Uttarayan

Uttarayan is a sanskrit word that means when the earth bend towards the north direction.That's the time when days become longer and night short and swift.It's the time when people living in northern hemisphere enjoys the new harvest.The crops leaves the fields and enters home after months of toil and anxiety in the field.. It makes or breaks fortunes.So much unconsumed emotions get timely release.In ancient Hindu epic Mahabharat, the great warrior Vishma fell down on earth, his body pierced by hundreds of enemy arrows, but He had the power to decide his time of death.He was waiting on a bed of arrows for the Uttarayan to arrive.The auspicious time of the year.
The fileds become empty, wind become stronger with last traces of coldness. People go up in their terraces and roof-tops to celebrate by flying kites.
Pack emotion on a piece of paper and fly it in the wind. As it crosses frontiers your soul soars high in spirit. fly deep into the bluish sky helped by the wind . All need their free space in the sky like they do have on the earth. but nothing is free on a platter. one after another will intrude into your space to intimidate your peace and tranquility. Even if you want to live in peace in the space, but attacking kites will intimate you and try to kill you. Freying temper, outburst of emotion on the ground - some will shout in dejection , others will give war cry - to settle earthly scores on the sky. Battles of survival will be played on and on in the vast oceanic sky amidst the on-looking witnesses.

HO HO HO!

HO HO HO!
Snow-white hills,snow-studded trees,

Blowing crisp winter breeze,

Sleeping huts wake up to breathe,

small bubbles of life, on way to hills.



Tiny light-bulbs, light-up with dream,

Christmas Stars sway in the wind,

Gifts galore in X-mas tree
to welcome you free.



Deep starry night, look up with zeal,

Pole star remains ever stand-still;

Ancient priests searched that child,

Born in lap of mother Mary, the kind.



Sounds of laughter, echoes travel faster,

Dancing kids run here and there;

Crowd throng in the streets

and up in the hills,

Carols’s smoke spreads out thin.



Bells jingle ! Bells jingle !

Santa Claus smiles, “Ho, Ho, Ho !”

and tinkle!

Flying over trees, distributing gifts free,

Santa laughs and leaves,

Merry Christmas eve!

SEARCH FOR THE OASIS

SEARCH FOR THE OASIS

A few months ago, Budhu has lost his father, dying after a prolonged illness. Whatever small savings father has left behind, are dwindling. Now Budhu is on the look out for a job.
Family is on the verge of starving. Its early humid morning. He picks up the daily to search for suitable openings.

Fox & King given an Ad for Walk-In Job Interview. That draws Budhu towards the ad.

He reads the ad again. WALK-IN INTERVIEW
Minimum Qualification: Graduate
Minimum Experience: Two years desirable

Budhu thinks, let's give a try. After all,Fox & King is an old reputed company , getting selected there can change his and family's fortune.
He reads the ad a few more times. Yes, he has the qualification. Age on his side.
Experience -well two years is desirable but not mandatory. So he fits there too. He has high integrity, but how will the interviewer know of that, simply looking at his face and talking for a few minutes. He brushes that thought aside. It is , after all, not his headache and gets up.

Within an hour, Budhu is ready for the interview. He stands before the mirror and looks at himself. How does he look? Calm and poised - does it reflect obedience and loyalty for the would-be employer?..In no time Budhu dashes out of home for the interview. Budhu’s mother watches silently through the window as her son crosses the busy street and waits there for public bus. She crosses her fingers and prays to God for his job.



"May I come in, sir?"

"Yes, come in."

Mr.Agarwal is sitting behind a huge table,wearing a costly cream suit. A blue tie is
resting comfortably on his bulging belly,a few diamonds sparkling from his finger rings.
"Thank you, sir.",Budhu said.

"What’s your name?"

"Budhu."

"Shit! Budhu? Do you know the meaning of your name?"

"yes, it’s foolish. I was very plain speaking and truthful in childhood unlike our
neighbourhood boys. So my father gave me that name."

"Such a horrible name! Okay, leave it, tell me about your qualifications."

"I’ve done master’s degree in science. Physics was my special paper. Got first class in post-graduate."

Agarwal only nods his head. He doesn’t seem that happy.

"Any experience?"

"Sorry..none sir. How do I get experience, sir! I am flying like a shuttle cork from
Diamond Harbour to Salt Lake for months… gave a few interviews….buuuut.. none
clicked ! They had their own candidates and I had no recommendations… that’s why.."

"Jobs here are earned, no one offers job on a platter free!"(then Agarwal starts
murmuring) "So many others are waiting outside. Well…tell me something about you."

"I am an obedient humble servant, sir! We are born slaves,
sir …my grand-dad was a reputed servant of the nephew of the father-in-law of King’s
Security guard, …then my father was a servant too, but by mistake he learned to read
and write. Oh God ! Grand-dad was sooo furious ! He ordered him to leave home, sir.
Then father grew up doing odd jobs here and there. He often used to tell us, your God is your employer. Always protect him, even if God doesn’t sometime care for him ! You see, sir, we are great servant for generations." Budhu's mind laughs hearing him say those words in a serious tone, though he knows he is making a fantastic story for them.

Now Agarwal smiles silently. He seems to like the boy. Perhaps he is in the lookout for a boy who will silently obey all and silently bear abuses like this boy’s dad did. He has found a jem. Agarwal’s eyes now get brightened. He says, “Well very good. What work you can do ?”

"What not I can do, sir?..I will serve you,sir, even before your desire for anything turn into want. That’s what made my dad a famous servant, sir. I will follow his footsteps."

"Ohho ! very nice."

"If you select me, sir, I will keep you ever happy, sir ! If you do not take me sir, I can swear by God sir , you’ll miss a great devotee for your life! And will never know what a servant can do for his boss !!" Budhu's mind laughs at his exagerated tone of devotion.

"But Budhu! Are you serious about what you saying?"

Budhu blinked his eyes and in his deepest of self he knows, what he is talking is just acting accroding to a friend’s script. He has to act like the humblest servant who has no stings. That will assure him of a job and save his family from imminent starvation.Budhu clears his throat and reply, “Always I am sincere and truthful,sir. That’s why my dad gave me a name like Budhu.”

Budhu now laughed a bit anticipating some positive signals from the interviewer.

"My dad used to tell, the best service is that where you spend whole life in a company, see it grow and retire from there."

Agarwal now gives a broad smile.

"OK Budhu, nice meeting you and hope to see you in our company if you pass the next
test. Here is a small formality to complete."

He scribbles something on a piece of paper and tells Budhu, “Take this slip and meet Mr. S.Rungta. He is sitting downstairs. Now go fast for test. Wish you good luck!”

Budhu shakes hand with Agarwal and comes out of his cabin. He looks around the huge
hall with fitted cubicles – so many people are working silently. Nobody bothers to look up and smile at him. He gets into an elevator and reaches the floor where Mr.R.Rungta is sitting. In the entrance there is a chamber with a golden name-plate “S.Rugta, Manger, HRD”. A security guard is sitting in front of his door and in full alert, “ What do you want?”

Budhu shows the chit to the guard . Guard gives a look at the chit and orders “Quickly go inside. Sir is now free.” Budhu pulls his legs and knocks at the door with cheerful eyes and slightly opening the door,asks – “May I come in sir?”

Rungta gives a curt smile and says,”Mr. Agarwal just informed me about you.”

Budhu is happy that Agarwal is so kind-hearted that he so much interest to inform
Mr.Rungta about him. He decides, the day he will become an employee he will surely
take full care of Agarwal’s wellbeing . A question drops out from Budhu’s mouth ,”Am I selected for the job,sir?”

But what Rungta says, Budhu is not ready to hear even in his dream.
Rungta says, “How can I assure you the job? you’re not the only candidate. Look there, more than hundred willing boys standing in queue to serve our company ?”

Perplexed Budhu quips, “But sir! Mr. Agarwal just told me, I am sure to get the job!”

"Ha Ha Ha….", Rungta laughs…then suddenly he becomes serious and says in a low
voice, “You may have passed the parameters but not the acid test. If you are directly recommended by any CEO or GM of a famous company or any political big shots, we can,of course, take you . Do you have any such reference ?"

Budhu goes blank . It’s a shock but not altother unknown in this country.

“No,sir I am from a lower middle-class family. We do not have such high contacts”,
Budhu tries hard to speak. He is controlling his frustration and anger.

"Then, wee….lllll, we are sorry. We can’t take a boy without good reference. I am very sorry to say that’s our corporate policy."

"Do you think, sir! high reference means high capability and high integrity of a
candidate?"

Budhu is starting to get angry now. He continues, “Don’t you know the most corrupt in our society comes from that level ? I have brilliant degrees, character certificate of my college principal and the school head-master. Don’t you value these respected men’s signature?”

Rungta looks a bit upset with Budhu’s outburst. Rungta smiles again,“Well boy! there is another way to get here too. Cool down. Agarwal told me, you are very needy. If you do not get the job, your family will starve. I feel pity for you. Now listen, it’s very secret. Bring 20K by tomorrow and the job is yours. I will manage to get you the job.”

" twenty thousands? That’s too much . You need all that to get me the job?"

"No—no, not me alone. I will have to spray the money to two-three other executives…"

"But Mr.Agarwal never said that I will have to pay to get a job?"

"Well Mr.Budhu, we take much less, but Mr. Agarwal I will have to give fifty percent of share. If you can arrange by tomorrow, Mr.Agarwal and I guarantee you the job.Tell me, are you ready? Quick …quick..I am very busy..I have no time to spare..."

Budhu thinks a few seconds as Rungta watches him. Finally Budhu says,”Weeeeell sir!
Done. Tomorrow?” and Budhu’s eyes glare at him. He wants to be a man-eater to eat
away these men from earth.

"Okay. That will do.You are a nice coperative boy. We will enjoy to keep you in our
company. Congratulations!!"

Now after a brief pause, Rungta continues, “You will be put at a basic salary of three thousands. With perks and other tit bit you can get near six thousands. I believe you can do justice to the post. Let’s shake hands. Congratulations again !!”
HRD Manager offers his hands with a cunning smile.

"Where you want the money?"

"Take this tele no of mine. Tomorrow I will be standing at the crossing of Park Street and Russel Avenue sharp at six in the evening. Remember, sharp at six. …. Ohho! I almost forgot…, take this Bio-data form. Fill it up and hand over to me tomorrow."

"When will I join?"

"Next week. Don’t worry, you will get the appointment letter delivered at home!” Rungta smiles, “Now you may go, I will finish my other appointments."

Budhu comes out of Everest tower and starts walking down the pavement. A big
illuminated banner at the top of the Everest tower flashes “Fox & Co…..Fly Your Dreams Safe and Secured”. Budhu sweats profusely though a sudden wind is blowing from the river Ganges. His mind speaks out, congratulation Budhu, your Fox & King acting was exciting! Why not you be an actor! You can earn through that too?

Budhu remembers the Tagore’s poem again that he has kept so close to his heart since
childhood,
” chitta jetha Bhoisunya
ucha jetha sir………….”
(where the mind is without fear
and where the head is held high….. “ )

That poem again electrifies Budhu’s body and mind. He goes to the nearest public
telephone booth and ring up “ Police Head Quarter….”. Budhu comes out of the booth
smiling. Takes out the Biodata form from the pocket and tear it into pieces and throw into the wind…..reciting:
“where the mind is without fear
and the head is held high….. “

PORTRAIT OF MY GRANDDAD

PORTRAIT OF MY GRANDDAD

My grand father had smile on his face. No one saw him become angry. When we were
children and we had our family functions at home, granddad would be sitting on his old bed, legs stretched and the back on a old hard pillow, ever smiling. We kids would take our seats around him, eager to hear granddad’s stories. It was personal story mixed with history. “Granddad! Tell us about Sindabad!”. Another brother would shout, “No, no, tell us a war story. What Hitler did while attacking Russia?”

Granddad smiled. He would get absorbed with his grand sons and grand daughters.
Smile used to say so many things. We could feel, he was enjoying every moment and his eyes brightening up, telling his heirs about past – some bits of family history, some memories of World Wars and often about his romance for Indian freedom movement and nation’s adoring heroes. We used to get tense, forgetting to fight among us. Those were special family occasions. Granddad loved our company.

Granddad had another companion – a walking stick, made of cheap wood with poor
finishing. But he never bothered about his own things and he never asked any of his
well-off sons and daughters for himself. He was a village boy who lived most of his life in brick-iron chained city life. Anyway, that stick was his twenty-four hours’ companion. He used to amuse us, telling about three-legged fox of fables. But sometimes we used to get frightened by that menacing stick, which granddad used to raise to beat us, once in a while. But we never were angry with him. He loved his family and loved one and all. He loved his neighbours and friends – one and all. The word “hate” was alien to him.

He always loved to walk miles and miles and see the world, always that old walking stick firmly held in his right hand. When the neighbourhood crows used to cheer seeing the first rays of the sun, granddad would wake up, pick up his discoloured shopping bag from the hanger and walk down the lane with that walking stick. Before long, he would come back from local market with a bag full of spinach, other leaves, vegetables, potatoes and fresh river-water fish. He would start calling our names to get up. Then he would get back to his usual bed, half-lying in leisure. While sipping hot tea and toasted breads with one hand, other hand used to hold the morning news daily, eyes roving through Newspaper headlines. Lost in his other world.

In the afternoon, granddad used to get dressed after a short nap. Gulped the tea and
would proceed for the near-by lake. Sometimes he used to take me to the lake. I loved those outings. City without greeneries had at least one lake and a beautiful long stretch of garden bordering the lake.
“ Come on, boy. We’ll sit down here.”

There were so many benches around the lake. But he would straight way head for the
special joint for old and retired people.

“ Hi Mani! Today you’re late.”
“I have brought my grandson today”
“ Oh come, come, sit here.”
I would silently sit next to him and gaze at the vast deep water.
“ He is very shy, Mani.”
“ No no, he always keep his grandmum busy with his silent tricks. He takes a few hours to adjust. HaHaHa ”
My cheeks would go red. I would take my eyes off the lake and start looking into the
huge trees and quarrelling birds, while my grand dad would get busy with his friends
talking about their families.

“ No. My son didn’t turn up this Sunday. His mother prepared special dishes and kept
waiting waiting…then she was crying in the night”, oneday granddad would say.

Then one friend would say, “ My son is no different. He is going great in his career and he cannot get time to meet this old father. But I am so glad that he got a promotion. Now he is General Manager – Marketing.” Friend’s face would shine with family pride. My grand dad would smile in admiration. Then he would start repeating successes of his sons and daughters to his friends.
Darkness would embrace the garden, those people would start getting up one by one to
return to their nests.

………

Almost a decade later, I was passing by that lake. Granddad was no more. My nostalgic childhood had left me long ago. Now the lake was calling me. My legs slowly started to move towards the lake and to those benches, my grand dad was so fond of. I was hypnotically walking back to my childhood. Cool breeze from the lake and noise of the birds hypnotised me .But nothing had changed since, though time had moved! A group of old people were still sitting there, speaking among themselves while watching the evening shadow deepening on the water and noise of home coming birds on the trees.Yes I know, time waits for none, but history of people re-cycles again and again.

DEATH OF A MOMENT

DEATH OF A MOMENT
A burial of a man on a sea beach,
A few roses scattered on the bed,
A few leaves dry lying close by.
A brief history stamped on a black stone.
Lying there alone that lonely man,
Came alone, lived alone,
now left alone with dead sea.
Sand of time'll never distrub ever,
as the man buried empty, rest in peace.
The skeleton of a dinosaur,
with time-frozen eggs of emotions.
Music of a pedestrian's Journey
crossing genders,
throwing blue flowers in joy,
now is no more
but a piece of ageing paper.

QUEEN OF ETERNITY

How wanna explain to a blind about beauty !
Will a deaf dream about laughter of his sweetie ?
Have'u ever peeped at the window of life,
Ever looked into moon lit sky to feel fine,
Dared to smell gentle autumn breeze of soul.
could you feel her deep blue eyes in earth's hole,
in the calm shadow of country-side pool?
When the smiling moon stares
with her eternal smile, she bares;
dancing trees in the far away field, like her
flowing mane, sing to the music till breath to wither;
a few birds humming in dark forest,
before we call it the day to rest.
Didn't feel love , guy, we didn't
While the manly world couldn't,
but be busy with doggy street fight
over a piece of golden cake, full of fright
my tired soul haunts and floats
for her, as the time stands still on a journey boat ,
timeless ageless woman of love and peace.
Hey God! save the Queen !
the crusader of peace!

Dance Of life

have you spent winter of life on the mad
streets of universe! cherish to dream of
bygone youth, full of fire and heroism...
laughing dancing in celebration of Life!
that's earth of breeding senses!

have you spent life fearing death, remembering
the bygone youth of lusting kissses,
the bygone childhood of maternal embrace,
the bygone truth of discovering forces
drinking truth from ocean of sources !

love blossoms in the heart of fortress,
love do sings in almighty's breeding bed
Oh! spirit of love free of longing and deceit!
tie the two souls closer in a flowery rest.

love dances amongst brighest of the spirit
love lives amongst crusader of life,
love kisses death to bring back light,
have you ever kissed soul to enliven spirit ?

To be happy!!!

Ramu often don’t understand himself. He is supposed to be happy, with the VRS purse multiplying in safe havens, and all his close relations are fine. His dearest niece joined medical college with flying colors. The other nice snatched brilliant marks in school exams. His loving elder sister’s stature in teaching profession is rising. Then his about-to-retire brother-in-law switched to a posh spacious flat at the heart of metro, while the younger brother-in-law managed to stay in Kolkata that he never loves to miss.

Everything is fine in family front. Varsha, his sweet spouse everyday returns from school with truck load of who-did-what stories, and wait for him in the evening. She often tells that teaching is the best occupation for house-wives to meet both ends meet – the household duty and the task of breeding future citizens of the nation. He often don’t understand himself. He is supposed to be happy, but his life goes on like a river flows – no misadventures to unknown territories – same morning routines of untimely wake up from an unfinished dream to assist his kid as he dresses up for the school – with a heavy load of books in a bag, placed nicely on Shiva's weak shoulder,  half-bent kid would run down the stairs to catch the Chidren’s Van down in the street. A black shadow of tension often passes through Ramu's mind’s rear window - the unreasonable fear of Islamic fanatic doing something strange to the morning VAN just for revenge! Fears are often unreasonable, but his mind never stops at bad thoughts; his other mind would cheer him up – come on boy! Don’t worry – it will never happen to you. But his other half could hardly reconcile at the thoughts – did those innocent travellers in the Mubmai locals ever thought that their lives would be cut short. He remembers, whenever he traveled to Mumbai, he never missed a ride in Mumbai local in any visit to Mumbai. Mumbai Local trains are like beautiful snake charmers encircling the city with so much love, affection and whenever he put his foot on one of those platforms, he would feel like he is in a place of pilgrimage –feeling the hot breathe of the giant charmer snake encircling the city life-lines. Ramu often don’t understand himself. He is supposed to be happy.



Varsha is happy and everyday they together add one more thread to their knitting dream surrounding Shiva – their only son – he is growing and in a few years will cross Ramu's height and declare adulthood. But do they hear the rumbling of a fallen home – the castles they are so fond of making in the air. That thought often shake Ramu out of blind love, often traumatizes him. Varsha and Ramu discuss, they would have to take the harshest truth boldly – that though today they are the best of Shiva's friend, but in a strange change in flow of testotoren and change in chemicsl balance in his body, he will soon drift away from mamma’s boy and daddy’s apple of eye - and an unknown girl from some unknown family would be his only love - and as he would grow older he would have lesser and lesser time to be with his parents. Oh! It’s like a bad dream ….Its so horrible! Is there anything worse on earth than losing the love of Shiva – whom they are bringing up with so much sweat and dream. Ramu often don’t understand himself. He is supposed to be happy.



Ramu stares at his aged mummy's wrinkled face, sitting in the drawing room and watching one of her favorite regional channel on the TV. He knows her pains – first pain of missing Ramu's dad early in life, and the second pain of living away from Bengal where her two daughters are living. She lives two lives – one Ramu can see and feel. The other - a continuous telepathy with her daughters, she would never say that but Rabu could feel she is walking and living in Kolkata. This shelter is like a prison to her. She wants to breathe the fresh air and reflect on the past life left behind at Kolkata. Last week Ramu bought her ticket for Kolkata journey. Ramu is very happy, at last mother would reach her first home and would have heart full of chats with her daughters – she is now busy here buying new clothes for her grandchildren to carry with her as gifts. Ramu often don’t understand himself. He is supposed to be happy. But his spouse’s face has turned pale as she has started the search for a crèche to put Shiva for a few months - the time his mummy would  be away. That means expenditure. He wonder which one should he choose, one’s happiness or another’s purse. He often don’t understand himself. He is supposed to be happy.!!!

Matter of Indian Rupee and the common man of India

Matter of Indian Rupee and the common man of Indiahttp://homefina.wordpress.com/2006/08/31/matter-of-indian-rupee-and-the-common-man-of-india/Matter of Indian Rupee and the common man of IndiaAugust 31, 2006 - republished Indian Rupeee is going up or going down a few notches - brisk trades do take place in foreign exchange market as also in the Stock markets spread across major cities of Indiia. Script prices of some Fortune-500 companies sucks up lifeline air or release gas to be comfortable. That is everyday story. It doesn’t interest the common man who does not have any financial stake. The jump in Oil priices and its reflection in share market is also of no importance to the common man as they don’t put money in the shares of oil companies of India.News of Oil Exploring companies find of new gas field is also of no news to this common man as he is not a stake holder.These matters never excite them though it tickles the news media and the the business players and their allies.Why this happen.Lets crunch the stat. The simple fact that out of a billion odd population, the super rich and the rich constitue two percent of the population. Then the upper and the middle class with suffiicient purchasing power may constitute not more than another ten percent. So, the remaining eighty-eight pecent of India’s population constitue the majority comprising the people leaving below poverty line ( as per Indian Standard ), the poor who are slightly better off and the lower middle class mass who survives but have not enough purchasing power.If we measure “poor” by the American standard - an individual’s earning not more than $10000 in an year or for a family as a whole not exceeding $20000, then most of the people categorised under lower middle class shall slip below the poverty liine. Anyway, Indian economy and US economy are different. Cost of living is also not similar. Let’s say, a man can survive a month in India with INR 3000 per month or INR 36000 per annum equivalent to US $782!! It is possible. And so in India these families are not treated as poor – they are lower middle class.If we go by percentage – the gigantic nature of the problem may not be understood unless we quantify the figure in numbers. If we say eight eight crore people living in India in towns, villagees, cities who are either poor or not well off, the alarm will start ringing in your head. But that is the harse truth.Now the question is how to run the economy of 100 crors people catering to the interest of only 12% of the population who have financial and muscle power anmd who rules India.There lies the irony. In USA one in every tenth is a poor and one in every fouth black is poor too. But by defining poverty as per the convenience of the ruler, what is flashed across the globe by Indian media is a very rosy picture of India. Only the other day, a Mumbai turist guide was booked by the local government for encouraging Slum tourism to a few foreigners in exchange for a few hundred bucks.. But how far one can hide the true identity of a nation – the real INDIA, that’s what we wonder. Further, a democracy is meant to be a rule of the majority. But while the true illiterates amongst the 88% section is alarmingly high , leading to a picarious situation where common man is bribed and forced to sell his Vote for a canditate. That’s the darker side of Indian poverty (which we may look into in a separate blog).These are the representatives a sizeable of them have brived through the elctions and become the rule makers reaching the corridor of PArliament. CAn it reflect the aspirations of that 88% of the population. But who is listening!!

Mumbai Blast - A different perspective

Even if thousand people die, due to enemy plot to disstabilise neigbors, should we get divided from within? A big no. The provocation is clear - to break Indian economy and create civil wars. Who want wars? We civilians don't like a bit of scream. In this timeless motion of life, we want peace and happiness. But at the other end of the tunnel, there are people who get peace out of the kill!!! The arms-drugs-underworld people thrive on this atmosphere.The country's politician and bureacracy that thrive on cut moneys through escalated defence budgets. But the poeple who have to struggle for a decent living, using common transport, using common space on earth are scared everywhere. They have no choice!!! Bill Gates and Mittals can travel in chartered crafts, so are the ruling politicans. Who will talk for the common men and women taking a ride on Mumbai local trains. Who will look after the secuirty of public transport? Will India in the coming decade shall become a country with large population suffering from all kinds of psychic disorders?

A place for plots and storylines

If anyone interested for mind blowing story lines, you needn't chase the big buck authors and pay a heafty fee. Here it is economical, tailor made and culture-society specific plots that can be big hits for targeted audiences.

We speciliase in teenage, youth and old age psychic needs throry story therapy.

If put in a square bottle, how would a BEAR look like ?

If ever an Angry Gorilla threaten you?

Generations on earth - our past - our future