Long distances we have flown

Crossing Mountains, rivers and oceans wide

Always with the group, one is never alone

We help each other, to save energy - we glide!

On our strengths we work, weakness none

We eat what we need, the rest we shun!

We live in harmony, different from you humans

We don't need inspirations, nor roses or guns!

We want to wish for you a world without hate and greed

A world of togetherness, with every kind and creed!

WHO AM I?

Everyday a question sits

Awaiting an answer from somewhere

A quest that began years ago

Do I have the answer yet?

Running races on different lanes

Living lives on colored planes

I look up at the heavens above

And yet again the question comes – Who am I?

 Deep inside a hidden need,

Secrets & lives; that are full of deeds!

Lessons to be learnt, stars to be earned,

The answer still evades – Who am I?

  

Having lives the many lives

Crossed oceans in many high tides

The numerous peaks I may have climbed

Deafening sound of the question fills my mind – who am I?

  

As time goes by more questions rise - What am I looking for?

What am I here for?

Will there be a moment so divine,

Where I find my answer to – ‘Who am I?’

Time Marches On...

Time Marches On...


It’s been on my mind for a while, but I was procrastinating writing them down!
This morning, a usual Sunday morning, I sat listening to one of my favourite- Tracy Lawrence. In all his numbers, what caught my attention was the track “Time marches on…”. And there it was!A smile across my face, like a flash right in front were the years that have gone by and memories sweet & sour. Time really had marched on! Memories of us all in school uniform, Khaki bags- the old military bags, kept in a long winding line. From far it would look like a long brown Python enjoying the morning sun!

The boys played and we girls stood aside making small talks – topics? Well, difficult to recollect. We would wait for the school bus. The rush & the push began at the sight of the chocolate cream coloured outline at a distance.
“ Bus aa rehee hai…”( The bus is arriving!) would be a shout from someone who first spotted the bus. At the door of the bus would be Gopalji one of the many assistants – we called him “Conductor ji”. He was famous as he would say “Bus Chho baaje aayegee.” ( Bus would arrive at 6 o clock). There used to be an unnecessary emphasis on the “Chho” !

As I moved backwards in time, I recollect having a routine and busy evening, after school. Unlike most children today, who spend time in front of the TV or young girls who hang around chatting, we were a rather active bunch! Back from school at 4 p.m., barely had the time to kick off our shoes, a quick wash & grab some food, we were out of our houses to play for a clear two hours. No one wanted to get home before the street lights came on! That meant it was 6pm & time to go home, Buddy.

The games we played? Oh! there were so many, the simple Hopskotch with its mutations – the 8, 6 or 9 blocks! All had different rules! Then the boys joined in to play, the games changed to a Football, a Hide & Seek, a “Gulli Danda” or a “Pitto” - a game with seven stones & a tennis ball. How it hurt when someone hit you with the ball! OOuch!

The streets, rather lanes, would resound with the screams of Victory! And sometimes the boys would get into fist fights! I used to be very scared of that! All of this formed the DNA of our childhood & am sure it was more or less the same for us all across India!

Often wondered, 'where are these friends, ones from the school, then college and some friends I made during my career journey?' There were so many names that would come back & forth and so many an incident that would bring a smile on my face. And when my brother & I sat down talking, we would exchange notes on some stories we could recollect. Each time wondered where were these people!

As if like a magic, technology answered our questions. The networking sites- an Orkut,a Ryze probably some of the first of its kind. Heard of it but did not log in. Then came Facebook. O My God! Here they were! All those lost friends of mine – year on year, almost all of them were right in here! The world suddenly became so small, distances reduced, I feel as if I can hear them talk! In some cases – it was just a call away!


And even as Time Marches , we remain connected! Thanks to technology once again - Its now a truly small world!

Those were the days my friend… ‘The Telephone’

It was one of our chatting sessions that we landed into discussion on how depended we have become on the mobile & the transformation that has happened over the years on the once existing simple telephone!

Today one gets to hear about so many forms  & the youngsters are in competition to own the latest gadgette.

I recollect, when we were children, if one had a phone at home, it was a matter of pride! The heavy, black, frog like instrument – the P&T phone! 

Like all other ‘precious things at home – the radio from Murphy, the Gramophone from HMV; this too found itself decorated by a carefully woven ‘crochet’ cover. Usually of the white thread, although some homes had fancy designs on it.

The features- the look of the phone – Black, heavy, huge for our small hands those days, small circles cut out which displayed the numbers.  Not to forget that one could also lock the dial!  My uncle, a doctor, would lock his phone to stop us playing pranks! It would require a lot of strength in our little fingers to turn the dial & get it to swing back in its place… It sure was fun!

The cords too were different, they were made from a cloth like material wrapped around the wire. In some, due to high wear & tear, one could see the cord with a crumple cover waiting to break free!

The telephone generated avenues for income too.  Apart from the so obvious revenue earned by the P&T,  cleaning the instrument to keep it black & shinny; a young lady would visit us once in 15 days… or was it once a month, I quite don’t recollect. She would clean & stuff a small piece of cotton with a nice smelling liquid into the receiver! What an experience it used to be, to use a freshly cleaned, aromatic telephone!

We also recollected the occasions of making a ‘trunk call’. One had to book a call through an operator if you wished to speak to folks in other cities! The operator with an emotionless voice would tell you that it was 2 to 3 minutes and would connect you through. I would always wonder that she has heard the entire conversation – oh no! and she would keep butting in stating ‘your time booked for the call is getting over. Do you wish to extend?’ What a hurry it used to be for the series of speakers who wished to connect. Am sure it used to be the same on the other end too! The loud ‘Hello’ could be heard almost down the lane – I used to wonder why we speak so loud, almost scream I should say! High pitch, hurried movement were symptoms of trunk calls! And all the calls were book after 10 pm. Lower rates – the benefit of speaking to all the members for a few minutes more! In some families the order of the speakers would be formed – 1^st the eldest, then the next and then the next and so on so forth. So by the time the young ones got to speak to their favourite aunt or uncle – the time was up! Crying at this unfair deal, the child would sob to sleep.

Ah!  not to forget the ‘PP’ concept which came in a few years later. You were one of the fortunate to have a phone at home & one could connect directly from home. Then came the progressive times when the operator was done away with & one could dial the number directly! Here the neighbour – the less fortunate ones;  gave your number to their relatives to connect when required. You had the responsibility to call them when a call came for them. The calls would come while the family was on the dinner table and lo behold the whole neighbours family were in your sitting room answering the call ! You would sit & wonder how long would these conversations last! For the neighbour, I always got a feeling that it was more like an outing – pre or post dinner, depending on what was their dinner time.

Almost at the same time was the mushrooming of the STD booth at every nook & corner of streets. These were also  another opportunity to earn. I recollect in Kolkata, many young boys and old ‘dadus’ ( Grandpa’s) sat at the STD booths.  What I also recollect were the long winding lines outside the booths. One would need a lot of patience to keep standing, waiting for your turn. And just in case the person inside took a long time, laughed & joked to the other side, the climatic conditions outside would see the movement from an amber to a red! The rumbling, mumbling would slowly start – “How long will he talk? , We are also waiting?’ etc. In Kolkata the lines would be in Bengali of course!

The progress in connectivity was so fast in the last decade, the advent of the Mobile phone completely changed the country! To add to this difference, we saw the same service providers bring in broadbands which also brought in the change in the landlines. Telephone installed in 24hrs ! This was an unbelievable in the past! Not to forget the cosmetics of the phone, Sleek, colourful, with CI flashing and so many other features getting plugged in!

Every individual, is connected! This is only one aspect of change that has swept the life of an average Indian. A mobile is no more a matter of luxury! This generation is born with an iPhone and the dexterity to use any gadget at their disposal! I learn from these kids the functioning of these devices – Would love to call it reverse coaching! 

Raindrops & Memories

Raindrops & memories

Month of May ! Summer has set in and Bangalore has never been so warm, even a few years back! The mornings are pleasant but as the day grows... Weather is changing! 

There is something nice about summers- the 4o'clock rains! So typical in a tropical country and of course in most equatorial parts! The dark rain clouds ; Cumulonimbus; cover the blue sky which looked so dry till about a few minutes ago...and the downpour begins!

Big drops of rain, the skies burst open with lightening, the roaring sound follows! The sound of thunder echos across the cloud laden skies and the lightening flash their ugly streaks cutting across the dark clouds.. Sometime they are red! one could weave a story to keep a child quiet!

Swaying tree tops, chattering sound on the tilled roofs and the skylights- the music goes on!

A little away from our apartment is a lake that has a stretch of swampy land.The white Pond Herons share their experiences sitting in the rains! We call this species 'Bok' in Bengali. Rabindranath Tagore has written a song that comes to my mind - ' Megher Kole Kole jai jey choley Boker paati...' ; against the dark clouds flies across a team of Herons! 

I am reminded of my childhood in Jamshedpur - Summer vacations, no school, only  a few pages of homework to be done - mom's rules... but parents usually didn't mind if we missed doing these till we hit the senior school! We had a big garden and lots of big fruit trees - Mangoes, 'Cheeku' and of course Guava trees... Below each tree would be line of circular brick forms to ensure water stays! Little Sparrows and Mynas would often take a bath in there during these summer afternoons! 

My brother & I would put on a central tree - a rudimentary bird feeder - A coconut shell with grains for them.... ! We would watch from our window the series of events and try and figure out if ' this bird was here yesterday... or was it the other ....'

Then as the 4 o'clock rains started... and the hailstones fell, we would be excited and run to get our colorful umbrellas- run to collect the hailstones form our big lawn ! Ah and also a few small green Mangoes that would come off the branch  as it swayed in the rains!

I also recollect playing , being the Frog!.. What fun it used to be... Each house had those big black umbrellas, they were the only ones that could stand such heavy rains! The fancy ones were still not in...  We had 3 big Umbrellas - the biggest was one that could contain my brother & I ... I used to call it 'Dadur Chata' - 'Grandpas Umbrella'. We would sit under it outside in the rains and pretend we were frogs! Big drops of rain, the big protective umbrella and our smiles!

So many simple things that brought us such joy - the sound of rains, the paper boats that we raced in the narrow garden drain around our house, the biting into the green mangoes and making my brother run into the house to get some salt...Life was so simple and our wants to few !

( Picture - Herons in the Rain near the lake in our locality)

As I watch the rains drenching & quenching the thirsty mother earth, memories flood in and I sit sipping a hot cup of tea....

As my heart cries in pain...

The news took me behind by at least 15 years! 1995; a year i will never forget ! A year that made me grow into a more responsible woman !

I lost my dad; my friend, my guide, my role model, forever!

May 27th 1995, was the end of all the pain that he was going through. The pain that one can't spell out, a pain that is caused by one of the most feared diseases - yes, Cancer! A fast failing health since Jan 1995, but the fighter spirit kept him going for a few months more.

My dad was always active & fit. He had played football in his younger days, represented the Indian Railways and had played against one of the big clubs in West Bengal. His was a Centre Forward position in the field! He also played Tennis with equal skill!

He was someone who was disciplined & believed in "Simple living & high thinking". We heard this so many times when we were young and the world around us was changing fast! He was a man of commitment both in professional sphere & of course in his personal life. He was caring & respectful and life had not been very easy with him. He lost his dad; my grand dad, in the early years and had to put in a lot of effort to move up in his career and balance family responsibilities.

I saw my dad slowly get into confinement; first he stopped driving on his own, then, would just walk to the nearby shops to get small stuff for home, the movement got limited to within our flat in Kolkata and finally to his room & bed! He looked so helpless at times that I really wished there was some way I could help!

He had stopped reading, saying he didn't "feel like". Little did he know that I understood his weakening vision.

On very high dosage of medication to reduce the pain, he would still smile & say " ka karen duty par jana hai"

My dad , a proud man, a man who was always independent in thought, word & action, cried quietly in immense pain ! A pain so deep that one could never imagine its impact just by looking at this smiling, 5ft 11inch tall frame!

We chatted over evening cups of tea, he still " made decisions for the house", that's how he put it, still advised me on my career & studies, shared his experiences of the pre -independence days -1946 ;while he was in college R K mission in Belur and so many more events !

All the symptoms told me that he was reaching a point of no return & so fast that one could never imagine! It was only in the month of April , the last week, when the doctor treating him looked sad & worried.

I heard muffled crying deep at night, the pain must have been unbearable. In the morning he would again smile a "good morning" ,as we had tea together. God, I really wished there was a better way!

Today, my first cousin brother - Collin, as we fondly call him, is going through tremendous pain as he has been diagnosed for Cancer ! He too is a fighter and is a courageous & positive fellow. I have very fond memories of our childhood, during our visit to Delhi in 1973 and then when he spent summer vacation with us in Jamshedpur.

My writing today is a prayer for Collin, a quick recovery ,for his health, for strength & courage that he needs & we all need as a family.

Parrots in Distress!

( Picture taken from my Balcony on 23rd Aug morning)

Is it team work or a simple 'save the fraternity?'
Monday morning on the 23rd of August,as I sat sipping my hot cup of tea and reading the newspaper, the sudden increase in the decibels of chirping of birds caught my attention. Since it was a holiday for Onam, there was no hurry.
Stepping out, I saw at least 6 long tailed , green bodied, red beaked flying creatures!
Yes, there were so many Parrots – an unusual sight !
Even if I didn’t know the Parrot language, I could make out that there were reasons enough for the Panic!
They were flying all over the place, trying to peep into a narrow crack between the two apartment buildings across my verandah. What was wrong ? My curious self took over !
I saw the bigger of the birds, balancing on the parapet and peek into the crack! The others were squealing in panic as if crying out for help! There was a little parrot stuck in there!
Oh God , This was an area unaccessible to us without a scafolding and that at this time, was impossible!
They never gave up! Flew from one end to the other as if assuring each other and the little one “ Don’t worry , we are all there ! Everything will be fine!”
The Mynahs, who are the original residents of the place, and deftly move in & out of that little space, were also there, watching helplessly!
I stood, with my camera, clicking away & praying for their success!
I could feel their panic – these lovely creatures, some perched on the telephone wire, a lone fella , on the balcony of a flat, as if wondering ‘what will happen?’ They were trying out all tricks- placing & pushing with their red beaks into the cement, hanging from a higher place and so many other moves!
Strangely, the two big dogs in the apartment above kept them company! These are the most noisy fellows otherwise! Barking at the slightest disturbance! I guess they understood that these beautiful ones were facing a crisis! They held on to the balcony looking down silently – as if to say “ wish we could help!”
This was for almost an hour! They were able to get the little one out of the crack!
I found the zeal amazing,the honest attempts, the team work, their “never say die” attitude!
I reinforced my learning on life once again! Give a quiet support and never give up!
Life as they say is the biggest teacher!

Voice of the Hibiscus

( A Hibicus flower from my pot garden-stages of bloom)
It was only this morning, when I woke up,I heard her voice – came close to me with her tea cup
“Ah! Ma another beauty to bloom today!”
Her eyes bright, excitement in her voice, Yellow!, My color, has always been her choice.
‘Click’ went her camera, she caught me permanently in,

Its early hours, chirping of the birds, the morning air so thin.
“ Don’t pluck this flower!” came the stern instruction from her,

She turned to look at me, a smile, only for me , as soft as fur!
‘Bloom dear one, I love you so, Lets have each day brighter than before.’
Then the birds came in and the Sun rose in the bright blue sky,

I stretched a little more –peering to see the world, raising myself to a greater high!.
Must have been an hour or two, she was back, oh how I love her too!
I wish she could hear me say “Good morn, my life Is short- only a day; that begins with the dawn”
I saw her eyes; bright with the smile, ‘Click’ went the camera for a second time!
“Will I see this flower in full bloom?” – I could read her mind;

She didn’t want to leave me ,for a whole day,behind.
I have another hour before for work she leaves,

I’ll be gone when she returns, my life is so brief!
I saw her sad eyes at this very thought,

She loves us all – in her small garden, her mother has taught!
Just as I pushed myself and bloomed to my fullest best,

In the dinning hall, the clatter of plates & spoons were put to rest.
“Ma! look at the bloom", I heard her shout, all so proud like a little boy scout!
‘Click’ went her camera , I swayed in happiness & glee, At last I’m done and now am free!
The whole day I shall spend looking up at the sun,

Listening to the birds, Watch them have all the fun!
My friend will be back, as the day closes & the evening draws its curtain
‘Come back again,O beautiful Hibiscus’ she will say , I’m so certain
With a heavy heart as we bid goodbye, I said -'This my friend, is the cylce of life – Please don’t cry!'

Circus!

( Pictures from Gemini & Jumbo circus)

It was our usual Sunday connect to the US. My 6 yr old nephew Aayush, was narrating his experience at the Circus that he had been to over the weekend. His voice had the excitement of what he saw!
My brother then piped in,“ its not like what it used to be in our days, you know.”
My thoughts raced, as if on a F1 track, but the difference was, I just went backwards! Probably could have given Michael Schumacher a run for his money!
How exciting it would be, when Dad told us that if we were good for the week and did all our homework and listened to Ma, then he would take us all to the Circus. The Names that come to my mind are – Gemini Circus, Imperial Circus, Jumbo Circus, Empire Circus and I also recollect there was a Russian Circus that had come to perform at Jamshedpur. Each year there would be a different one!
It used to be a matter of prestige if we hadn’t seen the Circus and would be like an outcast in the friends circuit. “Tumneh abhi bhi Circus nahi dekha? Main ney to dekh liya!” (“You haven’t yet seen the circus ? I have already seen it), was the dialog from the changing group leaders- sometimes it used to be Bablu – now in the Army and sometimes my best friend Dollu.
The Circus was always very exciting! Sometime Dad would get the tickets in advance and sometime we would wait in the long line to the ticket counter. These were made of tin sheds- temporary structures, on the big “maidan” (grounds) – Golmuri Maidan. This was one of our bigger grounds in Jamshedpur.
As we got nearer to the Maidan, the smell of animals would make our nose twitch and a small smile would appear on our faces. “Bagher Gondho” (Smell of the Tiger!) would be my brother’s little voice, as we held each other’s hand in a tight clasp. My brother & I would exchange glances – eyes bright & slowly the smile spreading to the eyes!
Inside the tent, the chairs were made of tin, the folded ones and were arranged in circular fashion row by row, elevated by wooden plank to give a feel of an amphitheatre. We were really not bothered about all these fineries! Our eyes wide open, were focused on the round stage and we looked around for any sign of a Tiger, Lion or even a Parrot! All other children around us were equally excited and we could hear squeals and the hushes as the live band played to announce the start of the show. Oh yes, there were show timings! The tickets probably cost us Rs15 – Rs20 per person those days! I don’t quite recollect and honestly not that we were really bothered about the cost… Dad was there to take care of all that!
Everything was so colourful, the Joker came along with almost every trick that was shown. Yes, there used to be two of them, One, the tall chap and the other who was a Dwarf! They beat each other up once in a while; the shorter fellow would climb on to a stilt and tease the tall fellow. I recollect the crowd going into splits of laughter!
As the band played, the pretty girls came on to the stage riding bicycles or sometime with a Bear; to perform their tricks! I always wondered whether the animal could really understand her language! I would later try these with a stray dog I had picked up to keep as pet. His name was “Bumpy”. I had fought with my Gandmom to keep him at home! I remember we had a major negotiation – I could keep him provided he was kept in the Verandah outside the main house! Finally peace was declared!
Animal rights were not to strong those days and there would be lots of tricks using Elephants, Tigers and Lions. The Ring Master would be inside the Cage, snapping his whip and shouting at the Lion to jump into the ring of fire! You could hear the roar – a reluctant big cat would then jump through the burning ring!
The big Cats roared and I still recollect having a terrified feeling – “what if the Lion jumps out of the cage?” A question I had asked my Dad quietly during one such occasion. I remember him holding me close and saying – “Na, they have been given ‘Afeem’ ( a medicine- as understood by me then) and they won’t be able to come this side.” I remember sitting very close to him throughout the Tiger, Lion show! What a reassurance of safety we have with parents around! Amazing trust!
The Trapeze act would always be amazing! How people would swing across and the co-ordination! Girls and Boys both would be so accurate- of course the Joker would try his hand too and the obvious would be – his great fall and landing on the net stretched below!
We used to feel bad when the Trapeze started off – as it would be the last game of the show. The insatiable appetite to see and want more fun was, I guess, every child’s dream ! We were no different!
Weeks together would go discussing with friends and the numerous questions to my parents – all the how’s & why’s would need to be answered. My brother had a collection of cars and once we were back home; for some days he would make his cars do the tricks that the Motorcycle rider would do in the round big Ball of Net! Making the zooming noise, he would be at it and then the games would change till the memories came back after our next visit to the Circus- that of course would be only the next year!

The Liberation War -1971

(Picture taken from Google - News clips during the 1971 war)

As I read “Songs of Blood and Sword” written by Fatima Bhutto, I seem to travel back, along the dust filled memory lanes of my childhood. Memories that are not distinct; but still exist. Some sounds, some voices and some experiences that leave behind a funny feeling in the stomach – a feeling of emptiness!
1971, the year that India participated in the war, to get freedom for the people of then East Pakistan - today’s Bangladesh. We were at Jamshedpur – the Steel city. I was very young and my brother – a toddler. I recollect that the factory area was covered with air balloons or were they gas balloons; I’m not too sure. Reason ? the factory was an easy enemy target – especially during Air raids.
I remember Dad, we called him Baba, going to the Steel plant on his scooter, a Vespa. The headlights were half blackened! All vehicles met with the same fate. The air was tense and I had too many questions racing in my mind, creating images of all kinds.
What I distinctly remember was the Bengali radio channel –“Aakash Baani Kolkata” – played a particular song from Rabindranath Tagore’s collection – “ Aamar Sonar Bangla, Aami tomay bhalobashi…” ( O My golden Bengal, I love you), another ‘Bangladesh aamar Bangladesh’ ( My Bangladesh) and a voice that delivered fiery speeches. I don’t remember what he said but recollect being told that it was the voice of Sheikh Mujibur Rehman, the freedom fighter in East Pakistan. Not that these made any sense to me but there definitely had some meaning. I also recollect my Grandmother very seriously reading the Bengali newspaper “Jugantor” and sharing some serious conversations with my parents. I really can’t recollect the content of discussion, but the sounds told me that it must have been about the war!
Ah! What is most vivid is the sound of the screaming Sirens- an experience I don’t think I will ever forget! The moment we heard the screams, we were supposed to switch off all lights and all the houses in the locality, must the city too, would plunge into complete darkness, till the next screaming siren! It was a regular drill that we were put through almost every evening. I don’t recollect the timings, but even today the very thought brings a feeling of emptiness in my stomach. I hate darkness and would be very restless till the lights were switched on. And probably to divert my own attention, I would request my Ma to accompany me in the dark as I wanted to answer the Nature’s call! My Grandmom’s irritated voice would ring through the darkness – “Can’t you wait for a few more minutes?” “No”, would be the indignant reply, as I would stomp across the room towards my destination making the maximum amount of noise possible!
Along with all this is the memory of a Chakravorty family – Mr. Chakravorty worked in the Steel Plant. Baba was his senior colleague and Mr. Chakravorty loved & respected ‘Mukherjee da’- my Dad. Uncle along with his better half ; in the true sense; as she would am sure weigh many more ‘Kgs’ than Uncle; were regular visitors for us. Being mischievous as I was, almost always got my share of reprimand as I recollect telling Ma – “ Guess Kakima( aunty) eats up everything at home and poor Kaku ( Uncle) only smells the plate”. I remember Ma's stern look and voice forbidding me to say 'such' things. And their next visit would make me chuckle at the same though! Incorrigible child!
It was during these times of the ’71 war period that Chakravorty Kaku would remain very worried about his mother & sister who lived in East Pakistan. There were so many stories that we got to hear and I am sure they would reach him too. There were no Mobiles those days and the Telecom was not developed at all. Hence there was the radio and the newspapers that probably gave us all the news. They were the media for the “Aam Janta”
Many years later, I remember Baba sharing that those were tough times and tougher still were the number of questions that I would put forth for him to answer!
An incident that I will never forget is about meeting two unknown ladies in our own Verandah. As I came back from the playground, I recollect seeing these two ladies with the Chakravorty couple. My parents, my Grand mom and the Chakravortys were all seated as if in a round table conference with the “Cha-Nashta” ( Tea with snacks), discussing the ‘Escape’ that these two ladies had from the war-stricken zone. The Ladies were Kaku’s Mom and sister.
Later Ma and my Grand mom had shared how these brave ladies had been. Since they were ‘minorities’ the atrocities were unimaginable. They were able to carry in small bundles only some of the valuable they had and had to leave their home in the cover of darkness! These ladies swam the river Padma, which is Ganga on our side of the country and as it got into Bangladesh is know as Padma. How is this possible! They had reached a refugee camp on the other bank of the mighty river. It is from there that the Indian Army helped them to reach Kolkata safely. Chakravorty Kaku had then brought them to Jamshedpur!
I as write these lines, I don’t know if there were many such families who went through these tormenting times. I recollect hearing the sobs of the younger lady and one can surely say, that it must have been really scary for them both.
I salute the two ladies who had the will power to overcome the difficulties and to survive with honour! Guess these are examples of valour that we, the common people, have displayed time and again.

Questions keep bouncing back – have the situations changed since then? Are we more at peace or are we now living in a world where our eyes, hears have got so used to such incidents, that it does not really matter to us! Is peace going to be just a word in our dictionaries?

Hope for a New Day!

( Image taken while flying to Mumbai)

Dawn of a new day, bright is the light from the Sun!
As I look out of the small window, a sea of clouds remind me of stories I read as a child – Jack and the Beanstalk! The big bad giant who had a hen that laid golden eggs, the Harp that spoke and all the golden coins the giant would steal from the villagers!
The land seems so far that one really cant see anything at all.
The clouds , so pure, so white and the rays of the Sun on them gives them a heavenly look! They seem to travel together in groups, from one land to another, from one country to another like messengers of Love, peace and happiness. As if they speak “ I come from a land where there is no hatred, there is only love, there is only brotherhood”
The Blue sky holds them on its vast chest, yet the freedom to float and travel in a direction they all wish to go! No rules yet so disciplined!
When I am on the ground and look up at the endless blue sky,I have always wondered what would be above the clouds ?
And here I am, above them all to be able to see the boundary less sky – no borders, no divisions at all!
I felt like a bird , rising , scaling heights as if exploring the limits and what I could break !
A journey like a free bird in the bright blue sky – Unnmukht Gagan!

Sweet Memories of a sunday afternoon

A lazy, quiet Sunday afternoon, a sumptuous lunch under a softly whirling fan! On the table; conversations on price rise, recipes, the taste buds tingling as the covers lift and we salivate! Our favourite – Chicken curry ! The wonderful Sunday afternoon Lunch!
We sat, a family relishing the fruits of hard work through the week in our own ways, was reminded of the Hindi saying “Mehenat ka phal Meetha hota hai!”
( sweet are the fruits of labour!) Don’t know if it is the right translation, Anyway!
Its almost an hour, till we all finished and the plates Clean! My Thakuma (Grandmother) and I had a love hate relationship but this is one occasion we were both very supportive. She ate slowly and spoke less! You knew then, the lunch was good! She didn’t know management principles of Praising when things were right! No comments meant great job done!
Cling! clang ! The sound of dishes being put aside, and a grumbling me, who had to clean the table while Ma put the extras aside – oh! who ever invented the Refrigerator! The wonder machine! What a blessing ! The chicken tastes better when eaten later! The thought brought in a smile on my otherwise grumpy face!
The radio played the favourites on “Musical Bandbox”. All those numbers that are today referred to as “Retro music” – a Cliff Richards, a Simon Garfunkel and an Abba! The RJ’s never spoke so much as they do now!
Dad would light his carefully made cigarette… the pouch with fresh tobacco – I loved the smell! A small secret - that I had once tried the art of making the same …. And was caught just before I could strike a light! What an experience! I could tell from one brand to the other – sometimes it was Van Gogh, sometimes a Prince Henry or a Wills ! The logic behind making it so painstakingly was to lessen the number of cigarettes a day! Did it work? Well….
Between the fresh smell of the tobacco, quick plans for the evening were made, hoping that no unexpected, friendly relative with bags full of gossip drop in…. Then, all our plans would be a drop out!
So many such small things come to my mind as a Sunday afternoon goes by now. Like a movie, images of our childhood, voice of Dad, of my dear Thakuma, the aroma of freshly cooked food, the whistle of the cooker and so on.. I live each moment again and a smile crosses my lips and heavy eyelids close down on a silent, much awaited siesta!

Dilli ki Sardi! ( Winter in Delhi)

( January 2010 at Gurgaon, 8:30 am)

I was so frozen stiff that I could get line to rhyme… and hence this form of writing!
Was I dreaming or was it really the sound of my mobile reminding me that it was time to be up and about!
Lazily I got up and as if in a sleepwalk; moved towards the window in my room.
My hand reached out to touch it … and as if a 220 volt had struck me… the cold hit me and woke up all my senses! Brrrrrrr….. So cold! And I could see nothing at all…
I was reminded of Tom of the Tom & Jerry fame… when ice cold water would be poured on him and that to when he was caught unaware; as most of the time he is !
Well, I was in Gurgaon- NCR! Temperatures dropped and the fog! Am sure even Punjabi/ Haryanvi humour would not be enough to warm things!
The warm room caused precipitation on the cold window!

The tree across the road stood stiff, frozen gray! The whole surrounding reminded me of a set up from a
horror movie where the sky would suddenly burst….
Oh Let me think – as If there was a whole glass of water split over a canvas of water color painting! Blurred lights, the gray, blue, green forming a tone I can’t describe!
Turned around and looked at the time – I can’t believe it – It was 8:30 am!

Waiting Hopefully

The sound of bullets, tore the peaceful sky into pieces,
Was it my imagination? Or did it actually happen?
Ah! It’s a year now gone by, since they killed mercilessly!
What happened there after? Well, we light candles, fight in the parliament,
But who will wipe the tears of the little one who has lost everything !
He does not even know what really happened, he just can’t feel his mother around!
People talk, Just talk, - but walk the talk?
Well – lets wait and watch, till they finish there own game – “Kissa Kursi ka!”
Am not angry, just pained, at the apathy,
An unknown policeman, an ordinary man, who cares?
He waits in custody, trial ? The country bleeds to protect this lone killer !
How long ? Is a question we ask, we the people, How long do we have to wait,
For justice, for safety, for peace, for a better world that we can leave behind.
What a difficult question? Any answers….Its a year gone by! .... and answers?
They are waiting – The generation next.

Growing Up

Did I hear a laughter or was it a cry?
Was it sorrow or happiness that went by?
We hear so many things as we walk the path of life
Some we understand and some we connive!
What is right & what is wrong
Question after question in our minds throng.
Can we forget and forgive the past?
Is it easy or through lives does it last?

Balancing the debits & credits; we do so oft
We forget the nice, the beautiful, the kind and the soft!
Memories like clouds drift around
I relive each one till reality brings me crashing to the ground!

All those games we played as a child,
Today they seem like a dream, facing life; with nowhere to hide!
The grey haired granny, with a voice so shrill,
Her big long hands, as if they had license to kill!
The little boy, worked hard at the corner shop,
Was sent to the city – Why ? Ah they had a bad crop!
The school bus honked, as we late comers ran,
A loud voice from behind the wheel – the driver, a burly looking man!

Then, years of growing, and the feeling shy,
Pride, anger when there were no answers to the “WHY?”
The first steps out alone into the “big bad world”,
“Don’t do this & don’t do that” – pieces always being told.

One day at a time, my world did grow,
My first meeting with him and the want for more!
Did I like seeing him, did I wait all day?
I remember each line, and all what he had to say!
When we walked the busy streets
Did I hear the honk, or was it my own heart beat?

Time passed on, paths then separated, and we went our ways,
But the feeling ! – Well , lives in my heart to this very day!

Today, I listen hard to the sound of life – the low and the high,
And say to myself, “I don’t want to miss anything as life goes by!”
Each moment, each sound, each smell, each voice,
Tells me now – “in life, we all have a choice”

War on Terror - We will Fight!

( For what happened to us all Indians on 26/11)
Who are you, behind the innocent face?
What creed, what caste, which religion, which race?
Were you born with hatred ? Or, was it chosen by you?
You make a child cry , a mother weep, each day a terror new!
Like us, you too have a home, your kith and kin
Am so sure they would never be a party to your sin!
In the name of God, you shower bullets far and near
You drive in the minds of people disbelief and fear!
What will you say, when you face Him one day ?
What is the reason, to your bullets, the innocent fall prey?
We didn’t know you, neither stole marbles during a game
Then why do you kill in religions name?
Life is too short, make friends not war
Spread love and brotherhood both near and far.
Use your valour – O fearless one!
To serve your country – you don’t need the gun!
Learn to protect the old and hungry , to heal the sick
Today you bring animosity between countries – the mistrust so thick!
We have learnt to tolerate, but we are brave,
We love our country and will stand by each other – when times are grave!
Your spread fear and death to us – but in vain!
We have done it before – we will do it again!
You cannot win, whoever you may be,
Till the last man – each time ; we will protect our country !
India, fear not, dear one, you have many a valiant son
Our fight against terror, they have already begun!
VANDE MATARAM ! JAI HIND !
( I salute each hero; heard and unheard of - who gave their lives to keep us safe.)

Eternal Colors of Life

(Pictures taken at Kanya Kumari - Before and After sunrise)
Each morning as a new day dawns
I look out for the eternal painter
Who has spilt the color across the skies,
Simple strokes , making our lives worthwhile
His laughter of beauty breaks out in the seas,
Each moment triumphs in the green grass and trees.
He loves his work, I am so sure
For not a season goes by without colors so pure!
Have you ever heard the chant of the seas?
The voice of the rivers, felt the dance in the breeze?
Look out for you will find, vibrant colors, the beauty in the sand
An evening sky, a rainbow with the VIBGYOR band!
Who could he be? Many a times I have thought
Where do I find him? Many a lesson he has taught!
A prayer, a thanks , these words are small
Give me the knowledge to understand this all
Day breaks to give us light, live another day
Colors all around, yes , there is the black and the grey!
In the eternal music, I hear his voice,
I hear him say, “Its your canvas and hence it is your choice!”

A Fisherman's heart!

(Picture : KanyaKumari -Oct 08)
The call of the sea! O! Bountiful mother
Without you where would I be ?
Even before the sun does rise
Even before the first bird flies,
I reach out to you for my livelihood.
You are sometimes nice and sometimes rude!
Crashing into my little boat, you come,
This is all I have, help me to feed my little one!
She awaits my return with fear in her eyes!
“Come back safely” – softly , in her heart, she cries.
I have seen so many colours on you
Sparkling sunlight of the dawn and the evening blue!
In my little boat each dawn I go
Wave after wave , you have always helped me to flow.
My father, my uncles, all knew you so well
I was but a child, waiting on your shores, picking up shells!
Slowly as I grew, I joined them too
Eyes closed, praying hard but trying to be the brave new!
I could feel my father’s hand around me – holding me tight
“My dear one”, he said, “this is the fear you need to fight!”
So many years, so many tides
So many storms, sometimes no place to hide!
You are the one who has taught me how to live
From you I have learnt to earn happiness; when you give
O bountiful mother, let me be born again
To be ever giving and never to be vain!

Prayer for Peace

( Photo: From a Church in Kodencherry, Kerala. Thanks to Terrince)

“God, Forgive them for they know not what they do…”
Who could have said this – but only you!
You taught us to forgive, You taught us to love
You healed our hearts, You healed our souls,
Why did we hurt you?
Why to the devils did our hearts get sold?
Not a drop of water we could offer you, O Lord!
As You carried your cross – across a path so hard!
Will we be forgiven- I think even to this day
Is there redemption – In what way ?
Those were the yester years – but have we changed ?
The old still cry, the innocent bleed
We still stand and watch the weak being caned!
We are civilised, we fly jets in the air,
But stop to think – have we wiped a tear?
So many mothers still weep today
So many innocent still fall a prey!
Give us the light, O Lord! , show us the way,
With wealth and greed let us not go astray!
Let us not choose a path so wrong
Let no one be the king with a crown of thorn!

( I wrote this post the Delhi Blast! when will we live in peace!)

To my first Teacher - Ma

I don’t remember when the lessons started,
Probably even when I did not know how to talk!
You taught me; dear Ma; to smile at the faces that looked at me with curiosity
Holding my little fingers as I reached out to feel the world around…

Then I took my first step forward
You were always there to help me take one step at a time!
To smile and hold me in your arms when I fell,
Taught me to stand up again and walk to the end of the path!

The first word, the first song, the first tear, the first love…
You were always there dear Ma…

As I grew and learnt the ways of the world
You walked beside me, showing me the difference between the right and wrong!
Taught me not to forget the plant, the flowers, the green grass and the trees,
As I walked life’s path, overjoyed by victories!

Held me close as I cried, hurt by the ways of the world
Taught me how to look ahead, to see the silver lining in the dark cloud!
Who else could have done this…but you dear Ma!
The unconditional love, the selfless sharing of the smallest piece!

You taught me the power of prayers, to thank the Divine
To be kind to all creatures, to listen and learn from all.
Taught me to live a life with gratitude;
Only you could have done this; Ma!

Today, when the years have gone by,
I walk through life and in the blue skies I fly,
And can do things on my own!
Sometimes I feel your opinions “old fashioned”
And I reason with you – “You don’t know the world outside”; I say
“It is not what it used to be during your times, you know”
You smile and nod silently as if to say
“I’m there for you ...just in case you need me, my dear!”