Police And Politics

Have you watched the movie “Apharan”? I was really shattered after seeing the movie. It was quite shocking to see the dirty politics and impotent police force. One scene was really kick in the teeth, in which superintendent of Police was sobbing in the lap of his wife, explaining his incapability after being slapped by the MP. It was a movie, a fictitious story. But more or less this incident is being repeated in every parts of our country by our respected MPs and MLAs. The latest case has happened in Varanasi, in which ADM was abused and slapped; his cloths were torn apart by a MLA of Samajwadi Party and his supporters. Is it not shame for democracy? People are always being motivated to abide by laws and these representatives of people are breaking these laws and showing how impotent system is and how important they are. Who can imagine that it is Gandhi’s nation who freedom is deep-rooted in truth and nonviolence. Criminals have killed the politics. Personally, in our college days whenever we see a student, expert in exploiting others with absurd thoughts, we predicted him a great politician in near future. You can imagine what the outlook of common people about politician is. To be convicted in some mardani (masculine) case seems to be an essential qualification for being a politician. If you have slapped a police; if you have led a protest march; if you have burnt effigy.  Then, feel that you are on the right path to join politics. I am going to join DRDO as scientist, we have three verification from police, IB and CBI and these politicians who are going to represent our country; going to lead us to prosperity and happiness do not need ­ any qualification, do not need unstained, spotless political image. Where are we leading , Democracy to autocracy?

You Are The World

 A tiny leaf quivers

The giant tree dances

 A single string vibrates

The guitar sprouts a melody

 You see one, then

Mountain is mountain

Sky is sky

River is river

 You see the integration of all

It is beauty

Life is integration

An amalgamated creation

You are the world

Observer is observed.

 seer is the seen

A Way To Assi Ghat

I have visited Assi Ghat many times but today it was different in the sense that I was alone; by foot and with a Fujifilm digital camera in a rainy, cloudy day. Suddenly a gust of raindrops was beginning to pour and for the next five minutes, it was in a rest like a periodic cycle. I was enjoying both as it was feeling me the nostalgia of my childhood when we ran in the heavy raindrops, striking against our face and body with heavy school bags on the shoulder. I walked along the KabirNagar road and saw the banners of coaching speaking of PRIME CLASSES, JRS Institute, APEX Institutes, Ashok Singh’s Academy and many more. It is amazing how just in 4 years, number of coaching increased from one to seven, just beside the KabirNagar road with appealing names. It is not so far when this road will match to Kakadev Gali of Kanpur in the number of coaching institutes.

I just passed near the famous Durga temple known more as Durga-Kund. There was a great rush of devotee as usual. There were two queues of the beggars at the two side of the gate of temple. Their eyes were restlessly watching with convincing dismay. Many people were familiar with their good acting and few were exception. At every second, I could see how tempo drivers were bowing his head, murmuring Jai Mata Di. I wonder if those are the man who beat his wives and humiliate their mothers.

As I reached Assi Ghat, it had become somewhat dark, earlier because of dark clouds. One can easily find a fair number of foreigners near the Ghat, enjoying the pious, calm and mystical feeling, sprouting from the river Ganges. Some foreigners were clad in Indian traditional dress Dhoti-Kurta with twisted long hairs and a large red tilak on their foreheads. People were gathered around the shops selling spicy chats, roasted mazes and special-tea. I saw some couples, expressing their love in the cool and peaceful ambiance of Ganges, after anyhow getting a private place. As to respect their privacy I only spotted them for a second and moved forward.

I watched; I enjoyed; I contemplated. Now it was time to return. I reached beside the Manas Mandir and ordered a Lassi. First I smelled the lassi; let its coolness, sweetness to flow through nostrils to mind and then to my stomach which stimulated my craving of taking it to my dried mouth. In a second it was finished and finally with refreshing footsteps, I walked towards my home.


*photos are subjeted to copyright.

When death touches you, it gives a new life

Mr X is lying on the expensive cushioned mattress. His eyes are half-closed; his breaths are slow and heavy. His forehead is shining with the oil. He is in white Kurta-payjama. The fragrance of artificial scent of Ferrari brand has superseded the scent of medicine. He is as restive as a dead body.  Sometimes his lip is quivering as he is praying or saying something. His son Y and Z are standing both sides, besides his legs. Some of his relatives have also entered into the room. Seeing his condition, their eyes are moistening. They are not able to stop crying and praising...” what a noble man he is! He is the man of determination. Just See his achievements, where he was and where he is now, a poor farmer boy to billionaire.”

 Mr X is half dead for his family. But Mr X is still as awakened from inside as he used to be at any business deal. All the events like images with sounds are rounding in his head. He is seeing the desperation for being rich, being successful in his college days. He is reminding how he was feeling jealous of the students from prosperous family; how tensed he was when for the first time he was called for interview; how his goal of doing social service lost its identity in the zigzag path of corporate world; how he has chased the source of fruits and never has tasted them; how an emotional gap is created between him and his wife, between him and his children due to his workaholic nature; how he used to fear from death and now when death is near he is feeling more peace and calmness as he has never experienced in his whole life. For the first time, he has time to think of something beyond his desire of success, beyond his business. He is realising how ridiculous and unimportant his stresses and tensions were, who used to present at every time before any deal and after any deal who finally led him to death-bed, merely in his fifties . He is not repenting but thanking and praying to god, if it is possible to give him some more days to relish this beautiful world with the open eyes, with open heart. He is reminding the lines which he had once read,” When death touches you, it gives a new life.”

An Innocent Answer

It is sunny morning of spring. In the garden, the trees that were bare few days ago are now covered with new enchanting green leaves. Wind is flowing from the east with a fragrance of wetted soil. Some children are running against the wind. Some are playing marbles on the smooth yellowish ground surrounded by shrubs and bushes.  Some are making Charakhi by cutting the mango leaves, and linking it to the cot, in a hope to make the cot fly like an aeroplane. Their warbling is mingling in the wind and making it alive, an animate being.  Some are staring at the earthy waterway flowing beside the tree from the tube-well to the dry fields and are putting the boats, made of leaves. Some are running, massaging and wrestling into the waterlogged fields.

“What are you doing here? Go and read! These things will not make you rich.” (An earnest middle aged voice swells in the ambiance.)

“What is to be rich, father!” (An innocent voice inquires).

“After becoming rich, you will be happy, my boy!”

“That means I will not have to read, once I become rich.”

Love and Lust

some one has said that love is based on affinity while lust is based solely on desire. This is my attempt to differentiate between two

My heart panted

My eyes gazed

My focus converged

As the beauty passed

Black, big eyes, slender look

Her curly brown hair swayed

Sprinkling a fragrance to the wind

Making me mad and passionate

Creating a internal debate

Of love and lust

Of sacred and rot

Of fulfilment and desire

I was burning with fire

I witnessed myself

I found   the truth

When I saw her body

I describe it lust

When I see into her deep eyes

I describe it love

Love only gives

Lust only takes

Love and lust are like smoke and fire

When love is near

Lust is nowhere, o! My dear

Faith Or Fever

In scorching heat, I saw the bare legs; old legs, young legs, small legs, big legs, weary legs, passionate legs, wounded legs, bandaged legs. A twinkling decorated wooden stick, with two small sized pots hanging at its two ends, oscillating front and back was reflecting a typical austerity. Clad in keshariya half trousers and shirts, layering against their sweated scorched body were moving with a restoring chant of “Bole Bum”. Yes, I am talking about ‘Kanwariyas’

                   

While moving out from Kanpur to Allahabad, police force with arms, smoke coming out of dying flames of two burned trucks was creating a dreaded picture. Soon it was revealed to me, it is done by some kanwariyas, in revenge to their deceased fellow. Later I found this is not only happened this year, but previous year same thing happened. There are many incidents like forcibly sitting down in the train, misbehaving with the people. Are they not tarnishing their image?

These incidents put many questions about their reverence, faith and beliefs. I do not know whether it is the faith or a mere fashion that is attracting mass of people from every class of every age. But whatever it is, these incidents leave a black stain on HINDUISM.

*All photos are taken by me by my mobile....

My Lost Love

It was a sunny morning. The fresh zephyr of coziness was embroidering my whole body with a mystical feeling. I walked along the river-side, surrounded by lush green trees, reflecting its greenery into the calm, cool and bluish water and booming its beauty to divinity. Birds were out of the next and were clamoring as they were doing their morning prayer, feeling their gratitude for a new day to live; a new day to relish; a new day to explore. I was feeing the silence inside, going deeper and deeper as I was witnessing everything happening around me. The semi-circled Sun, in the red crust was rising in the far horizon, embellishing the sky with a blooming redness, and layering the blue sky with an exquisite creativity. I was walking with a full awareness of every movement of my body parts and appreciating existence as an overwhelming gift.

Suddenly as I approached to the temple, the scenery took me to the reminiscence of my past, an unforgettable wound that pinches my heart, trembles my existences and obstructs the seed to plant, to flourish which was sowed in my childhood with pure, delicate, and unaltered hands of me and her. I remember her inviolable hands in my hand, swinging simultaneously up and down, harmonizing the inner-gaiety and levity in a rhythmic fashion. A mystical feeling and unison of senses, running through my body to her, was centering the turbulence of feeling in the heart. My eyes were witnessing her pretty face, dazzling black eyes, her half-closed black hair in the layout of blue sky, spectacular green trees, and breezy chilled air, in the morning shadow of temple. When I looked into her eyes, the veils of intellect, shame and modesty mingled into an ocean of an unknown, which my heart deciphers today as ‘Love’, a feeling of laying out for no reason, for no gain and still gearing up for any pain. The day was the last day of my heavenly life when I heard that she was no more. I know her loss was heaven’s gain and still today, in the rain of his remembrance, the petals of flower boom, spreading the aroma of love, happiness and livingness in my barren life.

Love happens only once & rest is just life

It was not vivid, but it sounded emphatic and for a moment, turned my attention to the young couple, sitting under a dense shadow of banyan tree, on a stoned chair. Their body was tensed, their action were symbolizing their annoyance and irritation. Soon their discussion turned into an exaggeration and sudden gust of temper turned into a departure in two opposite direction. As the bridegroom turned towards my position, I slightly turned my eyes and for a moment I got shocked. Oh no! He was Kirtan, my friend, who was my room-mate for past 3 years in IT-BHU. After graduation I went to do research and he went to the software firm. I was invited in his marriage, but first time I realized what is difference between a professional-life and college life. College life makes you ready for professional life and professional life makes you ready for a barren, captive and boring life. At first, it seemed his anger and desperation had blurred his eyes as he was staring me like an unknown tourist, in the city of mountain, Shimla.

I whispered”, Kirtan! Are you Kirtan?”

He startled and exclaimed,” Amit, Oh my God! Is this you?”

Suddenly, his whole gesture turned into a chuckling laughter from a grave and weighty seriousness.

What are you doing here, man,” he giggled, “Are you here for Honeymoon? I can not believe you are married!”

No yaar, I, somehow veiling my desperation through a phony smile, said,” I am free till now. Free to choose; free to live; free to have a trip with any girl.”

I could feel how my words were cuddled with a clandestine distress.

I promptly turned the topic and asked with emphasis to the words,” ok, tell me, how are you doing? Where is your wife, my dear Bhabhi Ji?”

He sat down beside me and ordered two cup of coffee and sighed,” you know, marriage gives you a lot of things, most importantly a partner to share your happiness, your unhappiness. When I first time meet with my wife, I saw the reflection of true love, the girl for which I used to dream. We dated for 2 years and now finally got married 6 months before. But now what is happening with me or her is not really good, we both feel like a weight for each other, possessiveness haunts both and many times it leads us a fight between us.”

I exclaimed,” are you talking about Rishita? The girl, popular for her cute look and attracting eyes”

I don’t know what happened to me as I was not able to hinder my crush to Rishita.

“Hey! Don’t call her a girl now. She is my wife”, he chuckled with a mixture of pride and desperation.

“Do you realize, half of our class-mates are crazy for her? You are winner man… Really, a winner!”

I was not able to shield my emotions in spite of his coveted warning.

“Don’t tell me that you are also crazy for her, I know you, and you have not even talked to her. Everyone jokes about you, how will you ever propose to a girl.”

“Ohhh!! Yes, I was that sort of person. But now I have changed. You know, these 3 years of experience in this doomed world has made me different. Now I can feel what the importance of love in this barren world is”

“Really! Are you saying these words? I can not believe…”

“Ok, tell me when are you getting married? Got a crush on any girl?”

Many time words creates such a storm in which we lost our control, the desperation that I have held in my eyes were rushed out through the streaky corner of the eyes, demonstrating the dismay that was layered with fake smile.

“Kirtan, I am divorced!”

(Every single word seems to be so weighty that it was hard to put on tongue)

My tear rolled out .My face was soaked with salinity of my deep anguish.

I sighed and uttered,” you know, what type of person I used to be, always used to avoid the girls. So for the first time I met Anjali, I found something comfortable with her in talking, discussing and explaining everything that I feel. She loved my talking and like a good counselor helped me to come out from many problems. We liked each other and without making any delay, we got married. For some months everything went smoothly but as we explored each other completely, we found that the image, the reflection which had attracted towards each other is a very tiny part of our personality. As you know how stubborn and obstinate I am. I led our marriage at the verge of catastrophe and finally our fragile bond turned into an emotional exodus.”

It is pathetic, yaar! But don’t be in distress. Forget, whatever happened to you. Start a new life.You are young, smart, you have job. What else do you need to have a good married life?

I sighed,” Love! I do not have this. You know, Love happens only once & rest is just life. “

Kirtan trembled from his toe to head. His perspiring face in the cold atmosphere was revealing his desperation for his wife. May be, he got the reflection of his future in the tears of my eyes.

In the mean-time, I can feel the love, arising in the heart of the Kirtan, eliminating the dark hatred for his wife and leaving a refreshed, egoless quintessential of love. I thanked my self and thought,

“Pain for one, is the medicine for other”

My Journey to Lucknow

This was my second journey to Lucknow, a city illustrated as city of nawabs. I, my elder brother and younger one got in the Varuna express at 4:55 A.M. on 12^th of July and set out for the M.B.B.S counseling of my younger brother in KGMC. Counseling was on 13^th of July. So we moved off to catch a glimpse of this famous city. We planned to visit the zoo and other places like Imambada, bhool-bhulaiya. So after putting our bag and baggage into Mama Ji’s room, we hired a tempo and first went to zoo. As we entered, we first noticed a board, hanging and declaring “The most dangerous animal on the planet”. I got thrilled and as I moved near the board, there was mirror reflecting my self and for a moment, I thought,” is it true?”

I saw bear, Giraffe, rhinoceros, lion, tiger, hippotamus, zebra, and snakes and felt the rich diversity and incredible beauty of existence. I begin to ponder,” why and how existence is so diverse?Does the principal of entropy in physics correspond to the diversity of existence? Does diversity has a class, like diversity in different species and diversity in the same species? Does existence plays permutation and combination while forming a new species or it is deterministic? Let’s leave it what ever it is, but there is beauty in diversity, caressed by curiosity and inquisitiveness.

After that we went to Imambada. I have no such keen interest in historic buildings but for the sake of passing time I went with my brothers. It began to rain heavily and soon roads got flooded with water, cuddled with mud and dirt. Somehow we managed to stand just below a building. As soon as, raining reached a moderate level we got into a horse-rickshaw and with an amicable jerks and comfortable mumbling sound, we set out to investigate the historic facts on historic rickshaw, for just thirty rupees. We just saw chhota Imambada and left other for other days and unfortunately for seeing others, other day was not in our fortune. I do not know if time travel is possible in future(as Stephen Hawking says, it will never be )or not and for me, there is only one importance of historical things is that seeing them, snap shooting them and realizing them, makes you to travel in past to sense the unknown and to quench the inquisitiveness. It is travel through mind, if not through your body.

A gift by Russian government to Indian government

Finally, we set forth to satiate our appetite. I am not a strictly a vegetarian but I prefer to be a vegetarian as it has aesthetic value. We ordered onion -Kulcha, mix-veg and maushroom-matar with a sweet-corn soup and finally Rashmalai as a finishing dish. I found the food delectable with a luscious scent, cooked in a hygienic way. Every time I was taking a piece food into my mouth, I can feel the relishing and rejuvenating sense arising through my taste buds and reaching to my brain, gratifying and warming my hunger in a charismatic way.

my elder and younger brother

And finally, good news J my brother is allotted GSVM, college in Kanpur for his M.B.B.S course. Soon I am setting out for my first journey to Kanpur. And one thing also after seeing KGMC, Lucknow, I am feeling more elated now to be alumni of BHU for its cordial, generous and warm behavior and also for its lush, green, sparkling and beautiful campus.

Clouds

When I see in the infinite sky

I see the white and black clouds

Giving a finite picture

Of everything one remember

Is it God’s art?

Painting in the ecstasy

Touching, relishing through the drops

Of rain and letting us to feel

The dance, the song of existence

And the love and gratefulness

Without any prejudice or injustice