Why can't you erase her from your mind even after so many years?" "Fourteen years" I tried to be exact to my self. My half heart was right. In these long fourteen years for countless times I had cursed her in those sleepless nights for what she did to me and then the same time regretted my own words for her. Since then I have managed to put a brave face in front of all. I haven't seen her for over fourteen years. She was enjoying her life (I hope) and I have grown above it too (I hope). I thought I had erased her off my mind and soul. Then why her thoughts still got the power to thrill me or to haunt me if to be specific ? What made me so vulnerable and herself so permanent ? I do not know how many kilometers I drove sailing in these thoughts. That car had sped away since long. I sighed and felt pathetic simultaneously. "Come on buddy, she is gone for good and you should get over it, live your life and throw her thoughts in the waste bin once for all." My mind told me like always. I agreed like always and turned the volume high of car radio.

My breath leaped at the next turn. That car was stopped at a gas station and the driver was stepping out. My all the vows vanished in the air and I was watching her with my jaw dropped. And all sudden everything changed dramatically. She was not her. I drove past them smoothly and my mind was laughing at me. "What the hell man. what a drama it was." Both halves of my heart were silent now. No one knew what to say. I wish car FM was playing "I'll get over you" from Pretty Woman.

Happy Ashok Chakra Day !

Unlike every year this day, watching the show of 'Might of India' at Rajpath didn't let me have feel of pride for my country. Instead my heart is thickly covered by clouds of gloom and despair .

What are these Bramhos or Agni or Bhishma missiles are worth of ? What is the use of wasting money on all these weaponry ? What can a gun do if the hands handling it are not capable of pressing a trigger ? Our leaders are weak, sick and compromising. Our media is cynical and is interested only in numbers of circulation and TRP.

An Academy or Oscar award is more than enough for the people of this country to forget every slap & insult on them and dance madly on the eve of "Fight Against Terrorism". Indeed we all are Slumdogs and many of them are millionaires. Insensitive, incapable, without any self respect and ready to be crushed by any Jihadi like a stinking worm. Thanks to our DNA, the momentary anger of Indians after 26/11 is vaporised completely.

I am not a war freak but thinks, a country of 7 millions Israel, is far batter than the country of 2 billions who rocked the whole world on the killings of it's merely 10 citizens. Here leave the physical war away, the country of Chanakya has even lost the diplomatic war against Pakistan. "All options are open" boasting ministers are endlessly waiting other countries to do laundry for India. And with PM going for medical leave for another month have thrown the issue of Mumbai attacks forever into trash bin.

People here are more sensitive to save so called secularism than the safety and honour of India & Indians even if it means the burial of whole country by the hands of Islamic terrorism. Here enough is never enough. We are once again ready for another attack at another place. This is what spineless creatures are worth of. Our defence and home ministries should be re fabricated for writing dialogues in Hindi cinema. DRDO, ISRO and Ordinance factories should stop producing all these missiles or tanks and should start mass production of Ashok Chakra to be presented to Indians posthumously on every republic day. Because there will be no stopping on such award ceremonies ever.

Come on Jihadis come on ! We are again ready to be humiliated and killed by your holy hands.

Bye 2008 !

As pages of city edition of my newspaper are filled with the advertisements for the parties on the eve of New Year celebrations, there are also news of people & institutions who are not celebrating this year cause of Mumbai terror attacks.

Attacks, invasions or terrorism are not new for India. Starting 325 BC by Alexander, hundreds of different invaders crossed the borders of India till now. If to talk of Independent India, within 60 days of Independence we were attacked by Pakistan in October 1947. We have fought four wars since then and fighting indirect war of terrorism for more than two decades. But something is different this time. What's is that?

Indians are up against terrorism this time. Unlike their usual behaviour, they are refusing to forget and forgive. Large amount of Indians are still carrying utter taste of attack even after a month. We like it or not but a war like situation is there in the air. For the first time in history, Pakistan is appealing for peace. Amid the various crisis, India seems to be standing with head held high. There are many signs (which we could not see just like Bruce Nolan in Bruce Almighty) pointing towards the rise of Indians and of India.

Celebrations or no celebrations but all I pray for is, no Indian should ever let this wound of attack heel. Cause if we did, we will have to face & bear much more new wounds. Whatever we do, we should never let interests of India off from our view. Every pride or fall of our nation should be our personal pride or fall. This torch of nationalism should never die down and we all will see the predictions of Maharishi Arvind and calculations of Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam come true.

I wish the start of India's era by the end of that year and end of our plight by the start of this year. I wish an endless start of wonderful time for all of us and above all for our loving India.

Afterthoughts of Aftermath !

No, I am not scared, I am not afraid of those terrorists or their unexpected bomb blasts. But yes, I am angry, I am very very furious .

Since 26th November midnight I kept glued to my TV, switching to different news channels, watching shamefully that blood boiling act of Jihadis. I saw those young terrorists roaming around in railway station and those who were in police van firing indiscriminately at Indians. I listened to one terrorist who called up a news channel and kept repeating his motives and motivations. I did not want to listen him, but I did, I wanted to snatch his words and gave him fitting reply but I couldn't. I wanted to crush him under my heel but I couldn't. I shamefully saw the fire in Taj, blasts in Trident, cries of various people trapped in the situation for long sixty hours. I am so ashamed that I could do nothing to protect my country, my home. I still feel so helpless that despite watching news I could not do anything.

Despite flooding with anger, frustration, provoked thoughts and counter plans, I could not write a single word since that day till now. I have always argued to people who criticise India or its system. Even agreeing to them in a corner of my heart I always pretended to oppose them as I never can support criticism of my loving country. I always hated people who say they don't like here, they don't like the system of this country or they don't wanna live here. I always tried to shut their mouths and if possible shut my links with such persons. But today, I feel like saying myself, "I am ashamed of being Indian". The reason? I think, had I been the citizen of US, there would have some value of my life. Someone would have taken avenge for my blood. But here in India there is never an "Aar ya Paar" thing but only words, words and mere words. Sometimes I think what in world should our enemies do that our government take some real strong steps? What is this world could be the sheerest slap on our face that we got up with rage and say now its enough? What on this earth can be the deadliest attack on our Nation that our leadership shout back that either we will take revenge or let the Indians be eliminated once for all?

Sadly, our enemies have tried everything, let it be the four invasions, decades long terrorism, lakhs of dead Indians, countless blasts, dozens of assassinations, attack on assemblies or even parliament, hijacking Indians planes, getting their arrested leaders released, freely roaming around and having capabilities of planting bomb anywhere anytime, they could not make blood boil of any of our leaders (irrespective of any political party) in these sixty years. Seems like our leaders never had any blood in there veins.

Now, when smoke is clearing in Mumbai, Indian government has performed its custom of issuing warnings, some resignations have been written and new promises have been made, Mumbai is getting back on its track like they say of its so called 'spirit'. Prevailing of normalcy can be seen by the revolt of Narayan Rane. The stray street dogs who were stunned and hiding with the impact of sudden blasts are now normal and have resumed barking and fighting over a piece of bone in the trash bin on the road.

The images of this terror attacks are now travelling in the world. Each picture shakes me up. Since 26th, my anger is holding back my tears within myself. But I don't wanna cry, I will not cry. I want to keep this salty water save in myself. I don't want to waste it. I am moved with the awakening of common Indian. I am touched and delighted with the movement of every Indian heart this time. I am happy that senses of common Indian people are live and that at least their blood is boiling. I am praying to God that please don't let that awakening die by the passage of time, I wish every Indian will not let these images fade off their hearts ever. Because if we Indians will keep this fire burning in our hearts, no one on this earth can eliminate us. No Jihadi can terrorise us. We will charge back at them with full force no matter how many bullets enter our chests or of our beloved ones. We will torn these rats apart.

After failing of our system, its time now to stand ourselves and protact our beloved India ourselves. I am still optimist, I still listen to my heart who is saying, " I am proud to be an Indian" !

Moveable God !

Sometimes for a change I play pool at yahoo games. At games I hardly involve in chatting but many a times other person seems cordial and we start chatting while playing. Yesterday too, I went to yahoo games after a long period, after couple of games I joined a table for a new game with new person. For some moments game went on silently and then the other person started talking and I responded while playing. Here are the exact words we two shared.

ABCD: Hello!
ME: Hi!
ABCD: asl please
ME: 34 m India, n u?
ABCD: 23 f usa (I am not sure he/she was telling truth or no but I think it was lie)
ABCD: r u Hindu?
ME: yup, u seems to know a lot bout India or u r the one?
ABCD: no, I am half American and half Italian
ME: Nice
ABCD: I attended classes on religion and read about all the main religions of world.
ABCD: pagwan !
ME: That sounds interesting (I was genuinely interested in her/his talks) and I think you meant by ‘Bhagwan’ :) !
ABCD: so you worship statue?
ME: (Feeling her real curious about Hinduism I thought of giving my best try to satisfy her curiosity) "Hinduism is very vast and wide way of living apart from religion, there is no restriction, you can worship any foam of God, be it a statue or as infinite."
ABCD: But one who can’t move itself, how can it help you?
ME: (I was surprised at his/her attitude) Religion and especially Hinduism is too large topic to be discussed here. (And to diversify the topic I said…) lol, is for you God is meant for help only? (I wrote ‘lol’ just to avoid any heated argument)
ABCD: I think statue and shit is same thing, they can’t move.

I was astonished and then pitying on that person, I could have started arguing about his religion but taking other person as a spoiled kid I remained calm. I was thinking may be that kid has seen some ‘God’ moving in his/her life and that able to move ‘God’ may have taught him to insult other religion.

ABCD: Shoooooooot! Shoooooot! Don’t stop playing!

I was tempted of asking him which God he have seen moving or to ask him of his religion or to tell him about the greatness of Hinduism but on the other hand I knew that he/she is a gone case and was a person of sick mind so decided to remain silent. I didn’t even want to leave in between as a quitter, so I kept playing without any more word for that person.

ABCD: So your ‘pagwan’ is shit.
ABCD: Take my shit and put it ‘in’ your god and worship it, you shit worshippers.

Keeping my patience, I pocketed the black ball to win the game and that person took no time to leave the table.

I lost my interest in any more games and left the room. But I was thinking sadly what provoked that guy? The way that person vomited rubbish, how much idea could he had of any religion and he said he attended religious classes?

I never argue religion with anyone on or off net cause I don’t have to prove anything to anybody and more importantly, ‘Hinduism’ have taught me to respect all the religions. I am not attached to any particular way of worship as I strongly feel God within my heart and soul. But very politely I want to tell such kind of creatures that it is only ‘Hinduism’ in the whole world which gracefully gave shelter and passage to all the religions in India (without worrying how they behaved in return) and it is the only Hinduism which was never involved in any kind of Crusade or holy wars or to capture or convert others like all the major religions of rest of the world and cultures. Any person of healthy mind cannot deny that apart being the oldest religion, Hinduism is very polite, tolerant, forbearing, enduring, and full of freedom.

No doubt my endurance with that sick person was cause of Hinduism only. My request for such creatures: "Please wear this batch always!"

Punjabi Jutti

Earlier days among my other passions, one was Punjabi Jutti (footwear). Whenever I visited my father’s native village in Punjab, buying atleast one pair of this traditional footwear used to be a compulsory ritual. I was really passionate about these hand made beaded shoes.

Whenever I could not visit the village, I used to send a drawing of my foot for size as this footwear didn’t carry any size numberings. All the work was done manually in the family of these shoemakers. Surprisingly this footwear have no left-right sides, these shoes adopt their positions themselves with the passage of time of usage. Initially, if the wearer is not used to these kinds of shoes, he/she have to bear a little biting too. I too have proudly bore many blisters caused by these jutties. Wearing jutties always produced a sense of proud in me. My cousins in village used to wonder why I gave so much importance to these shoes as they always wanted to wear modern sports shoes. But for me this traditional wear was a reason of ecstasy and a feeling of importance.

I spent a handsome amount of my savings on collection of these shoes. Available in different colors and styles, each pair had a unique statement to present. These shoes have one another great specialty, specialty of producing very dramatic cracking sound while walking. No doubt the wearer feels a sense of style when heads turn around to watch such possessions. Not only for myself, I can’t forget a gorgeous pair of feet wearing such beautiful jutties presented by me.

In these days of globalisation, where everything is available everywhere, such possessions have lost their sparkles. You can’t have that joy nowadays, what I had in those days, while visiting village of such shopping or waiting impatiently for someone to bring those craftsmanship for me.

These Days !

Something is missing somewhere? Something is lost. Someone needs to solve that riddle. May be a competent Guru is required! But finding a real Guru is again something most difficult job to perform.

What to do, where to go, the question remains unanswered again.

'Watch' It !

In early 90’s, in my college days, I used to get my shining black Royal Enfield serviced from a particular mechanic on much disciplined schedule. He used to regard me a lot and money for his services was never an issue among us. Many times he would refuse charging me anything, many times he would ask me to keep his fee with me safe only for his emergency time and many times he would ask me (and usually would get) for some money for his ‘half’ of whisky without any account. But story I am telling today is not of that mechanic but about something else.

The ‘workshop’ of that mechanic was so small that it consists only two hand held tool kits and one stool for himself and he used to sat outside a spare parts shop. While every service I had to buy some spares from that shop and the shopkeeper was very shrewd and used to charge too much for even cheep spare taking advantage of his only shop in that area. Being an experienced bike owner, at every purchase I used to insist him for genuine prices as I was very much aware of the prices and brands of the spares but he would simply not listen to me. I never liked his attitude and always advised my mechanic to shift his place to somewhere else.

One day there was some extra repair had to be done to my bike and some parts to be replaced. In the evening, when I went to collect my bike after repairs, while settling the account of spares I noticed some prices charged unnecessarily and other too high than actual rates. Though I filed with irritation but I had decided not to say a word. While checking his hand written bill, I saw that the shopkeeper had made mistake while calculating the amount and had wrongly written lesser total than actual. The difference was of around Two hundred fifty Rupees which may sound tiny amount today but it was a decent figure in 90’s and that too for a college student like me. The wrong calculations of that shopkeeper brought a smile on my face and I thought, “Here comes the judgement day”. For a minute a sense of honesty came to my mind and impelled me to correct his mistake but my disliking for his attitude stopped me immediately and ordered me to take advantage of his mistake. I paid his lesser calculated amount to him and inside my ego was bit satisfied by giving a slap of two hundred fifty rupees to that cunning shopkeeper.

Few days later, I had to visit a marriage function of a friend in a remote village. I along some other friends drove in my car to the nearest road around 60 Km from my town and then we had to walk uphill around two kilometers above the road to reach that village. Though we reached the village easily and enjoyed the marriage party, we faced great difficulty returning back downward on that trek. Trek was too narrow and was turned very slippery cause of the fallen needles like leaves of deodar trees. Some of us slipped and fell very dangerously including me. Luckily no one was hurt badly.

Next day while getting ready for college I saw my wrist watch was missing. “I surely have dropped that watch when I fell on that trek”, I thought while rubbing a small bruise on my left wrist and after uselessly searching entire home for my watch. Damn, it was Titan Fast track and I really loved my watch. I felt too bad for the loss. All the day in the college, I remained engulfed in bad mood and kept thinking of my watch. “You tried to be very smart buddy by saving two hundred and fifty bucks, now enjoy the party, your seven hundred rupees worth watch is gone”, my conscience started bothering me now. I felt like a defeated soldier with injured body and crushed ego. I had no answer.

On the way back home from college, I stopped at the same spare parts shop and went to shopkeeper. I handed him two hundred fifty rupees and told him that I checked the total at home and found his mistake. While handing over the money to him I expected a genuine thank-you gesture from him filled with greatness towards me but that creeper showed no such sign, put the money in chest and got busy in his business. I stand there for a second and then left his counter filled with rage for him once again.

“What was the use of this stupidity”, it was now my hurt ego’s turn to drill me. “You already had lost your watch and now you have thrown more money into waste, and that too for such a thankless person. Be shrewd, man! Who gives a shit to sincerity and honesty these days? Stop acting foolish anymore now”, my ego preached me. I spent a restless night that evening.

Is the story over? For me, yes it was. I was left with a bitter lesson and an expensive one, no doubt. But still the lesson was not a clear mandate for me. Even then I was not sure who won that battle of ego and conscience. My conscience kept assuring me that I should have return his money unaffected by his attitude or thanklessness and on the other hand my brain kept suggesting me that when he never gave a fair deal to you how come he deserve a fair deal from you? Loosing the watch was just a coincident.

It was the day, when my friend visited my home back from his village after his marriage. He brought sweets for my family members and for me, he had something special. My fast track. One of the guests in their function spotted the watch and asked everyone present there. My friend recognized that it was mine and brought it back.

I smiled from the depth of my heart. And someone else was smiling too, 'my conscience'.

How to be Logical ?

Why do we dream? Why do we desire?

Dreaming and desiring for the expensive most cars or a beautiful private beach house on the world's best exotic locations is understandable and also achievable today or tomorrow but desiring for moon or stars? Is it sheer stupidity to dream for stars? (Here mentioning moon & stars I meant by almost impossible targets) Is this is immature and childish act? Do mature people not dream or desire? Whom to listen, heart or brain? Or can anyone decide and select the ratio of advice to be adopted from both of heart and brain? R says, "We need to grow up" and I am asking the same question, " Don't grown ups have dreams in the layers of their aged, experienced and matured hearts”? I think only the depth and area changes among an adult and child's dream and rest remains the same. Even when we know that no one on this earth can own moon but still we dream and desire and imagine.

Is it possible to be calculative or to be logical always? Without dreaming or imagination can we last long on this planet as a human? I think that is one of the various factors which creates difference among human and animal heart. The fight of brain and heart is always there. But whom do we listen? A wallet full of money lying unattended on the road spotted by us could buy some happiness, but we listen to our heart who says this is not your.

I wonder how people can divert their mind and heart. I simply can't. I find this very difficult to lure my thoughts from the point it has stuck to some other point.

The Gopies of Varindavan had heavenly affection for Shri Krishan and when Lord shifted to Dawarika for states affairs, in his absence all the Gopies fell down to gloom and heart brokenness. Hearing this, Krishana sent his courtier and friend Udhav to make Gopies understand. Udhav tried to convince Gopies telling them that country and society need Lord more than Gopies and that now Gopies should divert their minds to somewhere else. Then sad and furious Gopies replied to Udhav in the words filled with pain, उद्धव, मन ना भयो दस बीस, एक हो सो गयो श्याम संग, को आराधे ईस ।

So tell me my heart, what to do now?

Help Me Prabhu !

Hurdles, hurdles and more hurdles. Nothing seems to be working in my favour past many months. Every this and that, which I had expected to be gone through smoothly for me, have been flown into ashes in front of my eyes. Problems and failures are like chasing and then embracing me with full force.

If I have to glance through positive lenses, there are few achievements too but I know there were some certain, sure shot & essential successes which blasted off on my face hurting me inside badly. Everybody seems to be on opposite side. And this is not at all an illusion. I have seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. Number of unforeseen and unexpected barriers has mushroomed in my way forcing me to change the route. But all the routs seem to be closed for me as off now. I have already faced a lot and I have no idea how much more is still waiting.

But here I wanna pat my back also. I have faced all the problems while standing tall and not kneeling down. I know I am alone standing against all the odds and there are couples of eyes watching me with their faiths and hopes to see me merging out as a winner. There are few who have prayed for me. I know I am not going to loose their faith. I will not let problems take me over. I still have so much of courage left to face these and much more if any. I won’t lie down, I won’t break and I won’t give up. All these problems are going to make me more strong and more powerful. That is for sure.

Just help me Shri Prabhu!

What is Life ?

He was a nationalist, had given almost all of his life for the upliftment of this country. A part time writer, who had written around half a dozen books mostly containing issues belonging to our nation. An intellectual who could speak, read and write at least five languages. But even then very far from name and fame.

In 1995, he was on Himachal tour for a week and I had to perform as his driver. I was college student then and a very good driver (which I think still I am). On the way to interior Himachal, in one town our night arrangement was made at a local house. The owners of that house were joint family members who had a boy of my age doing his CA that time in their family. The room of this boy was arranged for the writer. The room was an ordinary room with very little furniture. There was a notepad hanging just above a study table in that room. The facing page of that notepad was blank when the room was occupied by that writer.

The next morning after breakfast, when we were ready for the journey of that day to another place, I had to enter that room to get something from the study table. I again looked at the notepad hanging above there. The facing blank page was no more blank. There was some scribbling in Hindi on it which could be translated as, “Life is a bridge, we have to cross it and not to sit on it.” No name was mentioned who wrote this but I knew.

Question is, do we take our life as a bridge or we keep dying everyday to live forever on that bridge?

Give Me A Break !

Enough is enough ! I am very tired now. I need a break. Past couple of months it was (it still is) such hectic and exhausting period over business front that I think I desperately needs to sit down for a while and recollect my breath.

It was six months back when I had two days holidays in May at Renukaji, but these holidays were not the like I always wanted my holidays to be. The real one was now almost a year back in January when we trekked Jalorijot Pass.

I am missing mountains and the icy cooled rivers. I need to walk in the dense woods. I am missing the long tiring trek in steep hilly terrains and the joy of watching down at earth from a hill top. The exotic misty jungle scented air is still afresh deep inside my mind. I need to inhale that air again. Wandering around a sea shore sounds like superb idea too. The last time I walked bare footed on a lonely beach was damn long seventeen years back (Oh my God! Seventeen ? I never realised that till now). The list of places-must-visit is getting long and long and overdue. Long standing desire of buying a SLR camera has started pinching now.

But when ? Whew ! When? Question remains unanswered.

Just closing my eyes and imagining myself sitting at a stone up there on a hilltop cliff watching a hawk maneuvering on winds with it's wings open like inviting you for a hug. Don't wake me up!