Blog: Of a Thinking Dog.

Mojito and Eggs.

2010-09-04T22:21:00.000+05:30

Mojito and Eggs - Goa, January, 2010.

क्यों लिखता हूँ हिंदी में?

2010-08-06T07:09:00.002+05:30

सीधा सा जवाब है - भई हिंदी भाषी हिन्दुस्तानी हूँ इसीलिए. अगर पाकिस्तानी होता, तो अवश्य हिंदी में ना लिखकर उर्दू में लिख रहा होता. पर ईश्वर की असीम अनुकम्पा से वो तो मैं हूँ नहीं.

पर क्या जवाब वास्तव में इतना सीधा-सरल है? शायद नहीं. सीधा होता तब, जब यही सवाल किसी जापानी, फ्रेंच, जर्मन या चीनी से पूछा जाता कि भई आप अंग्रेजी में ना लिखकर जापानी, फ्रेंच, जर्मन या चीनी भाषा में क्यों लिखते हो? पर हम हिन्दुस्तानियों के साथ मुझे नहीं लगता कि ऐसा है.

लोग हैं जो अक्सर यह पूछ बैठते हैं - "आप बिहारी हो?"

"हाँ. हूँ." - मैं जवाब देता हूँ. और यदि पूछने वाला राज ठाकरे जैसी मानसिकता का शिकार नहीं है तो अक्सर मुझे यह पता होता है कि अगला प्रश्न क्या होने जा रहा है.

"फिर तो आप बिहारी जानते होंगे?" - अगला प्रश्न. पता नहीं क्यों काफ़ी लोगों को ऐसा लगता है कि "बिहारी" कोई भाषा भी है.

"जी नहीं, बिहारी तो मुझे नहीं आती. और बिहारी कोई भाषा है भी नहीं. हाँ, बिहार में बोलियाँ अवश्य कई सारी बोली जाती हैं जैसे की भोजपुरी, मैथिलि और बज्जिका. मैं बज्जिका-भाषी प्रदेश का रहने वाला हूँ, पर खेद इस बात का है कि मुझे बज्जिका भी नहीं आती." - मैं अपनी इज्जत को ताक पर रख देता हूँ.

हाँ! यह शत-प्रतिशत सही है कि मुझे अपनी ही बोली नहीं आती. नानाजी नौकरी-पेशा थे और एक ट्रांसफरेबल जॉब में थे, शायद इसी वजह से माँ को कोई स्थानीय बोली नहीं आती थी. नतीजतन घर में हमेशा हिंदी का ही प्रयोग हुआ. कक्षा ४ से हॉस्टल में था इसलिए महनार आना जाना भी छोटी-छोटी छुट्टियों में ही हो पाता था. इसलिए बज्जिका भाषा से बदकिस्मती से अछूता ही रह गया. (यह बात अलग है कि विद्यालय में बंगाली की पढ़ाई होने के कारण बंगाली सिख गया. पर बंगाली को जानना बज्जिका को नहीं जानने का बहाना तो नहीं हो सकता ना?)

फिर दूसरा प्रहार तब हुआ जब विद्यालय से दशम वर्ग कि परीक्षा उत्तीर्ण की. इससे पहले की भाँप पाता, हिंदी से भी धीरे-धीरे कब दूरी बढ़ती चली गयी पता ही नहीं चला. पहले तो वह कक्षा ११ और १२ के पाठ्यक्रम से गायब हुई, और फिर आहिस्ता-आहिस्ता अखबार तक अंग्रेजी हो गया. हद तो तब हो गयी जब यह पाया कि भई हिंदी सिनेमा में भी हिंदी की देवनागरी लिपि का नहीं बल्कि अंग्रेजी की रोमन लिपि का प्रयोग हो रहा है. बताइए, हिंदी को सशक्त करने का सबसे सटीक तरीका शायद हिंदी सिनेमा ही होगा, और हिंदी वहाँ से भी निकाल बाहर की गई. यह तो गनीमत है कि ऐसी स्थिति अभी तक अन्य भाषाओं की नहीं हुई है. और शुभ यह है कि आजकल कई हिंदी टी.वी. सिरिअल्स देवनागरी लिपि का प्रयोग करते दिख रहे हैं.

यह सिर्फ हिंदी की नहीं, बल्कि कमोबेश इस देश की तमाम भाषाओं की वेदना है. देश इतना वृहद् और विभिन्नता भरा है कि इस देश को एकजुट रखने का और परस्पर एक दूसरे को समझने-समझाने का सारा श्रेय अकेली अंग्रेजी के झोले में चला जाता है. ऊपर से समूचे विश्व में शायद हम ही एकमात्र ऐसे देश हैं जहाँ सारी की सारी आर्थिक तरक्की एक मूलतः विदेशी भाषा के कन्धों पर टिकी है. मजाल है किसी की जो अंग्रेजी ना जानते हुए भी इस देश में एक अच्छा कार्पोरेट करिअर बना ले? जापान, फ्रांस, चीन या जर्मनी में तो ऐसा नहीं होता? और ये सारे के सारे राष्ट्र विश्व-भाषा अंग्रेजी को ना जानते हुए भी हमसे कहीं अधिक बड़ी आर्थिक ताकतें हैं.

ज़िन्दगी जीने की दौड़ में लगे-लगे हिंदी कब व्यक्तिगत रूप से भी बस बोलचाल की भाषा बनकर रह गयी पता ही नहीं चला. स्कूल, कॉलेज की पुस्तकें अंग्रेजी में, हिंदी सिनेमा अंग्रेजी में, दुकानों के बोर्ड्स अंग्रेजी में. यहाँ तक की आजकल छोटे से छोटे होटलों के मेनू कार्ड्स भी अंग्रेजी में ही होते हैं. कभी-कभी तो ऐसा लगता है कि अंग्रेजी सही में हमारी ताकत है या केवल आज-तलक गुलाम-मानसिकता में जकड़े होने का प्रमाण. राजनैतिक नेताओं के तरीकों से मैं इत्तेफाक नहीं रखता, पर हाँ इतना अवश्य मुझे समझ में नहीं आता कि अंग्रेजी के साथ-साथ अपनी ही मातृभाषाओं को होटलों के मेनू कार्ड्स, दुकानों के बोर्ड्स या सिनेमा के पर्दों पर बराबर की जगह क्यों नहीं मिल सकती?

एक बात है, अंग्रेजी चाहे कितनी भी महत्वपूर्ण क्यों ना हो जाए, रहेगी वह हमेशा व्यापार की भाषा ही. उसका सम्बन्ध हमेशा पेट से पहले होगा और दिल से बाद में. और रोज़मर्रा की ज़िन्दगी से हैरान-परेशान इंसान कितना भी अंग्रेजी में टाएँ-टाएँ क्यों ना कर ले, सुकून के, अपनत्व भरे दो पलों के लिए वह वापस अपनी मातृभाषा की तरफ ही मुखातिब होगा - फिर उसकी मातृभाषा चाहे हिंदी हो, मराठी हो, बंगाली, पंजाबी, कन्नड़, मलयालयम, मणिपुरी हो या उन १,६५२ भाषाओँ में से कोई हो जो इस देश में बोली जाती हैं, कोई फर्क नहीं पड़ता. विश्वास नहीं होता तो अपनी भाषा में लिखी कोई साहित्यिक किताब उठाकर देखिये कि वह किस प्रकार आपको मरुभूमि सरीखे ताप से भरे व्यापार जगत से दूर किसी ठंढे, शांत, सुरम्य प्रदेश में ले जा छोड़ती है.

जब ब्लोगिंग शुरू की तो अंग्रेजी में की. हिंदी से दूरियाँ इस कदर बढ़ गयीं थी कि यह सोच पाना भी मुश्किल हो गया था कि कभी अपनी ही भाषा में कोई ढ़ंग का आर्टिकल लिख पाऊँगा. पर फिर एक कोशिश की तो पाया कि थोड़े से परिश्रम की आवश्यकता है - हिंदी लेखन को भुला नहीं हूँ, बस वह पीछे कहीं खो भर गया है. बस तभी से कोशिश यही है कि अपने हिंदी लेखन को और सशक्त किया जाए और अपने इस ब्लॉग को एक द्विभाषीय ब्लॉग का जामा पहनाया जाए.

हिंदी में बस इसलिए नहीं लिखता कि एक हिंदी-भाषी हिन्दुस्तानी हूँ, बल्कि इसलिए कि हिंदी में लेखन पूजा है, प्रायश्चित है, साधना है, भक्ति है, इण्डिया बनने की होर में दूर कही पीछे छूटते भारत को पकड़े रहने की कोशिश है. हिंदी में इसलिए लिखता हूँ क्योंकि हिंदी में लेखन एक ज़रिया है खुद को ढूंढ़ निकालने का.

PS - विकिपीडिया के मुताबिक १९६१ में हुए सेन्सस में यह पाया गया था कि भारत में कुल १,६५२ मातृभाषाएं हैं. सम्बंधित आर्टिकल के लिए यहाँ क्लिक करें.

Silhouette - I

2010-07-26T20:11:00.000+05:30

Khushi - In the sweltering hot Mahnar Summer.

महनारनामा

2010-07-23T21:19:00.001+05:30

बिट्टू!! उठेगा नहीं? अबेर हो गया है. गंगाजी जाना नहीं है निहाने के लिए? - दादी मच्छरदानी खोलती जाती है और मुझे उठाने की भी कोशिश करती जाती है.

मैं अनमने भाव से करवट बदलता हूँ और तकिये के बगल में पड़े मोबाइल में समय देखता हूँ. साढ़े ४ बजे हैं अभी सिर्फ .. सुबह के साढ़े ४. बाहर छत पर धुंधलका अभी भी पसरा हुआ है.

अब दादी की आवाज़ बगल के कमरे से आ रही है .. वो अब प्रयत्नशील है ख़ुशी और बुन्नु को बिस्तर से बाहर निकालने के लिए.

कुछ देर बाद मुँह-हाथ धोकर हम सब गंगाजी की दिशा में रवाना होते हैं .. अँधेरा अभी भी पूरी तरह से छंटा नहीं है, पर गंगाजी की तरफ लोग अच्छी-खासी संख्या में मुखातिब हैं.

पर गंगाजी हैं कि वो अब खुद पहले वाली गंगा नहीं रहीं. जो सड़क हमारे घर से गंगाजी की ओर जाती है उसके गंगाजी वाले सिरे पर पीपल का एक बुढ़ा पेड़ काफी दिनों से खड़ा है. करीब ७-८ साल पहले तक गंगा का विस्तार इस पीपल से मुश्किल से करीब १५-२० मी. की दूरी पर हुआ करता था. पर अब गंगा इस स्थान से करीब ३-साढ़े ३ किलोमीटर की दूरी पर बहती है. पता नहीं यह बदलते हुए मौसम-चक्र का दुष्परिणाम है या गंगा ने मात्र अपना रास्ता बदल लिया है.

पहले जहाँ गंगा बहती थी, वहाँ अब बरसात को छोड़ बाकी सारे वर्ष खेती होती है. हाँ, बरसात के दिनों में यहाँ भी लबालब पानी भर जाता है .. पानी का इतना भयंकर विस्तार - सोंचकर ही कपकपी सी हो जाती है. पीपल के पेड़ की छांह में बैठे बूढ़े बाबा ना जाने कैसे हमारी बातें सुन लेते हैं और पीपल से कुछ दूर एक हलकी सी ऊँची जगह की ओर इशारा कर खुद-ब-खुद कहते हैं - जे दिन एतना पानी परतउ कि ई ऊचाई तक छू जेतउ उ दिन समझ ले पटना दू-मंजिला इमारत तक डूब जेतउ.

गंगाजी में नहाने का कार्यक्रम हर दिन का है. हम रोज़ सुबह ४-साढ़े ४ बजे तड़के उठते हैं और गंगा तक की साढ़े ३ किलोमीटर की यात्रा सम्पन्न करते हैं. छोटा सा दल है हमारा - दादी, छोटा बाबू, मैं, ख़ुशी और बुन्नु .. पहले दो-तीन दिन निशु और नितिन भैया भी साथ थे. हर दिन स्नान के दौरान छोटा बाबू ख़ुशी और बुन्नु को पानी में ले जाकर छोड़ देते हैं. कहते हैं - जब तक डूबेगा नहीं, हेलना कैसे सीखेगा? और वाकई, ख़ुशी १०-१२ दिनों के अंतराल में में ही तैरना सिख गयी है .. अब बस आवश्यकता है तो थोड़े-बहुत अभ्यास की. स्कूल खुलते-खुलते आशा है वो एक ठीक-ठाक तैराक तो हो ही जायेगी .. स्कूल खुलने में अभी ३ सप्ताह बाकी भी तो हैं ..

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दूकान से घर और घर से दूकान करते-करते महनार में दिन किस तेज़ी से बीतते हैं पता ही नहीं चलता. एक दोपहर जब मैं और ख़ुशी दूकान पर अकेले हैं तो हम जोड़ने की कोशिश करते हैं कि कितनी सारी ऐसी दवाइयां हैं जिनका स्थान हमें पता है और जिन्हें हम छोटा बाबु की अनुपस्थिति में भी बेच सकते हैं .. जोड़-जाड़ के ब-मुश्किल २५-३० माल ऐसा निकलता है जिसके स्थान के बारे में हमारी जानकारी पुख्ता है. अगर इस बात को ध्यान में रखा जाए कि मैं साल में मुश्किल से दो-चार दिन ही महनार आ पाता हूँ और ख़ुशी भी पढ़ाई के लिए पटना में ही रहती है, यह अंक भी शायद एक बड़ी उपलब्धि ही है.

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घर से जाते-आते रास्ते में लगभग हर कोई मुझे यहाँ पहचानता है .. मगर मैं लगभग किसी को भी ढंग से नहीं जानता. लोग हैं जो अनायास ही पूछ बैठते हैं - त? महनार अब अईसे ही चलतउ? ज़िन्दगी बम्बैय्ये में गुजार देना है या घर भी कभी आना है?

एक शाम लावापुर वाले दादाजी घर आते हैं, मुझे देखकर कहते हैं - महनार आते रहना. ज़िन्दगी में कुछ रखा है? कुछ नहीं रखा.

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महनार से निकलने वाले दिन तय होता है कि मैं छोटा बाबू के साथ ही मोटर-साइकल पर पटना चला जाऊंगा. दोपहर तक हमें निकलने की बात है, मगर दूकान बंद करते-करते और निकलते-निकलते रात के नौ हो जाते हैं. रास्ता लगभग सुनसान ही है .. बस बीच-बीच में दो-चार बाज़ार हैं जहाँ अभी भी चहल-पहल है. इसके सिवा मौसम लगन का है, इसलिए कहीं-कहीं इक्का-दुक्का बारातें भी मिल जाती हैं .. इसके सिवा हर तरफ अँधेरा पसरा हुआ है और ख़ामोशी है जिसे बस हमारी बातचीत और गाड़ी की आवाज़ ही भंग कर रही है. छोटा बाबू मोटर-साइकल काफी संभल कर चलाते हैं - ३०-३५ की स्पीड से गाड़ी कभी ऊपर नहीं जाती .. मैं बार-बार कोशिश करता हूँ कि हाथ की मुट्ठियों में महनार को जकड़ लूं मगर महनार है की ३०-३५ की स्पीड से ही सही मुट्ठियों में कैद रेत की मानिंद फिसलता चला जाता है .. अब फिर से एक लम्बा अंतराल होगा ८-१० महीने का इसके पहले की मैं वापस महनार आ सकूँ ..

छद्म किसान का असल परिवार - मैं, ख़ुशी, दादी और बुन्नु - गंगाजी के रास्ते में - पृष्ठभूमि में पसरी सारी ज़मीन कभी गंगा का अभिन्न अंग हुआ करती थी. आज भी बरसात के मौसम में यह हिस्सा पानी से लबालब भरा होता है.

मैंने हल भी चलाया - ज़िन्दगी में पहली बार.

बुन्नु बाबू की ख़ुशी तो देखिये - हल क्या जोत लिया मानो दुनिया की सारी खुशियाँ इनके झोले में आ गयीं.

दादी और मैं - गंगा स्नान के बाद गंगा को पूजते हुए.

P S - ये सारे घटनाक्रम जून, २०१० के प्रथम दो सप्ताह के हैं. काफ़ी दिनों से यह पोस्ट लिख रखा था, पर लैपटॉप के अभाव में तस्वीरें मोबाइल से लैपटॉप पर ट्रांसफर नहीं हो पायीं थीं.

The Power of Ideas.

2010-07-04T10:22:00.002+05:30

It is still not long back that a MAN rose. Although he was born near the Western coast of the present day India, he found his purpose in life in a land on the opposite end of the Indian Ocean. It so happened that one fine day he was travelling in a first class railway compartment with a valid first class railway ticket. However, since he was a black and the compartment was apparently reserved only for the white masters, he was asked to move to the third class compartment. Strangely enough, he refused and had to be forcefully thrown out of the compartment.

The far-off land was South Africa. And the man was a young barrister by the name of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi.

Now, incidents like this must have had been a daily affair all over the slave-world in the times when colonialism was the order of the day. Hundreds of people must have been thrown out of their compartments in a like-wise fashion. A few were men-enough to rise against the atrocity and claim their rightful place in the order of the humans. One of them was Mohandas.

The resources, if any, that he had to support himself and rely upon during his initial period of struggle were scanty. And the enemy that he was daring to stand up against was an empire so large that the sun never set completely on it. However, Mohandas had an idea that he wanted to implement, and he had so much faith in that idea of his that he was ready to work upon it, gradually evolve it and, if necessary lay down his life in order to prove it. The idea was Non-Violence and Satyagrah.

All that he had to say to his fellow countrymen was - "Speak truth. Be non-violent. Koi agar tumhe ek gaal pe thappar maare to dusara gaal aage kar do. Maar khao, itni adhik aur itni nirlajjata se maar khaao ki ek din maarne waala maarte-maarte thak jaaye aur wapas jahan se aaya tha wahin chala jaaye."

Weird, crazy and a laughable idea indeed. I wonder how he even dared to utter this idea in front of the public in general. Was he not afraid of being branded as a madman and being laughed at?

Whatever! The struggle began. The team started getting built up slowly. Over a period of time, the movement caught fire. The idea worked. And on 15th of August, 1947, a new star arose on the horizon. That star was India. Gandhi had achieved mostly what he had set out to achieve. He had made a land as unique as India all the more unique. While all the other nations were getting independence by violent means, we were the only one to get it mostly by a peaceful and non-violent method. And in the process, he himself had graduated from being just Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi to Gandhi and then to Mahatma and Bapu. By the time the nation got independence, Mohandas was no longer important. It was Gandhi all over.

With the support and deadly determination of those who believed in them, it has always been IDEAS that have evolved the world. And the strange-most thing that seems to be with these world-changing ideas is that they always come in packages so simple that they, in most of the cases, if not all, tend to get overlooked. In their early stages, they are so weird and laughable to look at that it needs immense courage and belief on the part of those who believe in them to hold their ground. And this happens to be the case with all the walks of life – be it Science - where a few crazy scientists dared to go against the Church and said that it is the Earth that goes round the Sun and not the other way round and were in fact hanged till death for their courage to go against the institution that claimed to represent the God himself; or be it Business – where Muhammad Yunus comes from Bangladesh, believes earnestly that poor can be bankable, works on the idea and proves it to the world that the big multinational banking giants are in fact highly mistaken when they say that poor are not credit worthy.

Most of us must have had some crazy idea or the other at some stage in our life. And most of us decided to give that crazy idea a cold shoulder and either ignore it completely or leave it to be worked upon at some later stage in life. It is sad - the way the ideas get overlooked because of the lack of courage on the part of the humans. And it is important that they be worked upon. After all those who live in the memory of the human race long after they are gone are those who, against all odds, believed in their ideas and dared to implement it. The rest, once they die, get lost as if they never existed at all.

The history of the world is truly the history of a few men who had faith in their ideas.

Believe in your IDEAS. In most of the cases, they are worth dying for.

माँ को गए ३ वर्ष हो गए.

2010-06-26T22:00:00.045+05:30

पता नहीं ये सब लिखना भी चाहिए या नहीं, पर काफी दिनों से इन बातों को लिखना चाह रहा हूँ. इस लेख के दो भाग हैं - पहला वो जो थोड़ी बहुत आपबीती है और दूसरा वो जो उन मित्रों के प्रति धन्यवाद व्यक्त करता है जो जरूरत के वक़्त मेरे साथ कंधे से कन्धा मिलाकर खड़े रहे.

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वो दिन बुरे थे .. काफी बुरे.

जब घर से अनिल छोटा बाबू का फ़ोन आया तो मैं करिअर लौन्चर में क्लास कर रहा था. मुझसे कहा गया कि माँ की तबियत काफी बिगड़ गयी है और उसे बम्बई में टाटा मेमोरिअल अस्पताल में जांच के लिए ले जाना है. माँ काफी सालों से हार्ट-पेशेंट थी - मुझसे कहा गया कि वही बिमारी सहसा काफी बिगड़ गयी है.

शाम को इंटरनेट कैफे में जब टाटा मेमोरिअल के वेबसाइट पर उनका पता, इत्यादि देख रहा था तो काफी कोशिशों के बावजूद ह्रदय रोग विभाग के बारे में कुछ भी पता नहीं चला. हाँ, कैंसर के ऊपर भरी-पूरी जानकारी थी. मुझे याद है मैं काफी झुंझला गया था उस दिन इंटरनेट कैफे मैं - टाटा का मुंबई स्थित अस्पताल और वेबसाइट पूरी तरह से अपडेटेड भी नहीं है. बाकी देश का हाल बुरा होने में कोई अचंभित कर देने वाली बात तो होनी ही नहीं चाहिए.

ख़ैर, मैं पुणे में था और मुंबई जाकर मुझे एक होटल बुक करके रखना था. माँ चलने-फिरने में असमर्थ है, इसलिए प्रयास यही करना था कि कमरा ग्राउंड फ्लोर पर ही हो. मुंबई मैं उस समय गौरव भैया के अलावा कोई भी ठौर-ठिकाना था नहीं, इसलिए प्रथम दिन उन्ही के यहाँ पोवई में जाकर रुका. गौरव भैया से मेरी जान-पहचान १०-१५ दिनों से अधिक की नहीं थी. पुणे में जिस पी.जी. में मैंने पहली बार डेरा जमाया था, गौरव भैया उसी पी.जी. में रह रहे थे. सोंचता हूँ कुछ लोग कितने कम दिनों के साथ के बावजूद ज़िन्दगी भर के लिए मित्र बन जाते हैं, जबकि अन्य लोगों से कितने भी दिनों की जान-पहचान क्यों ना हो जाए, मित्रता तो हो ही नहीं सकती.

अगले दिन अस्पताल के रास्ते में मोबाइल बस में ही कहीं गिर गया. दौड़ कर वापस बस में चढ़कर उसे खोजने की कोशिश भी की, पर मुंबई की भीड़ भरी बस में उसे नहीं मिलना था, सो नहीं मिला. सारे नंबर गायब. यह तो अच्छा था कि गौरव भैया का नंबर एहतियात के तौर पर जेब में अलग से लिखकर रख लिया था. हमारे स्कूल के बैच की एक कॉमन इ-मेल आई-डी उन दिनों रेडिफ पर हुआ करती थी. गौरव भैया को फ़ोन करके कहा कि उसपर मेरी तरफ से एक मेल डालें और लिखें कि मुझे ब्रजेश के नंबर की सख्त आवश्यकता है - अगले दस पंद्रह मिनटों के अन्दर. थोड़ी ही देर में ब्रजेश के नंबर से सम्बंधित कम से कम पांच मेल इन-बोक्स में थे. ब्रजेश को फ़ोन मिलाया और फिर उससे ही छोटा बाबू का नंबर लिया.

इस बीच जब यह सब हो रहा था, मैं अस्पताल के काउंटर पर जाकर ह्रदय-विभाग के बारे में पूछताछ कर रहा था. पर जैसे ही मैंने पूछा, वहाँ खड़ी नर्स ने मुझे इस कदर घुर कर देखा मानो मैं कोई अजूबा हूँ. कहती है - आपको पता नहीं ये कैंसर का अस्पताल है, हार्ट का नहीं? पूरी दुनिया ये जानती है.

मुझे काटो तो खून नहीं. भागा-भागा बाहर गया. बूथ से छोटा बाबू का नंबर डायल किया तो उधर ने बोला गया - जितना बोला गया है, उतना करो. ज्यादा सोंचने की आवश्यकता नहीं है. सोंचने के लिए बाकी लोग हैं घर पर.

कोई कुछ भी खुल कर बताने को तैयार नहीं था. और मैं परेशान था - 'माँ को कैंसर कैसे हो सकता है. पूरे परिवार में बस एक बूढी दादी ही हैं जो बीड़ी पीया करती थीं, वो भी उन्हें छोड़े ज़माना होने को आया. बाकी किसी का भी बीड़ी-सिगरेट से दूर-दूर का कोई रिश्ता नहीं. और मुजफ्फरपुर में तो कोई अधिक प्रदुषण भी नहीं है.' वो तो जब बाद में माँ को लेकर अस्पताल में दाखिल हुआ तो देखा की यहाँ तो भई छः महीने - साल भर के बच्चे भी इलाज करवा रहे हैं. असल में बात ये है ये यह रोग किस कारण वश होता है, यह किसी को भी नहीं पता. धुम्रपान करने से इसके होने की संभावना बढ़ अवश्य जाती है, पर यह कोई पत्थर पर लिखी लकीर नहीं कि जो धुम्रपान करता है, उसे कैंसर हो ही जाएगा, या कि जो नहीं करता वह इससे बचा रहेगा. अगर इस बात को मद्देनज़र रखा जाए तो विश्व की दो सबसे भयंकर बीमारियों - कैंसर और एड्स - में से कैंसर अधिक भयावह मालूम होती है. एड्स का तो कारण लगभग सभी को पता है, इसलिए उससे बचाव भी किया जा सकता है, कैंसर से बचने का कोई उपाय नहीं.

ख़ैर अब बात जरूरत से अधिक गंभीर मालूम हो रही थी. काफी खोज-बिन के बाद जाकर एक होटल मिला जिसमें ग्राउंड-फ्लोर पर कमरे थे. काफी छोटे-छोटे, अँधेरे और तंग. किसी पेशेंट के ठहरने लायक तो एकदम भी नहीं. पर डूबते को तो तिनके का सहारा भी काफी लगता है. कुछ और उपाय ना देखकर मैंने उसे ही बुक कर लिया - 'एक बार टिकने को कोई जगह हो जाए, बाकी बाद में देखी जायेगी.'

इस अस्पताल के साथ कुछ बुनियादी दिक्कतें हैं - अस्पताल मुंबई के बीचों-बीच लोअर-परेल में स्थित है. ज़मीन और रियल स्टेट का भाव यहाँ इस प्रकार आसमान छूता है कि ग्राउंड-फ्लोर पर दुकानें बनाना अधिक लाभदायक साबित होता है. कोई आश्चर्य की बात नहीं कि हमारे २२-२५ दिनों के स्टे के बावजूद हमें कोई और होटल ऐसा नहीं मिला जिसमें ग्राउंड-फ्लोर पर भी कमरें हों. और बात यहीं तक सिमित होकर रह जाती तो फिर भी ठीक था, पर भैय्या ये तो मुंबई सहरिया ठहरी - मायानगरी. लोअर परेल में ही नहीं, मुंबई के लगभग सारे छोटे-बड़े होटलों में धंधे चलते हैं. और धंधे भी ऐसे कि होटल वाले मरीजों तक की परेशानियों को समझने की ज़रुरत नहीं समझते. लगभग हर दिन ही हमारे बगल के कमरे में ठहरे नेपाली मरीज़ों को सुबह-सुबह कमरा खाली करना पड़ता था. दिन भर बेचारे अस्पताल में गुजारते, और फिर रात को अपने कमरे में आकर टिकते. तिसपर बात ये कि भाड़ा भी होटल वाले को २४ घंटे का चाहिए. इंसान जब तक अपने पैरों पे खड़ा है, तभी तक ठीक है. साला जिस दिन थोड़ा सा भी लड़खड़ाये, भेड़िये भरे परे हैं हर ओर इंसानी शक्लों में - नोंच-नोंच कर खा जाने को तत्पर.

शाम की ट्रेन से माँ आई. साथ में पापा और छोटे मामाजी थे. मैं स्टेशन मास्टर से व्हील-चेयर लेकर प्लेटफ़ॉर्म पर इंतज़ार कर रहा था. माँ को उसपर बैठाया और टैक्सी ली. माँ काफी कमज़ोर हो गयी थी. बोलने की भी शक्ति नहीं थी. अभी कुछ दिनों पहले ही तो मैं घर से लौटा था. कितने अच्छे से हमने घर को दिवाली में मिलकर सजाया था. कैम्पस में ही सही, पर शाम को माँ के साथ टहलने भी गया था. माँ को खांसी थी, नोर्मल दवाएं जो उसमें चलती है, चल रही थी. बात इतनी तेज़ी से बिगड़ी है, देखकर भी विश्वास नहीं हो रहा था. और पापा - वो भी तो ऐसे दिख रहे थे मानों कई दिनों से ठीक से सोये भी ना हों. जो भी बातें हुयीं, मुख्यतः मामाजी से ही हुयीं. माँ बात करने के लायक नहीं थी और पापा से क्या बात करूँ - और किस तरह - मेरी समझ के परे था.

इलाज़ जो चलना था, चला. जो-जो टेस्ट डॉक्टर ने कहा, कराया गया. इस देश में जनसंख्या इतनी अधिक है और बुनियादी ज़रूरतों की चीज़ें इतनी कम कि रिपोर्ट आते-आते ही सप्ताह भर गुज़र गया. इस बीच डॉक्टर कोई भी दवाई चलाने से सख्त इनकार कर रहा था. कहता था - 'जब बिमारी ही नहीं पता, तो दवा क्या चलायें.'

करीब दो-तीन महीने बाद जब लैंस आर्मस्ट्रोंग की किताब 'इट्स नॉट एबाउट दा बाइक: माई जर्नी बैक तो लाईफ' पढ़ी तो उसमें सन्दर्भ था - लैंस अपने रोग की जांच परताल कराने किसी छोटे से शहर में जाता है - फोर व्हीलर से - सवेरे अस्पताल में दाखिल होता है और शाम तक सारी रिपोर्ट उसके हाथ में होती है. भारत आर्थिक स्थिति के तौर पर कहीं भी क्यों ना पहुँच गया हो, ज़मीनी सच्चाई तो यही है कि हमारे यहाँ बेसिक नेसेसिटिज की भारी कमी है. भाजपा का 'इंडिया-शाइनिंग' कैम्पेन कितना खाली और अर्थहीन था, यह वही समझ सकता है जो रोज़मर्रा की ज़रूरतों के लिए आज भी दर-दर भटकने को बाध्य है. कोई आश्चर्य नहीं कि जनता से पूर्ण-रूपेण कटी सरकार और ए.सी. लगे दफ्तरों में बैठे उनके पोलिसी-मेकर्स के द्वारा बनायी गयी दलील जनता के गले नहीं उतरी और भाजपा को देश की तमाम आर्थिक उपलब्धियों के बावजूद मुँह की खानी पड़ी.

रिपोर्ट को लेकर डॉक्टर से मिला गया. देखकर डॉक्टर कहता है - 'फोर्थ स्टेज है. अधिक से अधिक डेढ़ साल और.' माँ को अभी तक यह पता नहीं था उसे क्या बिमारी है. उस दिन जब पता चला तो मुझसे पूछती है - 'तुमको पता था ना?' मैं क्या बोलता? अभी भी तो उसे अर्ध-सत्य ही बताया गया था. बताया गया था - 'बिमारी फर्स्ट स्टेज में है. इतने बड़े अस्पताल में इतनी दूर से आयें हैं. ठीक तो होना ही है.' इंसान भी ना - अजीब प्राणी है. थोड़ी सी दिलासा देने के लिए कितनी बड़ी बात छुपा जाता है. और माँ - वो भी कितनी भोली थी. हम झूठ बोलते रहे और वो हमारी झूठी बातों को सुनकर बच जाने के सपने देखती रही. लगभग ३ महीनों के बाद जब फरवरी में हम दुबारा आये थे उसे लेकर चेक-अप के लिए तब जाकर उसे ज्ञात हुआ था कि असली स्थिति क्या है. अजीब बात यह है कि बीच में उसकी तबियत काफी हद तक संभल गयी थी. फरवरी में जब आई थी, थोड़ा बहुत चल-फिर भी रही थी. कोशिश करती थी कि व्हील-चेयर पे ना ही बैठे. आहिस्ता-आहिस्ता ही सही, पर लम्बी दूरियाँ खुद से तय कर लेती थी. पर फरवरी में चेक-अप के बाद जब हमने डॉक्टर से पूछा कि दुबारा कब आना है, उसने हमीं से पलटकर पूछा था - 'कब आना चाहते हैं?' शायद वह समझ चुका था कि ये सुधार वास्तव में कोई सुधार है ही नहीं.

माँ ३० जून, २००७ को शाम के लगभग साढ़े ५ बजे के आस पास चली गयी. मैं कॉलेज का लगभग एक पूरा सेमेस्टर कॉलेज से गायब था. इसलिए यह जानते हुए भी कि बात कभी भी बिगड़ सकती है, १६ जून को मुझे वापस पुणे की ट्रेन से रवाना कर दिया गया था. ३० जून को माँ की तबियत पटना में लगातार बन-बिगड़ रही थी. मैं लगातार घर से फोन पर बना रहा था. साढ़े ५ बजे के आस-पास बोला जाता है कि जैसे भी बन पड़े, घर आ जाओ. जेनरल की टिकट लेकर ही गाड़ी के स्लीपर कोच में सवार होता हूँ. अगले दिन गाड़ी वर्धा में रुकती है तो मोबाइल में कुछ सिग्नल आता है. घर पर फ़ोन करता हूँ तो पापा बोलते हैं माँ को महनार ले जाया जा रहा है. अटपटा सा है कुछ. 'इतनी ख़राब हालत में महनार क्यों ले जा रहे हैं?' - मैं पूछता हूँ तो पापा कुछ बोलते नहीं. छोटे दादाजी का थोड़ी देर में फोन आता है तो असल बात पता चलती है. दिन के लगभग साढ़े ८, ९ के करीब हो रहे हैं. माँ को गए ऑलरेडी तक़रीबन १५-साढ़े १५ घंटे हो चुके हैं.

उधर सौरभ को तो कुछ भी पता नहीं. उससे अभी तक सारी बातें गुप्त रखी गयीं हैं - यह बोलकर कि मेडिकल की पढ़ाई भारी होती है. बच्चा वहाँ अकेला है, पता चलने पर रह भी पायेगा या नहीं. वह बस फरवरी में मुंबई आया था माँ से मिलने और फिर २८ जून को माँ ने उससे लगभग ४५ मी. बातें की थी फोने पे - समझाया था काफी उसे. सौरभ को खबर होने में अभी भी शायद शाम तक का वक्त है.

माँ को गए अब तीन वर्ष होने को आये हैं. ३० जून को उसके बिना तीन वर्ष पूरे हो जायेंगे. बिमारी के दौरान काफी लोगों के सही चेहरे सामने आये. कुछ लोग साबुत पलट गए, तो कुछ ऐसे भी रहे जो तत्परता से हमलोगों के साथ कायम रहे. इंसान की परख तो भई बुरे वक़्त में ही होती है. आसमाँ जब साफ हो तो संग हर कोई चलता है, पर साथ जो हो बारिश में भी, ऐसे मुट्ठी भर लोग ही होते हैं.

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घर-परिवार की तो बात ही अलग होती है, विद्यापीठ के दोस्तों ने और गौरव भैया ने भी काफी साथ निभाया उन दिनों. २-४ ही लोग थे उस वक़्त जो ऑलरेडी जॉब में आ चुके थे. माँ को पहली बार जब पटना पहुँचा कर पुणे लौटा तो सोंचा था कि आखिरी साल का सारा खर्च खुद से निकालना है, घर से एक पैसा भी नहीं लेना. लोगों को मेल किया तो बिना कोई नौकरी पास में रहे भी ९०,००० चंद दिनों के भीतर जमा हो गए. सोंचता हूँ - पता नहीं अगर विद्यापीठ के अलावा बाकी किसी स्कूल से पढाई की होती तो ये संभव हो पाता क्या? विद्यापीठ में गुजारे वो ९ वर्ष अपने-आप में एक दूसरी ज़िन्दगी है, और विद्यापीठ का कर्ज किस भाँती चुका पाऊंगा यह मुझे पता नहीं. और लोग हैं, जो अभी भी उनका अकाउंट नंबर मांगो पैसे लौटने के लिए तो बोलते हैं - 'बहुत पैसा हो गया है तेरे पास? भेज दूंगा नंबर.' और नंबर है जो आता ही नहीं.

विद्यापीठ का यह सहारा एक बहुत बड़ी ताकत है. अभी कुछ दिनों पहले एक और मित्र की माँ की तबियत बिगड़ी थी, दिल्ली में इलाज चल रहा था. और लोग एक बार फिर से उठ खड़े हुए थे मदद के लिए. उसकी माँ की तबियत अब अच्छी है.

आशा करता हूँ कि विद्यापीठ के द्वारा प्रदान की गयी यह एकता ता-उम्र कायम रहेगी.

सारी तस्वीरें बोस्की दीदी के सौजन्य से.

विद्यापीठ - मार की वह शाम.

2010-06-22T20:06:00.000+05:30

बचपन से ही मैं काफी शांत स्वभाव का बालक रहा हूँ. यही कारण रहा कि ज़िन्दगी में कभी अधिक मार-पिटाई नहीं खाई. माँ और पापा की भी कभी हाथ उठाने की आदत थी नहीं, इसलिए भी शायद मार खाने से घर पर हमेशा बचा रहा. पापा से तो एक बार फिर भी याद है कि एक थप्पर खाया था. कारण था - वो मुझे, जब मैं कक्षा ३ में था, गणित का एक प्रश्न काफी देर से समझा रहे थे, और मैं था कि समझने का नाम ही ना ले रहा था. पर माँ से तो पक्का याद है कि कभी भी मार नहीं खाई - वो थी भी तो काफी शांतिप्रिया, कम और काफी समझ-बुझ कर बोलने वाली महिला. इसी कारण वश उस कब्रिस्तान भ्रमण की घटना (इसपर फिर कभी) के बाद भी, जब बोस्की दीदी और नितिन भैया को मार पर रही थी, मुझे माँ ने एकांत में शांत भाव से नसीहतें भर दे कर बख्श दिया था.

बचपन का अधिकतर भाग होस्टल में ही गुजरा. ताबड़तोड़ मार भी वहाँ पड़ती थी बच्चों को गलतियाँ करने पर - ४०० बच्चों की मंडली को काबू में कर पाना कोई आसन काम तो होता नहीं है. मगर फिर भी ना जाने क्यों वहाँ भी, एक-दो वाकयों को छोड़कर, लगभग साबूत ही बच गया मार खाते-खाते.

पहली बार मार का जो वाकया याद आता है, वो रिखिया की घटना है. रिखिया देवघर से कुछ दूरी पर यूँ कहिये एक छोटी सी टाउनशिप है. वही क्लास ४ और ५ के बच्चों को ले जाया जाता था एनुअल पिकनिक के लिए. स्कूल रामकृष्ण मिशन का था इसलिए भजन, इत्यादि पर भी जोर काफी रहता था. शाम का वक़्त था, पिकनिक लगभग समाप्त हो चली थी और हमें चलने से पहले कुछ मंत्रोच्चार करना था. बच्चे थे कि सुन ही नहीं रहे थे. फिर क्या था, शक्ति महाराज की छड़ी उठी और कम से कम ४-५ लोग जो सामने दिखे वो उसकी चपेट में आ गए. मैं भी उनमें से एक बदनसीब था.

ख़ैर! ये तो थी सामूहिक पिटाई में लपेटे में आ जाने वाली बात. असली और ज़िन्दगी की सबसे भयंकर पिटाई सम्बंधित घटना तो शुभंकर महाराज के हाथों सम्पन्न हुई थी. शुभंकर महाराज विद्यापीठ में प्रिंसिपल थे. दिनचर्या स्कूल की कुछ ऐसी थी कि हर शाम को आरती के बाद दो घंटे की स्टडी होती थी - यह वक़्त दिया जाता है स्वाध्याय के लिए. मैं वर्ग ८ में था, मौसम बरसात का था और स्टडी अभी शुरू हुआ ही चाहती थी. बच्चे अपना-अपना स्थान ग्रहण कर रहे थे. वातावरण में हलचल अभी भी व्याप्त थी, हो-हल्ला हो रहा था. मुझे ना जाने क्या सूझी कि मुँह में उँगलियों को भरकर सिटी मारने की कोशिश करने लगा. शुभंकर महाराज अपने राउंड पर थे और बाई-चांस उनकी नज़र मेरी इस हरकत पर पड़ गयी ..

फिर उसके बाद बाकी क्या बचा था? उनकी छड़ी थी, मेरा शरीर था और स्टडी हौल के सामने पसरा वह करीब १०-१२ मी. लम्बा अहाता था. महाराज अहाते के एक कोने से जो छड़ी बरसाना शुरू करते, तो दूसरे कोने पे ही जाकर थमने का नाम लेते थे. और फिर यही प्रक्रिया अहाते के दूसरे कोने से लेकर पहले कोने तक दोहराई जाती थी. साथ ही साथ वो कहते जाते थे - शिटी मारबे? तोमरा बिबेकानोंदेर छेले! एटा-इ शिखेछो एखाने ए-शे? निर्लोज्जो कोथाकार. एतो-टुकोवो लोज्जा पावो नि?

सारा स्टडी हौल सहसा पल भर के अन्दर इस प्रकार शांत हो गया था मानो वहाँ कोई हो ही ना. इससे पहले की महाराज मुझे बख्शते, मार खाते-खाते लगभग १५-२० मिनट तो हो ही गए थे. यह बात अलग है कि उस शाम जी.के. की परीक्षा के बाद लौटते वक़्त गोरा दा मुझे पकड़ कर महाराज के ऑफिस ले गए थे. महाराज ने मुझे समझाया था - तोमरा तो बिद्यापिठेर छेले. तोमरा-ई जोदि बाईरेर छेलेदेर मोतो कौरबे तोबे ए-खाने पौरा-शोना कौरले की लाभ? फिर वही, जो वहाँ जेनरली हुआ करता है, महाराज ने मुझे समझा-बुझाकर इक्लेअर्स की दो टॉफियाँ हाथ में थमा दी थीं.

विद्यापीठ में मार खाना कोई बड़ी बात नहीं थी. ४०० लोगों में से कोई ना कोई तो हर दिन मार खा ही जाता था. पर हाँ, जहाँ तक मेरा सम्बन्ध है, यही एक घटना है ज़िन्दगी में, जब मैंने बे-इंतहां मार खायी थी. चलो, यह भी सही ही रहा - विद्यापीठ में ९ साल रहा और मार एक बार भी नहीं खाई तो फिर रह कर किया ही क्या?

और सबसे दिलचस्प बात जानते हैं क्या है? मार जिस सिटी की वजह से खाई वो आज भी कितनी भी कोशिश क्यों ना कर लूं, मुझसे बजती ही नहीं.

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विद्यापीठ की कुछ ऐतिहासिक छड़ियाँ -

१) ब्लैक पाइप - यह शक्ति महाराज की छड़ी थी. चोरी हो गयी थी एक दिन महाराज के कमरे से और शाम को मीटिंग के दौरान नोटिस भी आई थी कि जिसने भी उसे चुराया है, वापस कर दे. आज भी सोचता हूँ कि इस नोटिस का अभिप्राय क्या था? क्या महाराज ने सही में यह आशा लगा रखी थी कि जिसने भी यह गुस्ताखी की है, वह छड़ी वापस कर देगा? ख़ैर, छड़ी वापस नहीं होनी थी, सो नहीं हुई.

२) समझावन सिंह और बुझावन सिंह - निरंजन महाराज की दो बदनाम छड़ियाँ. निरंजन महाराज परसेंटेज में मारा करते थे. जितनी बड़ी शैतानी, उतना अधिक परसेंट. सीधा और सरल हिसाब.

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१) शक्ति महाराज आजकल वृन्दावन आश्रम में हैं. वृन्दावन में रामकृष्ण मिशन का एक काफी बड़ा चैरिटेबल अस्पताल है और महाराज उसी के सचिव हैं. वर्ष २००० में जब महाराज का तबादला वृन्दावन हुआ था, तो काफी गार्जियंस ऐसे थे जो रो पड़े थे. विद्यापीठ को शक्ति महाराज के बिना तब सोंच पाना भी एक कठिन काम था.

२) शुभंकर महाराज आजकल किस आश्रम में हैं, पता नहीं.

३) निरंजन महाराज फिजी में बसे भारतीये मूल के लोगों के वंशजों में से हैं. विद्यापीठ से तबादला होकर महाराज कुछ दिनों के लिए इंस्टीच्युट आफ कल्चर, कोलकाता में थे. अभी रामकृष्ण मिशन के नादी (फिजी) शहर में स्थित आश्रम में हैं.

Matrimonial

2010-06-20T12:23:00.001+05:30

Applications are invited from eligible, damn beautiful (sole jurisdiction to decide this lies with the advertiser - decision on the spot after first date) female candidates (NRI, single daughter of a FILTHY RICH DAD and absolutely no brother ;-)) for filling up the vacant post. Apply urgently. Limited period offer.

*Conditions Apply

Poachers in the train!

2010-06-13T09:43:00.005+05:30

Simba is sad - With their paws selling for as less as Rs. 500, how many Simbas will ultimately grow up to rule the jungle?

Train Number - 2142

Journey - From Patna to Mumbai

Date - June 12th, 2010

The train is somewhere in the border area of Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra, (most probably in the territory of Maharashtra, although I am not 100% sure of it) when this hawker comes into my compartment S10. She is a lady, looks tribal, is obese and is carrying a home-made, dirty, cloth bag on her right shoulder and is trying to sell a white colour round object that she claims is the nabhi of the Kasturi Hiran (Musk Deer?). I have just woken up after my afternoon sleep in the Side Upper berth and am still sleepy. But the name of Kasturi Hiran is more than enough to jolt me back into the world of reality. I ask her to hand that over to me so that I could see it for myself.

The object is pale white, is very-very soft due to the fur that surrounds it and has a small dark spot on one side. And it does smell great.

Kahan se late ho ye sab? I ask the lady.

Jungle se chunte hain. Hiran ke pet se nabhi gir jaata hai. Wahi hum uthate hain aur bechate hain. She replies.

Hiran ko marate bhi ho iske liye?

Nahi. Jo gir jaata hai khud-ba-khud wahi uthate hain.

I remember hearing a number of childhood stories where Kasturi Hiran keeps running all over the Jungle in the search of the sweet smell that surrounds it, but is never able to find the source of it, which in fact lies not outside it, but inside. This is often compared to the search of man for God wherein he keeps looking all over the world, builds temples, mosques, churches, et all for the said purpose and wages bloody battles on those who follow religions different from his own, never realising the fact that God resides inside him and not outside.

But this is for the first time in my life that I am actually holding the body part of the said deer which is responsible for the restlessness of the beautiful creature.

The smell is so great that I am tempted to purchase one for myself. But I am not very sure of her claim that they just pick up those pieces that fall out naturally from its body and do not kill the animal in order to acquire it. Moreover, I am not sure whether the nabhi does fall naturally at all.

Thankfully, no one in my cubicle buys the stuff either.

But wait! The lady has other things to offer as well.

She fishes out a small plastic jar from her bag and offers nails of some animal to the public. She claims they are the nails of the lion cubs whom they catch in the jungle, take the nail out from the paw of the baby and then leave it alive. The object that she is offering for Rs. 500 a pair is a single small, very sharp nail covered by soft, brown fur and in order to actually touch the nail, you have to remove the fur that is surrounding it.

Suddenly all her claims about not killing the Kasturi Hiran to procure the nabhi seems dubious. After all, how can you simply catch a baby lion, take the nails out of its paws and leave it back in the jungle? What are the chances that the poor creature will survive the injury which is bound to get infected and cause greater harms to it especially at a time when its natural immunity is still not properly developed? And why only take the nails of the cub, when you can actually take the complete skin which will no doubt fetch you a far higher price in the black markets of the wild animal body parts? Why be so generous to the baby cub?

She persuades me to buy a pair which I refuse continuously. However, the man on the upper berth opposite to me seems interested and bargains on the price. I try to persuade him not to buy. I try to put across my point by saying that there are only around a thousand tigers left in India today and that we should not buy the body parts of wild animals and encourage their poaching. But he hears me not, goes ahead and buys a pair for just Rs. 50!

Ridiculous! What peanuts are we ready to kill non-human species for?

However, the whole incident did have a lesson for me. It showed how easy it is to write blogs and forward emails to your friends asking them not to buy stuff made of body parts of wild animals and how immensely difficult it is to persuade even a single man from actually buying it in the real world. Especially, when all that you have to pay for the prized possession is just Rs 50.

Going at this rate, how long will it be before we lose all our tigers and lions and other beautiful creatures for all times to come?

Who will cry when you die?

2010-05-09T19:52:00.006+05:30

(No, I have not read the book by the same title by Mr. Robin S. Sharma and hence this article is not a book review. But still I am using the title of his book. Does that amount to an act of plagiarism? If yes, I do not have any hesitation in giving the credit for such a nice title to you Mr. Sharma.)

Let me tell you a small fact. A fact with which most of us new age people will associate.

A simple compounder by education, my grandfather was not a very degree-d man (Education and degrees are two completely different things even though these days they are used almost interchangeably). However, back there in my village, where we still own a medicine shop, he was highly respected. He used to perform small operations at a very low cost and was available for service almost 24*7*365. Doing so, he must have saved the poor villagers quite a good amount of their time and money by saving them from running to Patna at every medical emergency, small or big.

The day he died, the whole of Mahnar Bazaar was shut down for a day and a huge crowd of around 1500 people had assembled at our home. He had lived a satisfied man and he died a satisfied man as well. And, with his death, he left a void in the society that the people who were left back in fact could actually feel.

I am sure many of you will find similar stories in your own families if you look back a generation or two. But take a look at our own generation, especially those of us who have migrated to big cities in the search of big career/money, who live lonely lives in cities bustling with millions (and hence, to fill the void in the real world, create virtual identities on platforms like Orkut, Facebook and Twitter or write blogs – sharing ideas while doing really nothing), earn quite decent enough money and live a life of luxury dining in Mac D-es or shopping-till-dropping in the hyper malls that keep opening somewhere or the other almost every day.

Let us ask ourselves a simple yet highly disturbing question. After all the education that we have got, exactly how many individuals are going to benefit from our lives or our careers? I think not many. And in most of the cases – even zero. Heck, we do not have time for our parents back home, how are we supposed to have time to do good to others? We are a generation for which success is defined simply in terms of our pay packages and nothing else.

Isn’t it weird that the more the society invests in educating an individual, the less useful he seems to become for the society itself? So, it turns out that a simple compounder of the yesteryears – or may be even today – is far more important to the society than the people who have gone to big institutions, have invested lakhs in their higher education and are earning big money for themselves. Whose fault is that? Education? Or society’s?

Coming back to the original point, since ours is a generation immersed completely into the race of blind money-making and self-gratification, isn’t it an apt question to ask – Who will cry when we die?

Family? Not sure. 30 years from now, many of us will be so cut off from our families back in our home towns, that it seems unlikely that our deaths will be bringing any real loss to them. Parents will already be long gone, and children will most probably have flown off to distant shores in search of even greater money making success.

Colleagues from our offices? Are you kidding me? Ours is a generation of job hoppers and continuous migration. By the time you become friends with your colleagues, either you have moved on or he has. Sure, a few will obviously hang on with you for life through phone or virtual platforms like Facebook, Twitter and Orkut, but can interacting on these platforms really compete with the face-to-face interactions that people in small places have over a home-made or road side hot cup of tea? Leave crying apart, colleagues will be so busy with their office work; they will probably not even have enough time to think about you. Even the place that you are working in will be filled up by some new guy even before your funeral pyre has lost its heat. The world has become a fast moving place not only in life, but in death as well, you see.

Why is that so? May be because we were so engrossed in making success out of our lives that we in fact forgot to allot some part of it to genuine everyday causes that would have connected the society better on an emotional level. What we did instead was that we shopped and shopped and shopped, we dined in great places (which often charge more for the ambience rather than the food itself), we purchased costly cars and other gadgets - and wrote blogs - and ultimately surrounded ourselves so much by these things that the real people from the real world were seldom able to peek in and say a genuine, warm hello to us.

And things to which we gave our time, cars, gadgets, shopping, dining, blogs, work, offices, money simply do not know how and why to cry. People know that, and people is what we forgot to really connect with on a more genuine and humane level.

This is a question that has been troubling me continuously for the last few months. I have completed by graduation from Pune and am employed in a well-paying job in Mumbai, am planning to pursue an MBA, but am not really interested in doing any higher education. Have been feeling terribly home-sick for the last some months which is kind of strange because I had been snatched away my right to stay at home when I was in class 4 itself and was sent to a hostel. Sometimes, I feel the urge to just let go of everything and go back to the place where my grandfather lived his whole life and start a school over there. But then, I am probably too educated to do that. Moreover, such an act of mine will be at a complete collision with the definition of success that the society has carved out for me.

In the race of making a career, I never properly stayed with my Maa or Papa and in the race of making a career there will be very few people, if any, who will cry when I die. I find that frightening.

No doubt, in spite of having comfortable SleepWell mattresses in my home, I seldom get a sound sleep.

Any comments?

Here, Life and Death go hand in hand.

2010-05-05T18:21:00.000+05:30

A place very near to my flat in Mumbai.

One stop shop - We sell both slow death and solutions for life after death.

अर्थ-आवर मनायें तो, पर ..

2010-05-01T18:24:00.006+05:30

गत २७ मार्च को विश्व भर में अर्थ-आवर मनाया गया. WWF की अगुआई में सम्पन्न हुए इस कार्यक्रम का मुख्य उद्देश्य था तेज़ी से बढ़ती ग्लोबल वार्मिंग से परेशान मानवजाति के प्रति संवेदना व्यक्त करना और इस विकट परिस्थिति की तरफ लोगों का ध्यान आकर्षित करना. कार्यक्रम काफी हद तक सफल रहा. अगर WWF के वेब-पेज पर एक नज़र डालें तो पता चलता है कि विश्व भर के १२६ देशों ने अर्थ-आवर २०१० में बढ़चढ़ कर हिस्सा लिया. भारतीय समयानुसार शाम के साढ़े आठ बजे से लेकर साढ़े नौ बजे तक विश्व भर की कई सुप्रसिद्ध इमारतों ने अपनी-अपनी बत्तियां गुल कर दीं. २००७ में ऑस्ट्रेलिया से प्रारंभ होकर यह ऐसा चौथा लगातार वर्ष था, जब मानवजाति ने अप्राकृतिक कारणों के नतीजतन तेजी से बढ़ते तापमान से परेशान मानवता के प्रति सहानुभूति प्रदर्शित की.

अजीब है; नहीं? मानव निर्मित इस विपदा से परेशान है कौन? मानव. और सहानुभूति प्रदर्शित कर रहा है कौन? स्वयं मानव.

अर्थ-आवर कितना सफल था और कितना नहीं यह एक बहस का मुद्दा है. अगर कुछ अन्य आकड़ों पर ध्यान दें तो ज्ञात हो कि इस पूरे १ घंटे के दौरान जितनी बिजली की बचत हुई, उतनी बिजली चीन अकेले मात्र दो मिनटों की अल्पावधि में खर्च डालता है, और भारत इससे कुछ अधिक मिनटों में.

अगर ईमानदारी से हम अपने-अपने गिरेह्बानों में झाकें तो पायेंगे कि अर्थ-आवर जैसे वैश्विक स्तर के कार्यक्रमों की सफलता इस बात पर तो निर्भर करती ही है कि उसे कितने राष्ट्रों का सहयोग मिला, पर उससे भी कहीं अधिक इसपर निर्भर करती है कि उसमें कितने लोगों ने अपने-अपने निजी स्तरों पे भाग लिया. तो आईये, जरा पूछें अपने-आप से कि हमने इस कार्यक्रम में कितना योगदान किया और कितना नहीं.

जिस घंटे अर्थ-आवर मनाया जा रहा था, उस वक़्त मेरे घर की बत्तियां बुझी हुई थीं और पंखा बंद था. AC मैं इस्तेमाल करता नहीं, तो उसका सवाल ही नहीं उठता. हाँ, फ्रिज शायद चालु ही छुट गया होगा. पर यह सब ऐसा अर्थ-आवर के उपलक्ष्य में नहीं था, अपितु इसलिए था कि मैं उस वक़्त अपने घर के बाहर किसी निजी कार्य से निकला हुआ था. यदि घर पे होता तो शायद अर्थ-आवर में योगदान करने के बजाय टेलीविजन पर उससे सम्बंधित ताज़ातरीन खबरें देख रहा होता.

ये तो थी मेरी दास्ताँ. पर क्या आपने अर्थ-आवर में भाग लिया? शायद नहीं लिया होगा. अगर लिया होगा तो अति-उत्तम; यदि ना लिया हो तो भी कोई बहुत बड़ा नुकसान हुआ हो, ऐसी बात नहीं है. मगर हाँ, यदि आप अपनी रोजमर्रा की ज़िन्दगी में एहतियात नहीं बरतते हैं, तो यह अवश्य एक गहन चिंता का विषय है.

ऐसा आखिरकार क्यों है कि हम अर्थ-आवर और ग्लोबल-वार्मिंग की बातें तो बढ़चढ़ कर करते हैं, अखबारों और अन्य पत्रिकाओं में लेख भी जमकर लिखते हैं, मगर जब दिन-प्रतिदिन के आचरण की बात आती है, तो खुद को अत्यंत ही ढीला-ढाला पाते हैं?

फ़र्ज़ कीजिये कि आप घर से बाहर कुछ खरीददारी करने निकलते हैं. ऐसा कितनी बार हुआ है कि आपने अपना कपड़े का झोला साथ में लिया हो? नहीं लेते हैं. हममें से शायद मुट्ठी भर लोग हीं इस नियम का पालन करते होंगे. या फिर यह कि अगर एक कमरे में बैठें हों तो यह सुनिश्चित कर लें कि अन्य कमरों में विद्युत् से चलने वाला कोई यन्त्र अन्यथा ही ना चल रहा हो?

मुंबई में जिस दिन नो होंकिंग डे मनाया गया और इसकी अवहेलना करने वालों को फाइन की चपत लगाईं गयी, उस दिन पुरे शहर में बेवजह बजने वाले हार्नों की मात्रा में आश्चर्यजनक रूप से गिरावट दर्ज की गयी. मगर अगले दिन से वही ढ़ाक के तीन पात. किसी भी लाल-बत्ती पे खड़े हो जाइए, लोग ना तो - अगणित सरकारी, गैर सरकारी विज्ञापनों के बावजूद - अपनी गाड़ियों का इंजन ही बंद करते हैं, और ना ही बेवजह होर्न बजाने से ही बाज आते हैं. अरे भाई, अगर जगह मिलेगी तो आगे वाला आगे बढ़ेगा हीं. जहाँ का तहाँ खड़ा तो रहेगा नहीं. इतनी सी बात भी हमारी समझ में नहीं आती है शायद. या फिर यदि आती है, तो कहीं ऐसा तो नहीं कि हमारी संवेदनात्मक इन्द्रियाँ हीं निष्काम हो गयी हों?

ऐसे में हम अर्थ-आवर मनायें या ना मनायें, कोई फर्क नहीं पड़ता. जब संवेदनशीलता ही शिथिल या निष्काम हो, तो आखिर कोई संवेदना व्यक्त करे भी तो कैसे? मगर यदि ना करें तो उसमें भी नुकसान तो भाई हमारा, आपका या हमारी अजन्मी संततियों का ही है, किसी और का तो है नहीं.

चलिए, मान लिया कि भारत ने अभी-अभी चन्द्रमा पर पानी की उपस्थिति की खोज की है. और इस तथ्य पर विश्व के सर्वाधिक शक्तिशाली देश अमेरिका की अंतरिक्ष अन्वेषण संस्था नासा का ठप्पा भी लग गया है. अनुमान लगाया जा रहा है कि इस सुखद खोज से चाँद पर इंसानों को बसाने का सपना हकीकत के और करीब आ गया है. कहीं ऐसा तो नहीं कि आप निकट भविष्य में चाँद पर निकल भागने का सपना दिल में संजोये बैठे हैं, और इसीलिए धरती की तकलीफों के प्रति सर्वथा उदासीन हैं?

अगर ऐसा है, तो भई खुदा ही ख़ैर करे. मैं ये नहीं कहता कि भविष्य में इंसान चाँद पर डेरा जमाये नहीं बैठा होगा. अब तो विज्ञान ने इतनी तरक्की कर ली है कि कुछ भी असंभव प्रतीत नहीं होता. मगर गौर फ़रमाने वाली बात ये है कि यदि आदमी चाँद पर बस भी जाए, तो भी हम और आप वहाँ तक कभी पहुँच भी पायेंगे क्या? आपकी सोच इस विषय में क्या है, मुझे नहीं पता; पर जहां तक मेरा सवाल है, मुझे तो ऐसा कतई नहीं लगता. और लगे भी तो कैसे? भई साहब, हम और आप तो एक ऐसे तबके से आते हैं, जो पेट्रोल-डीजल या रेलगाड़ी के टिकट में ५० पैसे, १ या २ रुपये वाली की गई सर्वथा जायज वृद्धि को ही झेलने का गुर्दा नहीं रखते, और देखते-ना-देखते देश भर में चक्का जाम और हड़तालें कर डालते हैं. चाँद पर बसने के लिए अरबों रुपये की धनराशी लायें भी तो कहाँ से लायें?

तो भई, अगर हम थोड़ा सोचे-विचारें तो पता चले कि इस अनंत ब्रह्माण्ड में अगर हमारा कोई सामूहिक ठिकाना है तो वह हमारी पृथ्वी ही है. धरती है, तो हम हैं. धरती है, तो एक दिन चाँद पर घर बसाने का सपना है. धरती है, तो अनंत अंतरिक्ष के भीतर और इसकी सीमाओं के दूसरी ओर के रहस्यों का एक दिन पर्दाफाश करने का जज्बा है. धरती नहीं, तो कुछ भी नहीं. और भई, इस धरती को तो विश्व की अनेकानेक सभ्यताओं में माता की संज्ञा दी गयी है; माता जो हमें पालती है, पोसती है, जरूरत और ऐशो-आराम की हर वह चीज मुहैय्या कराती है जिसकी ज़िन्दगी को जरुरत होती है. और एक हम हैं, जो उस माता का शोषण करते बाज नहीं आते. क्या हमने अपनी सारी शर्मो-हया की वास्तव में तिलांजलि दे दी है?

तो निष्कर्ष यह है कि अर्थ-आवर या नो होंकिंग डे इत्यादि मनाने या ना मनाने में कोई बुराई नहीं है. गलत तो तब है जब हम अपनी रोज़मर्रा कि आदतों से लाचार हो अपनी छोटी-छोटी जिम्मेदारियों को ताक पर रख देते हैं और स्वांग ऐसा करते हैं जैसे हमें कुछ ज्ञात ही ना हो. कितना सुखद होगा वह दिन जब मानवता शायद सोते से जागेगी और वसुंधरा के प्रति एक भावपूर्ण रिश्ते की नींव रखेगी!

आखिरकार अर्थ-आवर मनाने का मुख्य उद्देश्य भी तो यही है.

धरती चाँद से - मनायें अर्थ-आवर. ज़िन्दगी भर.

कुत्ता / आदमी

2010-04-29T07:24:00.005+05:30

ज़ुबाँ क्या पा ली आदमी ने
खुद को
बावज़ूद अपनी तमाम खामियों के
इंसान का दर्ज़ा
दे डाला.

बे-ज़ुबाँ कुत्ता बेचारा
विरोध अपना दर्ज़ न करा पाया
औ'
बावज़ूद अपनी तमाम अच्छाइयों के
रह गया
एक अपशब्द-मात्र बनकर.

Show me my path, O Swami.

2010-04-18T11:07:00.009+05:30

At a time when there is no sun,
And life seems to be all rain;
I pray to you, O Swami,
Come -
Show me the right path once again.

Life has been confusing
For eight long years now;
I hope sincerely -
You will come;
And with your blessings
Me bestow.

Sometimes I feel like running away
From all my present and all my past.
Go into a Journey to the Unknown
And in spite of all the adversities -
Last.

Attract me immensely the Two,
Who went all the way to Tibet from Germany.
And witnessed the fall of the humble-most people,
In the onslaught of the Chinese tyranny.

No, try I as much as I may,
I am unable to recollect their name(s),
But didn't you say that for me,
(The inheritor of the longest surviving civilization on Earth),
The name doesn't matter,
Neither does fame?

On the Roof Top of the World,
For seven long years they stayed;
Saddened at the pains of the locals,
They cried with them,
When tears they shed.

I want to travel all the way to Dharamshala,
And meet His Holiness
The Great Dalai Lama.

Carries he still a smile so genuine,
Despite knowing that his motherland is
Going not to be free
By whatsoever mean(s).
I wonder what makes him
Keep himself so serene.

Then there was this man Rahul Sankrityayan,
Whom I have been reading of late.
Ran away from his home he did
In the search of real wisdom
And in the company of Sadhus,
Turned himself into a scholar great.

There have always been journeys to make
And there have been people who know
Exactly what they need to do.
Be he Gandhi, Hitler, Laden
Or be he You.

I am ready to walk my path,
Only the direction remains elusive,
Which I cannot see.
Surrender so I myself to you, O Swami,
Come and show me my path Thee.

Sair kar duniya ki gafil, Zindagaani phir kahaan.

2010-04-13T19:05:00.016+05:30

I do not remember the name of the One who ran away into the wild as much as for the sake of the love of Mother Nature and Ultimate Freedom as much as due to his troubled family background. Living as a destitute, he managed to survive for around 2 and half years in the wild, before he succumbed to death in the icy American state of Alaska. He had miscalculated the time when the river flowing outside the jungle will be full to its rim with water; and it was this miscalculation that proved to be his undoing. This is the story of the English movie “Into The Wild” that I saw a few months back.

Yes, there are people out there who choose to explore the Unknown over spending their whole life selling soaps or sitting in front of a computer. It is just that they are a bit invisible and you need to look keenly for them in order to discover them and their free spirit.

Even more interesting is the fact that you might not need to look far away to discover them. There may be people you are close to who have been on the Ultimate Journey of Life, have come back and have lived a successful life thereafter.

Last weekend, when Tudu came to my place, the conversation entered the topic of “How to live a life more free, a life in which you need not go to the office daily, and a life which is more exiting and full of adventure.” Both of us are already our marriageable age, and are quite perplexed whether we want to enter the institution of marriage or not. Marriage, after all, is a point of no return; isn’t it? And the decision to enter it must be a well thought out one.

It was during the course of this talk that he remembered that his father had run away to Burma by hiding himself in a Pani ka Jahaj in Kalkatta. He stayed there for quite some time before coming back to his familiar surroundings of Jharkhand. He has lived his life by working in the Trade Union of the Eastern Coal Mines and is planning to launch himself into local politics. He has even got an entry into the Kendriya Samiti of Jharkhand Mukti Morcha and, God willing, will grow from strength to strength over a period of time. A life full of life and of activity, I would say.

I had also heard sometime my father saying that Babu (his father) had run away into the Himalayas just after his marriage. Since, I was not very sure of the facts, I called up Chhote Dadaji. He agreed and told that it was basically due to the love of adventure, for the attraction of the unknown that he had done so. The whole family was worried for a whole one month before my Grandfather dropped a postcard to his father from Lucknow. He was away from home for around 5 or 6 months - going through places like Badrinath and Haridwar with the unknown people that he befriended during the course of journey. Since my father was born in 1954, this must have been sometime in 1952 or 1953.

Later, after coming back to Mahnar, my native place, he, being a compounder by education, started a medicine shop and served as the local doctor for the village, treating poor patients for very small token fee and giving them medicines. The day he was cremated, after his untimely and sudden death, the whole Mahnar Bazaar was closed. Around 1500 people from Mahnar and near-by villages had come to my home that day.

Are these lives not as successful as the one that we are trying to lead? Yes, they definitely are. Unlike the present generation, which spends its whole life first in school and then in office, the people of yesteryears probably did have a better sense of freedom and adventure. Where has that unbound spirit been lost? Why is it that the only fight that we are left with today is concerned with earning our daily bread and raising a family and nothing else?

Let me have a peek at my own life.

The only time I have run away till date was on the day of my class 12 Mathematics Board Examination. I had run away to the Shankar Talkies, the only Dolby theatre in the whole of Deoghar district at that time, to watch the newly released Haan Maine Bhi Pyar Kiya Hai. And I was not alone; we were a group of 4 or 5 boys. We had sneaked away into the open and under the darkness of the evening had walked all the way to the Shankar Talkies. One thing that Vidyapith was really low on was movies. We had to wait for months together for seeing a Hindi movie, and that too after a lot of censorship from the office of Shakti Maharaj.

Chhote Dadaji, while telling me about the run-away adventure of Dadaji, told that that was an era when people were influenced by Sri Rahul Sankrityayan, who had apparently given the slogan - ghar se bhago.

Dadaji also told a very beautiful shaayari, which is –

सैर कर दुनिया की गाफ़िल,
ज़िंदगानी फिर कहाँ?
औ' जिंदगानी है ग़र फिर तो
नौजवानी फिर कहाँ?

I find myself humming this sher very often these days.

May be one day I will muster enough courage to go on my own journey. May be that day will be sometime in the near future. Kyuki zindagi me kam se kam ek baar to bhaagna banta hai, mere dost.

The theory of divine frustration.

2010-04-05T12:29:00.010+05:30

I have not seen God. But there are people who claim they have.

Many of those who claim so go a step further. They claim not only to have seen Him (or Her), but claim to have done all sorts of activities with Him like walking, talking, walking while talking, sleeping, having lunch, dinner, snacks et al.

Thankfully, there is none yet who has claimed to have had SEX with Him. Or if there is one, I beg pardon for my limited knowledge. Would having SEX with Him be qualified as unnatural? In case that has been the reason none has claimed to have gone to this extent, we might very soon come across someone innovative enough claiming that as well. Remember, Delhi High Court passed a judgment last year legalizing some aspects of Sec 377 of the Indian Penal Code? That decision is yet to be challenged in the highest court of the land.

The people who claim to have so interacted with God are known by various names – some call them Baba, some Father, some Priest, some Maulvies, some Pundits and so on – it all depends on what school of thought one subscribes to. I will call them Godmen, a term very secular and fairly well known.

These Godmen paint a very colorful, yet immensely hazy, picture of the God they claim to have seen. Some say that He has got a billion hands with a million heads (He has to take care of this whole Universe and beyond after all!!) while some say He is just a bright light, brighter than a million suns put together (Is that why those who claim to have seen Him get a bright aura painted at the back of their head?). The purpose of doing so may very well be to keep the queue of their devotees as long as ever. They seem to follow the corporate world funda very well - “Confuse if you can’t convince.” This serves them in right esteem. Some of them are known to have assets going into millions, far greater than even those of some corporate houses.

Religion and Spirituality should be given the legal status of industry. They are big time money churners. They were the first exports that our Motherland made to the outer world.

But, the end point is, I have not seen God. I am not even sure if He exists.

But there is one question that has bothered me always. What am I doing in this world? What is the purpose of my existence? And why only me? This is a question that has been bothering the whole human race since time immemorial. A lot of time has been spent in finding an answer to it. An immense number of books have been written on the subject. But the answer remains elusive as ever.

During the course of my search, I came across a theory. It is not anything great. But I did find it interesting. I do not know who the propounder of the theory is. In any case, in the matters purely of God, it probably does not matter either.

The theory calls itself “The Theory of Divine Frustration.”

It talks of a time beyond the comprehension of the human mind. At that time, there was no life, nor was there our beautiful earth. Not even the solar system as we know it. In fact, it talks about a time when there was no universe at all. The Big-Bang was yet to happen, or to be caused.

There was only one entity that existed then. An entity this theory calls the Frustrated Supreme Power. Where it lived and what it did to pass away its time are questions it does not give answers to.

What it does say however is that FSP was a very powerful creature. He had a lot of brains, but absolutely nothing to do. He was immensely bored with the vast spread of nothingness all around. He had no clue what He was doing there and what the purpose of His existence was. More or less the same questions that we all are searching answers to.

Being so frustrated, one fine morning (just for the heck of saying it – there was obviously no concept of time at that time) He wanted to really f*** someone hard. Not literally, but in the common parlance of using the word. So, He caused a huge explosion in the vast nothingness. This was the same explosion that billions of years down the line the humans were going to christen as the Big Bang.

However, that did not interest Him much. It was not too great a pleasure to see the huge particles emerge out of nothing and travel at immense speed in all the directions possible. Particles simply could not be f***ed. He wanted something that could be.

So, He created life.

But lo! He failed again! The life He created turned out to be a very satisfied one. It was simple and it seemed to enjoy its simplicity. Every morning it woke up with the rising sun and every evening when the sun went down the horizon, it went to its dwelling place for a great night sleep. As against His wishes, it turned out to be quite at peace with itself.

Something is lacking. He thought. Something the absence of which allows life to be so full of life. In spite of the big brain that He had, it took Him a full 7 days to realize His mistake.

Then He created the primitive humans; and gave them a bit of brain. The work done, He reclined back peacefully to enjoy the show. He was sure that He had succeeded this time. He even smiled at Himself.

He was right. It was not long before the early humans fell for the trick. One fine morning they decided that they will use whatever little brains they had; and so thinking they decided to come down the trees. Something suggested them that walking on two legs instead of all four will develop their mental faculty at a faster pace.

Ever since then, they are in the process of what they call development. Millions of years have passed since the morning they had decided to start walking on two legs. Till this day, the process of development continues. The life has gone completely out of control, the level of dissatisfaction has increased and there are lesser and lesser resources left with each passing day. These days, instead of walking in the sun and breathing in the open air, they spend their whole life sitting in cramped offices, mostly in front of a stupid looking, very well known electronic device. Even something as basic and as abundantly present as water is not freely and easily available.

As per The Theory of Divine Frustration, there will never be ample number of people who will realize that the ultimate and sole purpose of their existence in the world is to get f***ed by the FSP. If the number of people who see through the game overtakes the number of those who don’t, the very purpose of their existence will be over and the universe will go up in smoke. Interestingly, it further adds that those who understand the game will be more frustrated than those who don’t.

There indeed is a small school of thought, with a highly constricted following, that earnestly believes that the worst mistake their ancestors ever made was to start walking on two legs instead of all the four.

Those who subscribe to this school happen to be the most frustrated amongst all.

वापस क्यों नहीं आ जाती तुम?

2010-04-03T05:29:00.018+05:30

सामान सारे आज भी पड़े हैं
ठीक उसी जगह
जहाँ वो ढाई साल पहले पड़े थे.
बस उनके इस्तेमाल होने का
तरीका है बदल गया.

कम हो गए हैं बर्तन रसोई में;
और कुकर है कि
ना जाने कितने दिनों से एक कोने में
गुमसुम पड़ा है.

कोई अब नहीं जाता
सुबह सवेरे उठकर बाड़ी में
यह देखने को
कि कितने निम्बू हैं पके हुए
निम्बू के पेड़ में.
या फिर कि वह छोटा पौधा पपीते का
जिसे देखा था कल
एकदम नया-नन्हा सा
वो आज भी ज़िंदा है क्या?

सूख गयी है तुलसी भी तुम्हारी अब तो
तुम्हारी याद में.

क्या तुम्हें अंदाज़ है जरा भी
कि तुम्हारे जाने से
लावारिस हो गया है एक पूरा संसार?

माँ -
क्या तुम्हें नहीं लगता कि
तुम्हारा इस कदर
गैर वक़्त चले जाना
नाजायज़ था?

वापस -
क्यों नहीं आ जाती तुम?

कबूतर, मुंबई और मैं.

2010-03-29T08:12:00.006+05:30

क्या आपने कभी कबूतर के पंजों से जख्म खाया है? क्या अजीब सा सवाल है? - आप शायद पूछ रहे हों. जख्म? और वो भी कबूतर के पंजों से? ये कैसे हो सकता है भाई? कहाँ एक तरफ दुनिया का शायद सर्वाधिक शांतिप्रिय प्राणी और कहाँ दूसरी तरफ आदमी, जिसने ना सिर्फ अपनी ज़िन्दगी में ही अफरा-तफरी मचा रक्खी है, बल्कि मानो पूरी सृष्टि का ही संतुलन बिगाड़ने का जैसा बीड़ा उठा रक्खा है.

मैंने खाया है कबूतर के पंजों से जख्म. और मेरी बाईं हथेली पर लगा घाव अभी भी ताज़ा है. गलती मेरी ही थी. कबूतर तो शायद फिर भी बच के निकल मात्र जाना चाहता था.

मेरे घर के सामने वाली सड़क के दूसरी तरफ एक छोटा सा मैदान है. मैदान क्या है, यों मान लीजिये कि जैसे एक छोटी सी ज़मीन है; खाली और समतल. धुल और मिट्टी से भरी हुई. मायानगरी मुंबई में सर छुपाने को एक छत मिल जाए वही काफी है, खाली और हरे-भरे मैदान के बारे में तो शायद कोई दूर दूर तक नहीं सोचता.

कुछ दिनों पहले मैंने सुकेतु मेहता की किताब मैक्सिमम सिटी पढ़ी थी. मुंबई की इस बायोग्राफी टाइप की किताब में मुंबई का परिचय काफी डरा देने वाले तथ्यों के साथ लेखक ने दिया है. उनके मुताबिक मुंबई में पुरे ऑस्ट्रेलिया महाद्वीप से अधिक लोग रहते हैं. मैंने इस बात की कभी पुष्टि नहीं की. कोई ज़रुरत ही नहीं समझी. वर्ग आठ की भूगोल की पुस्तक में लिखा था कि भारत हर वर्ष खुद में एक ऑस्ट्रेलिया जोड़ता है. मुंबई वाला तथ्य गलत हो इसकी संभावना काफी कम है.

लोगों से इस प्रकार लबालब भरे इस शहर में यदि एक-दूसरे के लिए वक़्त ना हो, तो इसमें आश्चर्य करने वाली कोई बात नहीं होनी चाहिए. यहाँ आदमी एक बार सवेरे जो भागना चालू होता है, तो सीधा देर रात को ही जाकर चैन की दो सांस ले पाता है. अगले दिन से फिर वही कल वाली ज़िन्दगी चालू. कई लोग तो यहाँ अपनी एक चौथाई ज़िन्दगी लोकल ट्रेन में सफ़र करते हुए ही काट देते हैं.

खैर! ये तो मुंबई की समस्या है. मैं तो अपने घर के सामने वाले मैदान की बात कर रहा था. मैदान छोटा सा है - धुल-मिट्टी और छोटे कंकरों से भरा हुआ. हरियाली नहीं के बराबर है. कुछ इक्का-दुक्का पेड़ अवश्य खड़े हैं इधर-उधर गुमसुम से - मानो डरे हुए हों की ना जाने कब किसी बिल्डर की नज़र इस मैदान पर भी पर जाए और कब ना जाने उनपर भी ठीक उसी तरह आरियाँ चला दी जाएँ जैसे कुछ महिनों पहले बगल वाली ज़मीन पर खड़े पेड़ों पर चलायी गयी थी.

अगल बगल अच्छी खासी अट्टालिकाओं से घिरा यह मैदान लगभग दस-बारह टीन के झोपड़ों से भरा पड़ा है. गरीबों की एक अत्यंत ही छोटी सी बस्ती है - डेली वेजर्स हैं शायद. हर दिन सवेरे काम की तलाश में निकलते हैं और देर रात वापस लौटते है. ना पानी की सप्लाई है उनके घरों में और ना ही बिजली का कोई पुख्ता इंतजाम. हाँ, एक रोड रोलर अवश्य काफी दिनों से खड़ा है उनके झोपड़ों के सामने, मैदान में एक किनारे की ओर.

कबूतर वाली घटना इसी मैदान की है.

मुंबई की एक खासियत है. लोगों के पास एक दुसरे के लिए वक़्त हो ना हो, मगर कुछ लोग हैं यहाँ जो हर सुबह और शाम को इन नादान पंछियों के लिए वक़्त अवश्य निकाल लेते हैं. ऐसा नहीं है कि ये लोग किसी एक संप्रदाय या फिर किसी एक प्रोफेशन से जुड़े हों. जहाँ एक तरफ वह एक छोटा मोटा दूकानदार है, झुग्गी में रहने वाला इंसान है, वहीँ दूसरी तरफ कुछ ऐसे भी हैं जो अपनी पोशाक और चाल-चलन से किसी अंतर-रास्ट्रीय कम्पनी में काम करने वाले वेल पेड प्रोफेशनल जान पड़ते हैं. हर रोज़ नियमित तौर से ये लोग बोरियां भर-भर अनाज इन पंछियों को डालते हैं. निरंतर कम होती प्रकृति से जुड़े रहने का मुंबई का यह शायद अपना तरीका है.

कबूतरों को दाना डालने के लिए दादर और खार रेलवे स्टेशनों के बाहर तो जैसे एक अलग इन्फ्रास्ट्रक्चर ही तैयार कर दिया गया है. एक छोटी सी जमीन को पक्की दीवारों से घेरकर मानो उसे इन पंछियों के ही नाम कर दिया गया हो. जिस मैदान की मैं बात कर रहा हूँ, वहां ऐसा कुछ भी नहीं है. कोई इन्फ्रास्ट्रक्चर, कोई ज़मीन कबूतरों के नाम नहीं की गयी हैं.

शामें तो अब अधिकतर ऑफिस के वातानूकूलित वातावरण में ही कटती हैं, मगर सुबह सवेरे मैंने अक्सर दो-तीन अत्यंत सामान्य से लोगों को इन पंछियों को उनका रोज का राशन देते हुए देखा है. एक बुजुर्ग से सज्जन भी आते हैं बराबर जींस और टी-शर्ट में. वो तो ना सिर्फ कबूतरों के लिए दाना लाते हैं, बल्कि सड़क के आवारा कुत्तों के लिए बिस्किट भी.

मैं कुछ लेकर तो नहीं जाता, मगर जब भी सवेरे नींद खुलती है, एक बार इस जगह जरुर चला जाता हूँ. काफी अच्छा दृश्य होता है यहाँ पर. करीब सौ दो सौ कबूतर, चार पांच लोग, दर्जन भर कौव्वे और दो-तीन आवारा कुत्ते - सारे मानो एक सामंजस्य में एक-दूसरे के साथ वहां इकठ्ठा होते हैं. दाना डालने वाले लोग जहाँ दाना डाल रहे होते हैं, कबूतर उन्हें काफी समीप से घेरे रहते हैं - इतने समीप से की अगर फुर्ती के साथ एक झपट्टा मारा जाए तो एक ना एक पंछी तो हाथ में अवश्य आ जाए. कुत्ते भी आराम से कबूतरों के इस झुण्ड में घुमते हैं, मगर कभी उन्हें भी उनपर हमला करते हुए नहीं देखा.

सुबह-सुबह वहां जाना अच्छा लगता है. पंछियों को इतने पास से देखना और उनके बीचों-बीच चहलकदमी करना कहीं और संभव है या नहीं कहना मुश्किल है. आश्चर्य की बात है कि इतनी अधिक संख्या में होते हुए भी और भोजन की लिमिटेड सप्लाई के बावजूद इन पंछियों में एक अजीब सी ख़ामोशी व्याप्त रहती है - मानो वो जो भी मिल जा रहा है उसी में संतुष्ट हों. आपस में ना तो कोई कम्पीटीशन की भावना और ना कहीं जाने की कोई जल्दी.

हाँ. जब उनके बीच से गुजरता हूँ और वो कभी भाग कर तो कभी उड़ कर रास्ता देते हैं, तो उनके पंखों की फरफराहट की आवाज़ अवश्य तेज़ होती है; और तेज़ होती है उन पंखों से निकलकर शरीर को छू जाने वाली ठंढी प्राकृतिक हवा भी.

Sharing of resources can be real fun.

2010-03-27T06:00:00.009+05:30

Clicked these photographs a few days back early in the morning at Powai Lake. These two standard 3 kids - one is Govind, the name of the other one I forgot - were sharing a swing in the small park at the side of the lake. And they were laughing their hearts out. They seemed to convey the message - Sharing of resources can be real fun.

Sad, nobody around seemed to understand.

Sadder still, by the time they grow up and are already fed the idea of "good living standards" a million times over, they would themselves have forgotten the simple message they delivered to the world unknowingly that morning.

The question to be asked is - Can't we start putting concern for the planet at a higher pedestal than our immediate comfort? Is it really too hard to go, for example, car-pooling? Is it really too hard to start sharing the resources that we have?

I remember ours was one of the first homes in my paternal place Mahnar to have purchased a television set. Those were the days of Ramanand Sagar's Ramayan and a whole lot of village folks gathered every Sunday in our home to watch the magic of Lord Ram unfold on the small screen. With so many people watching, there used to be chaos all around. But still, it was great to watch Ramayan that way.

Years have passed.

Today I watch movies on my personal laptop; mostly alone. The level of comfort has certainly gone up. But somehow, watching movies alone does not give the same happiness as watching Ramayan with 30 odd people on that small television set gave.

Santa must be a lonely guy.

2010-03-23T19:44:00.012+05:30

Winters are long gone and this is not Christmas season. Going by the human standards, this is probably not the right time to remember Santa either. Even then, I would like to remember him now, at a time of the year when everybody seems to have forgotten the big, friendly old man.

Santa, in all probability, is a fictitious character and although I have never read Bible, I am pretty sure he does not find a mention in the Holy Book. He must have developed over a long period of time, mostly by the way of bed-time stories that grandmothers so fondly tell their grandchildren.

Why do I remember him now? I do so because of a guy in my office.

This guy has a weird habit which most of the people fail to understand. Almost everyday, whenever he goes out of the office for a tea break, he brings gifts for his colleagues. Nothing great, but gifts as simple as say 1 Re chewing-gums or 50 paisa Coffee Bites for the people who happen to be working in his team at that point of time.

People in the office have nick-named him Santa.

He is a small town guy and does not seem to be very much at ease in the office. He is not satisfied with the job that he is doing and very often feels like running back to the small place from where he has come.

I feel out of place in this office; full of people with plastic smiles and cosmetic faces. People who keep talking about the Rs. 15 lakh car that they plan to buy and the costly Hugo Boss perfume that they love to wear. He told one day over a cup of roadside tea that we were having. The guy used to talk little and today he seemed to be in a mood to do so.

Why do you distribute small errands? That is a habit way out of place for an office like this. I asked, sensing an opportunity that he might tell the reason behind his weird habit.

I have spent almost all my life in a hostel, where we used to share a lot of our resources. The school had a small portable TV and all of us 400 guys used to watch the occasional movie together on that small television set. Sometimes, our hostel warden used to bring small items like samosas or Hajmola. The whole hostel used to stand in a queue and get its share. It was not what you got that mattered. Instead, it was the feeling of companionship. He finished his tea and added. - Present day world seems to have forgotten that sharing of resources can be real fun.

This is interesting. I thought. But probably not entirely right.

The guy is a fairly lonely one and people seem to remember him only when they feel an urge for their daily dose of chewing-gums or Coffee Bite.

Why does Santa, the real one, the one who comes at the time of Christmas, brings gifts with him?

People go to Church all the year round. The faithful remember Jesus almost all the 365 days and pray to Him for a lot many things. Why then do they remember Santa only once? And then forget him as if he was never there?

Is it because that the gifts that he brings are too small in front of the powers of the God? Is it because while Jesus is supposed to give life, all that Santa has to offer is 'insignificant' chocolates?

Isn't forgetting him as soon as Christmas gets over too materialistic and selfish on the part of the humans? Doesn't Santa understand the parochial nature of the mankind?

Something tells me he does. But still he comes – year after year after year. May be this is his way of beating his loneliness, at least once in a year. With nobody remembering him ever, he must be a lonely guy after all.

The Tiger I Touched and Their Present Day Status.

2010-03-07T01:30:00.030+05:30

It has been 13 long years to this incident and to this day I regret not having even a single photograph of it. My father never invested in a camera. He is probably not interested in one, probably not even in the normal day to day use of the equipment.

The day I speak of is one of the most exiting days of my life. After all, it is not every day that one gets to touch a living, fully conscious, grown up tiger. And not many people in the world can claim to have done so, can they? Yes dear, you read it right. I have had the good fortune of getting as close as one can possibly get to one of these magestic animals. And so has been the case with my brother. We did that together.

If I remember it correctly, it was 7th of June, 1997. Just one day back we had come to Patna from Muzaffarpur to board the (very) early morning Danapur-Tata Express, the train we usually took to go to Vidyapith at the end of our one and a half month long vacation. Although she seldom did so, this time Maa had also decided to come along. We were staying put at the place of Munni Bua, and had a full day to kill and not really many places in the town to pay a visit to.

It was at the morning breakfast table that bua suddenly suggested that we must go to the Sanjay Gandhi Jaivik Udyan, the Patna zoo. A few days back, Boski Didi's school had taken her whole batch out for a picnic there. And she had come back with this information regarding a grown up tiger there which could be touched, obviously in the presence of Ram Pyare, the guy who was responsible for taking care of the animal.

So, as soon as our breakfast got over, the four of us - Maa, Papa, myself and my brother - left for the zoo. Bua had decided to stay back as she had some more mundane things to take care of.

Now, as is the case with most of the cities of our generation, Patna zoo happens to be an oasis in an otherwise desert. Full of greenery and an island of tranquility, this is sadly the last and the most open space left in an otherwise over-crowded, tightly packed city.

Once we were in, finding the place of the tiger was not a difficult thing to do. Ram Pyare and his tiger were obviously the hottest news those days on the zoo campus. I remember Googling Ram Pyare out a couple of years down the line when I was in my college, and I was delighted to find an article regarding him in India Today. Sadly, I am not able to find that link now. However, one page concerning him still happens to be on the net and interested readers may go to it by clicking here.

Although I am not an expert in this matter, with its orange skin and black stripes, I am pretty sure the tiger that I am talking about was a Royal Bengal tiger. It was 'kept' in front of the white tiger cage. On its left was another big enclosure with 3-4 similar looking Royal Bengals in it.

The time we reached the place Ram Pyare was not there. Yet, to our utter surprise, the only thing separating the completely unchained tiger (or was it a tigress?) from the visiters to the zoo was an iron fence not more than 2 feet high. If it had so wished, our tiger could have easily jumped the fence and gone for a long, solitary walk anywhere in the zoo, putting the whole system in disarray. Instead, completely oblivious of the onlookers and its eyes tightly shut, all it chose to do was to lie down lazily in the bright early noon sunlight. Oh! What a breathtakingly beautiful sight it was! I have never been to any Wildlife Park in my life and this remains the most free tiger I have ever come across.

After around half an hour, Ram Pyare came along to pay a visit to his tiger. Short, dark skinned and shabbily dressed, he was just like any other person one can ever come across. I and my brother were exited. The ultimate purpose of our visit to the zoo was to touch the tiger, not just to have a look at it and go back home. That we will get a number of chances to do. This was a life time opportunity. We urged our father to talk to Ram Pyare and get us an opportunity to do that. Luckily he obliged. Maa was shit scared, but by the time she could start protesting, Papa had already started talking to Ram Pyare.

The time we were waiting for since morning had arrived.

Once Ram Pyare was inside the fence, he called us to join him. The instruction given to us was simple. We will get a very brief duration to touch the hind legs and the back of the animal and then we will get out fast. While we did so, Ram Pyare was stroking the tiger on its face, sitting comfortably on its side. So, we touched the dream animal on its hind legs. And, my good gracious god, what a soft skin it had! Isn't it surprising for an animal so feared of to have a skin so soft?

While the memory of that day will always be alive with me, sadly it is the tigers themselves who are facing extinction. So much so that in order to publicise the plight of the jungle cat (and obviously to serve its own corporate needs), a mobile company - Aircel - has come up with an advertisement in collaboration with the World Wildlife Fund. I have a television set at home, but I have decided not to have cable connection as I find it to be less entertaining and more irritating. As a result, I have not seen the concerned advertisement till now. I am sure it must be a great ad. But isn't it sad that we the humans have brought the world to such a stage that we need to come out with advertisements in order to help equally important lifeforms survive?

India has already lost all of her Cheetah-s and I am afraid the day is not far when, in spite of all these cosmetic efforts, the country will lose all of its Panthera Tigris population as well. From around 40,000 at the turn of the 20th century to 3,642 in 2002 and 1,411 in 2008; their numbers have come down really fast. It will be a dark day indeed, if it ever comes, when my children will ask me to show a tiger to them and the closest thing that I would be able to do would be to tell them this story of my personal, friendly encounter with one of them.

Panthera Tigris: Going! Going!! .. Thankfully NOT YET Gone Away.

A Tale of Two Ghost Ladies/Alka is back, is she?

2010-02-23T19:36:00.014+05:30

Part A - Ghost Lady Number 1

She told her name was Shalini. She did not tell her surname. What she did tell however was that she had a younger sister and that she was named Malini (interesting name ... hmmm?); and that they shared a common e-mail id shalini_malini@yahoo.co.in. After all, she lived in Bangalore, the global capital of Information Technology, she claimed.

However, the letter that she posted for Khastagir was not via internet, but through the age old Indian Post. This was 2001 and we were still in Vidyapith. Most of us still had not opened our first e-mail account and had no access whatsoever to the wonderful world of internet. As against Bangalore, we were in the small holy town of Lord Shiva – Deoghar – that not many Indians will be able to pin point on the vast map of India.

The letter she posted was in a simple white envelope with the stamps of required value duly pasted on it. Khasta's name was written on the top of the envelope in a beautiful English handwriting. The moment Khasta opened the envelope; the news broke out in the hostel faster than a forest fire.

He had got a love letter. All the way from Bangalore. Travelling through a major part of India.

As if in a fairy tale, Shalini had come across a photograph of Khasta in the house of one of the ex-students of Vidyapith in Bangalore. Even more interesting was the fact that it was a simple batch photograph in which Khasta was just one of the many standing in one of the queues. He must have had been damn smart and good looking even in those days. How dumb the whole batch had been not to have discovered the hidden star amongst it. After all, there must be something in you if you are attracting a girl all the way from Bangalore.

This was the first love letter that anyone from the whole batch had ever received. Khasta had become an instant hero. There were celebrations all around. And there were a few who had fallen into depression thinking - Yaar .. saala Khasta abhi se baaji mar raha hai. Mera kya hoga.

The letter was as good as one should expect it to be at that age. It was written neatly in Hindi by a girl residing in Bangalore to a Bengali guy based in Patna and studying in a boarding school in Jharkhand. Mr. Bhagat, if one of the purposes of your book Two States is to promote the national unity, then our Khasta had definitely beaten you in the game far before you had even arrived on the horizon.

But then, the fairy tale ended.

People were already investigating the letter, trying to find out whether it had genuinely arrived from Bangalore or was it a fake. Someone noticed that the stamp pasted on the envelope was lacking in the thappa of the Postal Department that any stamp really going through the Indian Postal System must carry on itself. A little more investigation, and someone suggested – Yaar ye handwriting kucch jaani pahchani si lag rahi hai.

Ultimately, it turned out to be a trick played by Aayush on Khastagir. Aayush had gone to the rooftop - The door to the roof top was still unlocked; Bob Cut had yet to arrive in the collective life of the collegeboys - and had meticulously written the letter there, far away from the prying eyes. Then he had tried his level best to make it look as original as possible. The trick had held its ground for at least 4-5 hours that day, which in itself was a big success.

The tables had been turned. Faces that had gone into depression were smiling again. Khasta, saale, there is still time for the competition to start. You just wait for us to reach out to the greater world outside. Khasta, on the other hand, was sad. He had just lost the hope of having his first girlfriend.

Shalini had turned out to be nothing more than a beautiful figment of imagination. She had turned out be a Ghost Lady who simply never existed.

Part B - Ghost Lady Number 2

I was in my first year of college when Priyanka came into my life for a highly brief duration of 20-25 minutes. I was surfing in the internet cafe in Hanuman Nagar, when she buzzed me on Yahoo Chat. This time the e-mail id used was priyanka_kanpur@yahoo.co.in. I have not visited Yahoo Chat for more than past two years, but I am sure this e-mail id must still be there in my friend list.

I am an UP-ite from Kanpur and am pursuing M.B.B.S. in Ramaiah - She introduced herself.

I replied something, more than happy at heart.

I have seen your photograph at .... - Came the reply from the other end of the internet, in case there is one. The story of my discovery by her followed.

Hey! Am I going through a deja vu? No, surely I am not. I pinched myself. Something is fishy here. Priyanka's story can’t be so similar to Khasta's. This is not a girl! I need to go on offensive. I must save myself from falling into the trap. I said to myself.

So, where are you these days and what are you doing? - Next question popped up in my chat window.

This is the right moment. Go! Hit!!

I work with the directors of the Naughty America series. Just yesterday we have returned to Las Vegas, where we have our studio, after shooting some great short movies in the ice cold locales of Alaska. - I typed the first thing that came to my mind.

And what Naughty America exactly is? - She explored further.

My dear sweet lady. You pretend as if you don’t already know what it is. I explained NA to her.

Whosoever was at the other end pretended as if he/she was pissed off and went offline; never ever to bother me again. The whole conversation must have lasted not more than 30 minutes. I have never again received any mail whatsoever from that e-mail id. And I have never tried to contact this so-called Priyanka.

A few days after this incident, I was talking on the phone with Victor Mayengbam. He asked me something about some girl in Bangalore. Although I have not been able to make him confess it, I doubt to this day that Priyanka in Bangalore was actually none other than Mayengbam himself.

So, this is the story of Ghost Lady Number 2, the first and the only one that I had ever come across. Till, I guess, the very recent past.

Then, I too got a love letter. My first one ever. From Alka.

Yes! She has written me a love letter. Any reader of this blog interested in reading the same is most welcome to go to the comments section of (My Dear) Alka.

Part C - Welcome, ‘Alka’

Dear ‘Alka’

(You must have noticed that three things have changed in my way of addressing you. Since you claimed my brackets make you conscious, I have removed them. Also, I am not using the word ‘My’ and am putting your name in hyphens. This, I hope, will be indication enough that I do not consider you to be the Alka whom my letter was originally addressed to.)

I hope you will not be taken aback by my discussing both you and your letter on this public platform. After all, what other means of communication do I have with you, if not this? Also, your being just a name in the vast virtual world of internet will surely provide you great respite.

The day I read your letter for the first time, I was not only taken aback, I was also confused for a moment. But then, thankfully, I remembered the above two Ghost Ladies, and I was more or less certain that this is again someone playing a prank.

It does not mean that I do not appreciate the effort you took in writing that beautiful letter. Contrary to it, I fell in instant love with the way you write.

You do seem to have a great flavour for written English, which I simply cannot see coming from a girl from Muzaffarpur. Sadly, my – or, as per your claim, our – home town lacks any good library whatsoever to speak of. Also, I have never come across even a single student there who takes enough pains to reach out to the beautiful world of English literature. The way you write must follow reading good literature over a good duration of time.

Also, you have claimed to have found me by CHANCE, while moving through this vast blogosphere. Now, you do not need to be a great student of Mathematics to know that although there is indeed a chance of such a finding, it is almost next to impossible. My name is a highly unique one, and a simple search on Google, I am sure, would have given you some lead at least to reach out to me. I am afraid I don’t understand what this ‘moving through this vast blogosphere’ means.

Having said this, I must thank you profusely for taking your time out in order to write such a beautiful letter to me. Thanks a bunch once again.

And, hey, don’t you worry dear, I don’t have any intention whatsoever of trying to find out either where my real Alka is or who you really are. So, take it easy, mate.

Abhishek.

P.S. –

1. Khastagir has grown into a brave man. He is in the Indian Army and is currently posted in Manipur. He happens to be the only guy from our batch who has shot dead a homo-sapien. It was in Kashmir, and the guy killed from his bullets was a terrorist. He is surely running ahead than the rest of us in this field at least. When he was posted in Kashmir, he fell in love with a rustic Kashmiri beauty. I hope he is still in touch with her.

2. Aayush graduated from IIT Kharagpur and is currently pursuing his MBA from IIM Kolkata. He will definitely carve out a great life for himself. My best wishes are with him.

3. Mayengbam was in Bangalore when I had my brief conversation with Priyanka. He did his MBA from ICFAI Kolkata and is working currently in the City of Joy itself. A highly jovial guy that he is, I am sure he will also do great in his life. My best wishes to him as well.

Mithilesh Maharaj in Mumbai/Muzaffarpur Hospital Project

2010-02-13T22:30:00.011+05:30

"Bihar ko aage le jaana hai ki nahi?" - Mithilesh Maharaj said from the back seat of the Fiat Mumbai taxi. He was telling me and Satyanshu about the Hospital Project of the Muzaffarpur Center of the Ramakrishna Mission. I was so engrossed in the matter being discussed that although I was sitting in the front, I had almost completely turned backwards, folding my legs on the seat.

"When was the last time I had heard such a statement regarding development of Bihar coming from an official of the Bihar Government?" - I wondered. Probably never. And here was a monk, owning almost nothing material, so passionately discussing his plans for the Muzaffarpur Center and how one day, three years down the line, this project will, by the grace of Thakur, be bringing a gamut of cheap yet quality medical services to the people of Muzaffarpur and its surrounding areas.

Mithilesh Maharaj was in Vidyapith during my time there. He was transferred from Deoghar to Patna before I passed out of Vidyapith in 2002. I had stayed with him for one year in Subodhananda Dham, of which he was the Dham Warden along with Kanak Da. Later he was transferred to the Muzaffarpur Ashrama, which has been running a small charitable dispensary there since 1926. He plans to turn this dispensary into a big three storey multi-facility partially charitable hospital. The project has already been given green signal from Belur Math and it was in order to raise the funds for this massive Rs. 8 crore project that he had come to the financial capital of India.

When Brajesh called me up last Saturday to tell me about his presence in Mumbai, I was in the office. It was instantly decided that the following day we will be going to the Khar Ashrama from where we will pick him up and show him a little bit of Mumbai. He had, after all, come to Mumbai for the first time in his life. Tudu and Satyanshu were also to join us.

"Main aajkal Muzaffarpur Ashrama mein hoon, aur aapko ye jankar aashcharya hoga ki main wahan ka Mahant (Secretary) bana diya gaya hoon."- Mithilesh Maharaj said and started laughing at the joke made at his own cost. The four of us joined him. It reminded me of the beautiful informal relationship we shared with our teachers in Vidyapith.

I don’t remember Mithilesh Maharaj taking many of our classes. He was more involved with the carpenter section of Vidyapith that looks after the numerous wooden material needs of the institute. However, I do remember the Sanskrit examination that we had taken in either class V or in class VI. If I remember it correctly, it was he who was our Sanskrit teacher at that time. That exam is probably the most unique examination I have ever taken in my life. There was no question paper at all and the instruction given was simple: “Write what ever you remember. And then just sprinkle the ink on the paper from your pen.” The sprinkles were supposed act as the bindus and halants and give a touch of Sanskrit to the matter written in the Devanagari Lipi. It goes without saying, no one failed in that examination.

Vidyapith really had some innovative ways of teaching and made an otherwise boring education a bit of more fun. Visits to the Aam Bagan and Gaushala under the supervision of Lal Da to get a practical feel of the biology at work in nature and screening of the movie Battle of Britain by Vishwaroop Maharaj during the course of teaching 2^nd world war in History are just some of the examples.

We went to Nariman Point and Colaba and had lunch at a Chinese Restaurant in Worli owned and managed by the descendants of the Chinese population that settled down in India during the British rule. We had discussions on a number of topics ranging from religion, Vedanta, Upanishads and Swami Vivekananda to the current state of affairs in Vidyapith. Later we went to Brajesh's place for some time where we had a small bhajan session comprising of the bhajans that we used to sing in the morning prayer in Vidyapith. Sadly, we realised that we have forgotten a majority of them and needed active support of Maharaj in recollecting them. Brajesh was so enthusiastic about the session that he had in fact purchased a Mrindang from a road side vendor at the Gateway of India for Rs 500.

In the evening I and Tudu went to drop Maharaj at the Khar Ashram, where he asked us to wait and attend the Evening Aarti. Two of our seniors, one each from 1989 and 1991 batches, were coming to meet him after the Aarti. We were sitting in the small Ashrama dining hall when the seniors joined us. Over the simple snacks of biscuits and tea, we discussed the various possible ways of raising funds for the Hospital Project. The two seniors have a good experience in the corporate sector and they gave inputs and shared contacts as to from where we could start. It was decided that first of all the information about the project must be spread in the Vidyapith fraternity all over India and abroad.

It was a different feeling altogether being a part of a discussion of such a massive project. After all, it is not very far back in time that we were just simple little kids in Vidyapith. Also, it reminded me of the numerous discussions that I and Brajesh have had as to why does Vidyapith takes children from the better-doing sections of the society and not from the lower strata that needs its services more than us. After all, don't most of us just comfortably slip into normal routine life once we are out of Vidyapith? How many people are out there in the world who will ultimately gain from our life? Isn't investing so much time and effort in raising us actually a wasteful expenditure on the part of Vidyapith? We often use to ponder.

The ongoing discussions that evening in the Ashrama were important for me as they also gave me the answers to these questions.

My batch was the first +2 batch of Vidyapith. I remember, when the idea of starting +2 was mooted by Secretary Maharaj, the school had zero infrastructure to support it. But then, not only was the required capital of Rs. 1 crore raised in a small place like Deoghar, but the complete infrastructure was ready within a record time of 1 year. A huge part of that 1 crore must have had come from the ex-students of Vidyapith. That evening I realised that somehow today I am attached not only to Vidyapith but to the whole Ramakrishna Family in a manner more intimate than I had ever thought of. And somehow, even though I may not personally be able to benefit even a single person in my life directly, Thakur, just by giving me an opportunity to be a part of Vidyapith, has given me a reliable and sure-shot way of contributing back to the development of India in particular and the whole human race in general.

Last Sunday was one of the best Sundays I have spent till now in Mumbai. Not only was I blessed enough to be a part of such a serious and mass-impacting discussion, it was the closest that I could have come to Vidyapith while staying in Mumbai. I just hope that someone or the other keeps turning up from Vidyapith in my city of stay. Such meetings not only keep reminding us of the higher purposes of life, but also inject some sanity in an otherwise mad rush to make as much big bucks as one can.

Satyanshu, Myself, Mithilesh Maharaj and Tudu in front of Gateway of India. Brajesh is the one who clicked this photo. Satyanshu came with us in-spite of having a fracture in his leg.

P.S.:

1. The incidents described here took place on 7th of February, 2010, Sunday.

2. All the donations made to Ramakrishna Mission Sevashrama, Muzaffarpur and Ramakrishna Mission Vidyapith, Deoghar are exempted from tax under Section 80-G. To have more information on the Hospital Project, please keep visiting the Ashrama website. The complete information is expected to be uploaded soon.

The Morning Ride to Colaba.

2010-02-08T22:49:00.017+05:30

“Why don’t we go for an early morning ride to Colaba?,” Santosh came up with the brilliant idea. It was 4:20 in the morning. He was over with his drinks, and I, in spite of putting in a lot of efforts, was neither able to write down any of my thoughts nor was able to get any sleep.

I had been awake since 2 a.m. It was a Monday morning and I had to go to the office.

“Man, I need to get some rest at least, if not a proper sleep. Have to go to the office,” I brushed aside the suggestion.

“Office? How can anyone not go for such a beautiful early morning ride to Colaba, and choose instead to go to the office? And, in any case, you leave for the office only by 9:30 a.m. Right? Don’t worry, we will be comfortably back by that time,” he retorted, looking at me in such a manner as if I had just committed an inpardonable sin.

I still looked uncertain. So he added, “And obviously, me being drunk, it is you who is going to ride all the way.” He had come up with the trump card. My good friend is obviously aware of the intoxication that I am going through these days in the matters related to bikes. “And I can show you a little bit of fast and efficient gear changes as well,” he added further.

Needless to say, it was such a nice proposal that going to office fast became a distant second thing in my mind. I am still left with one sick leave for this financial year, and suddenly it occurred to me that I could always use the same in case I did not feel like going to office after coming back from the ride.

So, we got ready. Fast. By 4:50, the Honda Unicorn had already been brought to life.

It was Santosh, who rode at first. When we were at the Western Express Highway, he showed me how fast the gears can be changed and how they can be put to other uses like slowing down the bike and providing it with additional power as and when required. It was against the back-drop of brightly illuminated dome of Hotel Sahara Star that I took up the front seat.

And then it was a smooth ride. The bike is in an urgent need of servicing and makes a lot of protesting noises in the city traffic where it must be kept in the lower gears. But soon, we were in the fifth gear, and it was moving smoother than a hot knife can move through butter.

Except for a few trucks and four wheelers, there was little traffic on the road. However, whatever little vehicles were there, they were all in good enough speed. The weather was cool and we could feel the early morning chill. The helmet that we use has long lost its plastic face cover and hence I could feel the air directly in my face.

Soon, we were cruising at a speed of around 78 kms/hour, my highest till now. And although I could not maintain it for long enough duration, it was still an exhilarating experience.

We would have reached Marine Drive in less than next 20-25 minutes, in case we had decided not to stop to have a chai and sutta break at one of those night-time mobile bicycle-shops that are so common in Mumbai; and in case we were not stopped at the early morning police naka, at a place somewhere near the Ray-Road railway station.

We had almost crossed the naka safely, when the hawaldar gave us the signal to stop. He asked me to show my driving license and the papers of the bike. When handed over, he looked at the license and asked, “Patna ka hai?”

Yes dude, agar Patna likha hua hai to Patna ka hi hoga na? “Saala. Ab to fatka lagne hi wala hai,” I said to myself.

When he had gone through the license and the registration papers of the bike and found them to be satisfactorily in order, he asked for the insurance. Paisa agar lena hai to le hi lega, bahana chahe jo bhi ho.

Forget insurance papers, Santosh has been riding the bike all over Mumbai for the past half year without a driving license. There was absolutely no chance that we could have carried that extra burden with us. Ultimately, it was only after he made us pump up Rs. 200 into the already over-sized Indian black economy that he let us go.

Soon we were at the ultimate end of the Marine Drive, the Land's End. We had reached the place fast. It was still dusky and the sun was yet to smile upon Mumbai.

The Marine Drive. Sorry, the early morning Weapons of Mass Destruction were still to arrive. We were probably too early :-(

Santosh had Keema Pao at the Al-Rehmani Restaurant in Byculla (Close to Sewa Niketan). Even though he came here after a gap of almost a year, the head waiter still remembered him. May be, it was because of Vincent, the French guy we grew close to at the hostel. Vincent must be the only white guy that this restaurant has ever been host to and will ever be.

In front of Sewa Niketan. Pay your respects Mumbai! The new biker is in the town ;-). Santosh rode the bike from Marine Drive to the hostel, and I took it up from here till our place in Andheri.

P.S. -

1) The journey on the back had nothing much to write about. Ultimately, not only did I have my longest ride till date, I also managed to reach the office well in time.

2) The incidents mentioned here took place on 1st of Feb. To read the story of the first half of the night, click here.

My Name is Neel. N-E-E-L. Neel.

2010-02-05T21:58:00.022+05:30

Name?

Neel, Abhishek Neel.

Abhishek WHAT?

Abhishek Neel.

Nil? N-I-L. Nil?

No. Neel. N-E-E-L. Neel.

I almost hear the guy at the other end say – “What sort of name is that? Why Nil? Why not Lal, Pila, Hara, Baingani? Ye bhi koi naam hai?”

This is a situation that I have faced quite a number of times in my life. My first name being probably the most common Indian male name (i.e. if we agree to eliminate the competition from say the Amits and a few others), most people don’t have any problem understanding it. It is the second part, NEEL, which always causes the problem.

When put together, I think my complete name does sound a little weird. I mean how can anyone be named Abhishek Neel? Of all the second names possible, why Neel?

To be on a safer side, I think I should clarify it at the beginning. Although I may sound as if I do not like my name, it is not so. My name is highly unique and I do love its uniqueness. A simple search of “Abhishek Neel” on Facebook throws up only 4 Abhishek Neels. Out of them, it is only me who seems to be genuine. The respective figures for Orkut are 12 and 4.

However, I do think it lacks a natural flow that a name should ideally possess. I think my name has an abrupt ending. It ends with a sudden full stop, as if something more was going to follow, but which has been debarred forcefully from doing so.

How did I come to have this name?

Well, at the time of my birth my mother and father were more or less certain that I was going to be a boy. So, they had not even thought of a female name for the baby that was going to arrive shortly.

The name Abhishek was picked up by my mother. My father had thought of Parimal, after the name of my mother Parineeta, which in turn happens to be inspired by the highly celebrated Bengali novel of the same name written by Shri Sharat Chandra Chattopadhyay. Neel was added as the second name by Chhote Dadaji, my grandfather’s younger brother. This Neel actually comes from my father’s name Nil Ratan Baranwal, and hence is not my surname. How this idea came to my dadaji is something I don’t know. The practice of adding father’s name to the name of children is basically a South Indian and Maharashtrian practice, and certainly not a Bihari one.

So, it turns out that while I was close to being named on the name of my mother, I ended up having a name given by my mother and inspired by that of my father.

Would "Parimal Neel" have been a better name? Probably. It would definitely have carried with it a bit both of my father as well as my mother. But that purpose is served equally well by Abhishek Neel, isn't it?

A few years back (2000 to be more precise); at the time of filling up the Class X Board Examination forms, I was so bothered with the apparent sudden ending of my name that I had almost approached the office of Principal Maharaj to get my name changed to Abhishek Nil Ratan Baranwal. That, I somehow thought, was a more complete name and that it had a smoother flow to it than plain Abhishek Neel. Not only this, it would also somehow have brought me closer to my father, the need for which I am feeling more and more now.

I was born nameless. I have lived 25 years of my life as Abhishek Neel. Would I die the same? Most probably yes, until and unless someday my mind goes completely off-track and I feel an urgent need to break something old and really important. It would definitely be great to break an old concept or an age-old tradition. It would be some sort of a revolt against the human society. And it would definitely be liberating in some sense.

But then as you progress in your life, a time does come when your name almost completely loses its significance. I remember, till very recently the name that I heard the most was my household name. That, of late, I do not hear much. That is, until and unless I happen to be talking with someone from my family, which may be at the max for, say 5-10 minutes on a daily average.

Didn’t someone say, “What’s in a name? A rose will smell as sweet even if it were called by some other name.”? I think someone was certainly right.

----------------------------------

I passed out from Vidyapith in March, 2002. In the summer of 2006, I was in Kolkata to do an internship, when I decided to pay a visit to Belur Math, the global headquarters of the RamaKrishna Math and RamaKrishna Mission and the headquarters of my school. I intended not only to attend the evening Aarti, but also to meet Swami Suhitanandaji.

When I reached his office, I passed in a slip with my name written on it. When I was called in, the first question that he put to me was: “Neel na Lal?” And I shyly replied : “Neel Maharaj.”

The children of till Class VIth standard used to have a nice time in Suhitanandaji’s office in Deoghar. Everyday, in between the bathing time and the lunch time, a number of them used to assemble in his office and go through the really old, black and white photo collections of Vidyapith, while at the same time receiving Eclairs or some other toffee from him.

I also used to turn up there occasionally.

And everyday I turned up, he used to ask me the same question: “Neel na Lal?” to which I used to reply in the same shy manner: “Neel Maharaj.”

Suhitanandaji was the Secretary of Vidyapith till the middle of 1997. Then he was transferred to Belur Math as the organization needed his services in higher positions.

Between then and now, 9 long years had passed. But it seemed as if nothing had changed between us. He was the same person I remembered from my Vidyapith days, as humble and down to earth as always, although a bit older. And I was the same small Class VI student in his eyes. Of a huge 350-strong crowd of students, he still remembered my name.

I was over-joyed.

Was it due to the ancient Bharatiya Gurukula system of education (in which the students must stay with their teachers 24x7x(almost)365) that Vidyapith so diligently follows? Or was it due to the unconditional love and support that both the monastic and the non-monastic members of Vidyapith have always had towards us students?

Or was it due to the uniqueness of my name? And the unique question that he always put to me?

P.S.: I know the last reason of Swami Suhitanandaji Maharaj remembering me - the uniqueness of my name - is not a very convincing one. When you stay for so long with your Gurus day in and day out, you both tend to remember each other life long. That is one beautiful bond that Vidyapith provides its students with. I am sure, whenever anyone of us visits the school even so many years down the line, almost everyone - and that includes even the guards, the gardeners and the Dining Hall and dairy workers - on campus recognises us and remembers us by our names. That, at least, is still the case with me. However, I found this the best possible way to end this piece of writing; and so I went for it.

Pigeon Protest.

2010-02-04T22:44:00.013+05:30

Clicked these photographs inside The HyperCity Mall, Malad a few days back.

Don't they seem to say? : "Humble-most part of the nature though we are, we still protest against the illogical encroachments that you self-proclaimed civilised humans keep making on our living spaces."

(My Dear) Alka.

2010-02-03T21:23:00.045+05:30

Meri zindagi mein Kanya Rashi abhi tak udit nahi hui hai - This is the pet reply I give whenever any of my friends asks me about the presence of any girl whatsoever in my life.

Leave dates apart. I am 25 and, till now, I have never ever been out with a girl for even a simple and completely harmless dinner. Worse, if I start counting the number of girls with whom I have had any "Substantial Conversation" in my quarter-of-a-century of existence, I am dead sure I will have to stop the exercise far before I reach the smallest 2 digit natural number possible. And “Substantial Conversation” here can very comfortably be defined at say around 50 sentences per month.

Simply put, I am afraid of girls. Very afraid.

It is strange, considering the fact that the first friend that I had in a girl was way back in Prep (or was it Nursery?). Or maybe, it is completely logical. Maybe the reason behind this is those 9 most formative years of my life that I spent in Vidyapith. If we agree not to take into consideration the approximately 150 bovines that we had in our dairy, the only female that we could see for days together was a very old lady, with hair so white they reflected all the sunrays that fell on them. She visited our campus almost daily to cut grass. However, if the enviable improvement that many of my fellow Vidyapith brethren have made in this field is any indication, it would be a gross mistake to put any fault on the part of good, old Vidyapith, instead of considering it more of a personal failure.

However, the purpose of this post is not to crib and be sad, but to celebrate the girl that I just mentioned above in passing.

I don’t even properly remember the class I was in when I met her. Was it Prep or was it still Nursery? Since the image that comes to my mind happens to be of the entrance gate of Pristine Children's School, it in all probability must have been Prep. Does that mean that North Point School, where I had my Nursery education, was devoid of girls? Can't say. In the image, I am clinging hard to my mother. Afraid that she is going to leave me alone in the school, I am crying desperately. And somehow this girl also happens to be standing there. Her parents have already left. And God knows why she is consoling me and telling that it would be fine, that it is the first day of school for her as well.

She is Alka.

Simply Alka.

I don’t know her surname, and chances are that I never knew it at all. When you are so small, finding out complete names of your friends is certainly the last thing on your mind.

I remember vividly the classroom where we used to have our lessons and the small playground outside, where, during the recess, children used to play and have their tiffins. What I don't remember is what she really looked like. Did she have a circular face? Or a long one? Was she fair? Or dark? Or was it some shade in the middle? I also don’t remember us sharing our tiffin boxes or water bottles, and other stuff like pencils, erasers and sharpeners. But I am sure such exchanges must have happened between us.

Two years down the line, I got admission in Kendriya Vidyalaya. The day we said goodbye to each other, there was no exchange of any gifts, addresses or contact numbers.

Or photographs.

The children in those days still behaved like children. Not like grown-ups, as they do now. Those were the days when childhood had still not lost its innocence.

------------------

(My Dear) Alka,

(Should I address you as a Miss or as a Mrs., in case you have already found yourself an eligible life-partner and are happily married?)

Yours is the only name that I remember from the first three years of my school. And you are the only girl with the name Alka that I know. Isn't that strange? Especially because your name is so simple it appears to be one of those many Indian female names that should have had been more common?

After I left Pristine Children's School, I went to Kendriya Vidyalaya, from where I shifted to Vidyapith in Class IV. In the April of the year that I passed out from Vidyapith (2002), I decided to hunt down my friends from my previous schools. It had been 9 long years since I had met even a single one of them. So, I picked up my bicycle and followed the trail that my school rickshaw used to take. Surprisingly, I was able to dig out quite a good number of them. Most of them were still living in the same houses as they were 9 years earlier. At that time, I wondered whether I should try locating you down as well?

But then I dropped the idea. I did so because:

a. You being a girl, probably it would not have looked decent enough to hunt you down after a gap of almost 14-15 years.

b. I was not sure whether Pristine Childern's School maintained the records of its old students. I don't think it does. It was just one of the many round-the-corner schools, which simply should not be expected to put in that much extra effort to maintain old records. And that, alas, was the only starting point I had from which I could have started my search.

c. Most important, somewhere down under I had this fear that probably you will not even be able to recall my name. It would then have turned into a very awkward situation. Sometimes I wonder : Is it only the boys who tend to remember so fondly the girls they met in their life? Or does the same apply to the girls as well? Again, you happen to be the first girl to whom I am putting down this question. And I do not intend to get an answer.

Anyways, I am pretty sure you must have grown into a very beautiful and confident young lady by this time and must have carved out a good, satisfying and well-paying career for yourself.

It would be nice if we could meet up some time.

But then, we both know that the chances of such a meeting are next to non-existent. And in case, if I do happen to meet some 'Alka' in my life again, be rest assured I am not going to try finding out whether that 'Alka' is the same as you. In the matter of girls, I have turned up into a completely unconfident and confused young man, you see.

I don’t know what else there is that I can write to you.

I don’t have any photograph of yours and I am completely unable to affix a face to the empty frame. Thankfully, at least I do remember your name. And trust me; this name of yours is going to hang out with me for my whole life.

You remain, after all, the first friend that I ever had in a girl.

Love and Prayers,

(Yours) Abhishek.

Alka - The frame is going to remain empty. For eternity.

(Alka koi kalpana ki udan nahi, ek haqikat hai. Wo thi, aur Insha Allah aj bhi hai. Farq tab aur ab mein bas itna sa hai ki tab wo mere saath thi; aj 700 crore logon ki is bhid mein kahin gum ho gayi hai. Aur lakh koshishon ke bawzud main use dhundh nahi sakta.)

I have lost my Rhythm with Pen.

2010-02-01T20:10:00.010+05:30

Thoughts were easy to come. Words - even they were not a big deal. It was the sentences that would simply not take their desired shapes.

It was 2 a.m. when Santosh woke me up. He was drunk. Both the booze that we had purchased in the evening and the Arsenal-Manchester United match that he was seeing had finished. He needed some more booze for the night. And for that, he needed some cash. And so he woke me up. So, in the pretty late hours of the night, we went to the Citibank ATM at the Tunga restaurant near Udyog Sarathi.

On our return with the needed stock, I went to bed. I really needed to get myself some sleep. I had not slept the whole Friday night due to the pain and the whole day of Saturday had been spent in the hospital. Worse, tomorrow was Monday and I had to go to that hell which corporate morons so euphemistically call office.

But sleep was not going to oblige. So, after struggling in bed for around an hour or so, I gave up. I woke-up and decided to write something for my blog. There have been quite a number of thoughts in my head lately that I must pen down, unless I am comfortable risking their complete loss.

Now, the problem at Santosh’s place is that these guys don’t have a proper laptop. Santosh had one. But he had to submit it back to his office. Remember? He has resigned and is enjoying his days of complete freedom these days. Manoj’s laptop, I discovered, has most of its keys dysfunctional and hence the best use that it can be put to is watching movies and other craps that you might be interested in. As for Sibin, this bhai sahab has gone to Cochin and as it appears his laptop has gone with him as well.

So, at last I decided to jot down my thoughts on a sheet of paper with one of the pens that I could find lying around.

It was here that the problem manifested itself. The sentences would simply not come out. The pen, it seemed would simply not run on the paper in any meaningful manner whatsoever. It seemed I had lost my rhythm with the pen.

It must have been at least two years since I last created something innovative and beautiful with my pen. Last two years, I have been completely out of touch with that beautifully simple, age-old writing equipment. True, I have been using one of those in the office all through these days. But such use has been restricted to jotting down some small illogical pseudo-legal notes or other equally illogical numerical figures. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, in the middle of the night, here I was, discovering that I have completely lost my beautiful rhythm with my pen. And with it, I felt as if I had lost my simplicity. And innocence.

Why did this happen is a question that must be answered.

Is this the result of being surrounded too much by the modern day technological gadgets? Or is it the lack of open spaces, great expanses of sky overhead and green trees all around in a city as over congested as Mumbai? Or is it that I have been consumed completely by the illogical, money making rat-race of the corporate world (which has taken me closer to Lakshmi, but at the same time has vastly increased my distance from Saraswati)? Or is it simply the fact that I have lost the art of writing beautiful, sensible paragraphs?

P.S. - The incidents described in the post occured on the night of 31st January, 2010. Ultimately, I was not able to write down anything at all. At 4:30 a.m., I and Santosh decided that it was a nice morning to go to Colaba on a bike. And so, by 4:50, we were well on our way to South Mumbai. That deserves a separate post all together, which I will post in near future.

Bhujiawala Gets Lifer.

2010-02-01T08:42:00.004+05:30

Haldiram Bhujiawala proprietor Prabhu Shankar Agarwal has been sentenced to life imprisonment by a fast track court in Kolkata. And this he gets not for putting extra mirchi in bhujias ;-)

Don't believe me? Read the full article here.

I am in pain.

2010-01-30T00:05:00.012+05:30

Terrible pain. For almost the last 10 days. And the worse part is that, except for Neil and Santosh I don't have anyone to share it with.

My whole left rib, both on the front and the back, has been aching since long. And I don't even know the precise reason for that. It may be any one or any combinations of the following:

a. The fall from the bike - As mentioned earlier, I have fallen a total of 4 times till now. However, the funny thing is that while all the falls have been on the right side, the pain is completely on the left. Is there a possibility that the shock waves from the fall that originated on the right travelled through my body towards left and found themselves a place comfortable enough to settle down there? I am not sure.

b. The office job - I sincerely pray that this not be the reason. The job that I do is quite mundane as I have to keep sitting in front of a stupid desktop and keep staring at even more stupid legal documents day after day after day. Two of my colleagues have recently fallen prey to the bad sitting posture. While one has got himself a slip-disk, the other has got something with some weird name that I can't even recall. He needs a complete bed-rest for a few weeks and has gone on an unpaid leave to his home. Isn't it sad that you get all these problems so early in your life, and that too doing something that you don't at all enjoy doing? I would no doubt prefer terrible pains due to bike falls rather than even a mild one from my office job.

c. I suspect there might be a third reason as well, which I will, for some reasons, not share on this public platform.

Besides this, I have been having a bad cough for almost the same duration. Although I have consulted Chhota Babu back home and have been taking some medicines prescribed by him, the relief is not really there.

I think it is time I consulted some doctor on the matter. I have been ignoring it and relying on my natural immunity for too long and it has failed to deliver me the results yet.

My Closest Save till Date.

2010-01-28T22:42:00.013+05:30

Yesterday, at around 8.30 in the evening, I had the closest save of my life till date.

It so happened that as most of the days, I was walking back home from the office with one of my colleagues. And as usual, I was careless enough not to walk at the ultimate side of the road, where the pedestrians must walk if they love their dear life. Now, there happens to be this bus stop just before the Chakala Junction from where we take a left turn to reach Poonam Nagar where I am currently staying. Just as we were crossing the bus-stop - I on the right side of my colleague - I suddenly heard this loud horn of a bus. I turned around and to my – I don’t know which expression to use here - I find one of these newly launched A/C buses that ply in the city of Mumbai less than a foot behind me. The bus was still in motion and I had barely enough time to escape it. But somehow – thank God - the Universe conspired and I managed to do it just in the nick of time. As the bus crossed me less than 3-4 inches away, I stood on my finger-tips and could very clearly feel the wind rushing between myself and the bus.

While we were standing on the side, my colleague cursing the bus-driver and calling him names, the bus swallowed and vomited its share of passengers from the stop and moved on. The driver of the bus had turned towards my side and was looking continuously at me for a few seconds. And although I could not see his lips moving, I am quite sure he must have been abusing me in at least equal measures as we were doing him.

However, the strange thing is that even after the incident I was neither shaking nor was afraid of anything at all. Since afternoon yesterday, I was feeling a bit depressed in the office. My mind had stopped working and had shut itself almost completely away from the outside world. It was completely in a state of separate peaceful existence. And that I think must have been the reason of my complete indifference towards the almost sinister incident that had just unfolded itself.

Since neither of us two were feeling like walking down all the way to home, we were already searching for the auto before the incident. Luckily, the first auto we asked after this agreed to drop us to our place. Although my dear friend is least likely to agree to this, looking back in retrospect, I don’t think that my decision to take an auto was in any way intensified by the incident. There are reasons for that:

a. I am learning how to ride bike since a few days back. Although I am already taking it in the Mumbai traffic now and am gradually increasing the radius of my territory, I have already fallen 4 times in the middle of the traffic. This has fetched me my fair share of injuries. I have a big enough bruise on the upper side of my right foot due to which I am not wearing shoes to the office these days. Floaters that I wear are also not friendly as they too hurt the bruise. So the moment I reach office, I get rid of them even and walk bare foot the whole day in the office. So, as I was not in a state to walk, I was already planning to take an auto back home before I was almost finished off by the bus.

b. Due to the same reason, I had taken an auto even the day before yesterday and will be doing the same for some days to come at least.

The bus-stop at Chakala where I almost got crushed.

However, the good thing, apart from the fact that I am still alive and have written this post, is that yesterday, after having a quick dinner at Santosh’s place, I was back again on the roads on his Honda Unicorn. I went to Juhu Beach and back, my longest trip till date as a bike rider and had the smoothest and most confident ride till now ;-)

It should have had been the first post ..

2008-12-12T10:27:00.010+05:30

Although highly irregular, this Blog came into existence way back on 21st of June, 2008. It has been 6 long months since then, and I thought an introduction to it and why I chose to call it what I call it was necessary. And hence here is the article which should ideally have been the first article to be posted here. But then, you never heard anyone saying that things need to happen in a fixed order, did you?

***

I am neither (completely) here nor (completely) there.

While I am a Bihari present physically (for the time being at least) in Maharashtra, I am also present back home in Bihar, at least mentally.

While I write this blog on a computer (and am increasing growing uncomfortable at writing with my pen on a piece of paper), I still read newspapers and story books and novels in the paper edition (and am really uncomfortable at reading these on the electronic version). So, while I belong to a great extent to the 21st century, I cannot let go of the things that date a couple of centuries back.

While I am educated in India, given a chance (and a good standard of living) I would love moving back to Bharat and use my Indian education for Her betterment.

So, I do not exist at one single location or in one single time frame at any given time. I am always partly here and partly there. I am omnipresent.

For this situation, we have a saying in Hindi – Dhobi ka kutta na ghar ka na ghat ka – meaning a washer man’s dog belongs neither to the banks (of a river or any other water body, where 21st century India still washes a great majority of Her clothes) nor to the (washer man’s) house. My situation being very much like this, I become a dog, a washer man’s dog. And since, I still get to retain my thinking faculties; I call this blog - ‘Blog: Of a Thinking Dog.’

***

Having said that, I must admit that I am not a writer or anything of that sort. Neither all my views here may be correct (as per you) always, but then this is how I think and what I think. So, I hope that despite all our disagreements, you will read this space and keep coming back. So ..

Welcome. To the Blog: Of a Thinking Dog.

Welcome. To my Blog.

Making Earth a Better Place.

2008-12-11T14:37:00.018+05:30

I came to know about Better Place through an article in today’s The Indian Express. When the price of crude had reached an all time high of more than $100 per barrel a few months back, I got interested in alternative technologies that are going to power our transportation in the times to come.

So, when I came across this The Indian Express article titled “We don’t need Detroit” by Thomas L. Friedman, I read it at once. In the article, Friedman argues how the recent attempts of the US Government to bail out the American automobile giants from bankruptcy might be a case of ‘pouring billions of dollars into improving typewriters on the eve of the birth of the PC.’ He points out towards Better Place, an Israeli start up, trying to create a transportation service model based on electric vehicles and robust enough to free the human kind of its dependency on oil.

The world is afraid both of its energy security (due to the fast depleting fossil fuel reserves) and worsening climatic conditions; and the transportation industry being one of the biggest culprits, the most workable solution is to shift to the vehicles powered by electricity (preferably generated from renewable resources like wind and sun, to which Better Place claims to be committed). While the vehicles and high power lithium based batteries already exist, it is the infrastructure required to support such transportation on a large scale that is lacking. So, while a person willing to reduce his carbon footprints may switch over to electric vehicles, he continues to depend on the conventional transportation, as his vehicle has a limited electricity storage capacity that cannot last after a certain distance, thus reducing his mobility.

It is here that Better Place comes into picture. Its business model is simple. In fact it already exists, but in a different sector - in the sector of mobile phones. The mission of Better Place is to modify and apply this business model in the field of transportation. It envisions a system where electric cars replace mobile phones, battery recharge stations replace cell towers and electric recharge grid replaces cellular networks. While in the mobile phone system, the consumer pays for the minute-by-minute access to cell towers connected together in cellular networks, in the Better Place model, he pays for miles.

There are basically two important ingredients in this business model –
i) Charging Spots, and
ii) Battery Exchange Stations.

Charging Spots:

Located all over the places such as parking garages, retail spaces, street curbs and the homes, these will keep the batteries topped off. All the vehicles in the BP network will have the same kinds of plug points. Vehicles that do not belong to the network will be allowed to charge themselves as guests with the help of suitable converters.

Battery Exchange Stations:

These are the replacements of Gas Stations (or Petrol Pumps) in the BP model. An electric vehicle will go to these Stations and exchange its exhausted battery with a fully recharged one and pay for the same, the driver all the while sitting comfortably in his driving seat. The company claims that the time needed for doing all this will be a flat 3 minutes.

The model obviously is not only good for the nations, who eventually free themselves from their dependency on oil (a large chunk of which comes from Middle East) and for the vehicle owners (as electric vehicles cost much less per mile than those run on fossil fuels), but also for the development of the non-renewable energy sector - Better Place envisions that all the vehicles under its fold will run on electricity generated from renewable resources and as the model expands in its reach, it will open up a vast market for the renewable energy, thus persuading the sector to find out more innovative and cheaper methods to produce the same.

International Collaborations:

Israel has fixed the year 2020 to free its economy of its dependency on oil, thus becoming the first country all over the world to set up such a target. While Israel and Denmark have become the first two country partners for Better Place, Australia, California and Hawaii (as Better Place site mentions) are also committed to deploy electric car networks. Moreover, very recently Japan also invited Better Place to build Battery Exchange Stations in the country and to participate in a government pilot project to encourage the use of green cars, thus making it the only foreign company invited to participate in the project in which major Japanese automobile giants are going to participate.

What India should do?:

India can also reach out to Better Place and ask it to start a similar pilot project here. We have a well developed electric vehicle segment that comprises not only four wheelers but also two wheelers. While the home grown Reva is the highest selling electric car all over the world (performing far better in European nations than in India due to the lack of adequate infrastructure and incentives here), even groups such as Ajanta (surprised?), one of India’s leading manufacturers of compact fluorescent lamps and vitrified tiles, besides large players such as Tatas, are also going to enter this segment not very far in the future. Moreover, India does need to get rid of its oil dependency not only because importing crude creates a huge hole in its foreign exchange (most of which comes from highly volatile and unreliable Middle East), but also because some of our cities are some of the most polluted the world over. Besides, why should we not tap aggressively into our highly abundant solar energy resources (Remember, we are a hot country with a great amount of sunshine) and wind power (of which we are one of largest producers the world over)?

Human race, it seems (if one believes the still highly debated scientific reports), has very less time left to battle the ever worsening climatic situations. There is not much time to experiment, but to start putting up all the available resources and working towards making our planet a more livable and Better Place. Initiatives like Better Place can help us tide over a lot of problems that are our own creations, given they get proper support and start operating profitably as soon as possible.

P.S. –

A. Jews and Israelis are no doubt one of the most brilliant races and have contributed a lot towards the development of Sciences and Human Knowledge. What is truly refreshing about this Indian Express article is that it appears at a time when India is still trying to chart out ways to deal with the new age terrors and the newspapers are still covered with news regarding the Mumbai Attack, in which Jews were specifically targeted.

B. The article also points to the fact that Israel is a country in the pursuit of Science and Scientific solutions to the problems of the human race, something which the rest of the Middle East seems to have completely abandoned. It may be one of the main reasons why Israel may succeed despite being in a perpetual state of war with its immediate neighbours.

Suggested Readings:

The Long Tailpipe – Blog of Shai Agassi (Founder and CEO, Better Place)

While Detroit Slept – This is the article published in The Indian Express (and published earlier in The New York Times). Since I could find it on The Indian Express website, I am providing the link of The New York Times.

Some Indian electric vehicle companies:

Reva
Ajanta Manufacturing Limited
Electrotherm

The Mumbai attack.

2008-12-05T19:18:00.005+05:30

Day before yesterday I went to the Taj, one of the sites of the recent terrorist attacks in Mumbai.

My office used to be (It shifted this Monday to Andheri) just outside the Churchgate Station, which is at the max 15 minutes walk both from Colaba (the location of Taj and Leopold) and Marine Drive (the location of Oberoi-Trident). On the day of the attack, I had left the office quite early, walked all the way down to the CST Station and had taken a bus to my hostel around 7:45 p.m. to 8:00 p.m., completely unaware of what was going to happen at that very place (CST) an hour or two down the line.

When Brajesh called to give me the news and ask about my well being, I was in the hostel in the room of Vincent with Santosh. He told that some terrorists were on a shooting rampage down there and suggested me to stay where I was and not to move. I could not understand and argued that it must be gang war between the rival gangs and not the terrorists. Terrorists, after all, do not act this way. Their modus operandi, I argued, is to plant bombs in places and melt back into the larger society from which they emerge. Little did I know that this time, they intended not only to kill a few people, but to attack directly at the very financial hub of India and take the whole nation of 1 billion people hostage.

This was Wednesday, 26th of November.

For the next two days all the offices, including mine, in and around Colaba were closed. Till Saturday night, I was in the hostel more or less completely glued to the television in the hostel canteen, watching the battle going on between the Indian Security Forces (NSG, Army and Mumbai Police) and the handful of terrorists, who had taken a good number of people (mainly foreigners) hostage.

By Sunday morning, the forces had killed all the terrorists (and captured one alive) and taken in control all the three buildings.

On Monday, the offices opened as usual.

Although the life has started to return to normal, there is a rage in the common man through out the country about the repeated failure of the Intelligence and lackluster attitude of the government. Protest marches have been going on through out the country against the failure of the government machinery in protecting its people. So, when I got an SMS from a friend about the protest march going to be held at Gateway of India, I decided to go. Moreover, since my office has shifted to Andheri, I did not have the chance to visit these places after the attack.

So, day before yesterday, just a week after the attack started, I was at the Gateway – to participate in the protest marches and pay my respect to the persons who had died. I had come directly from the office.

What I had expected was a peaceful long candle march of people full of silence. Instead, to my disappointment, what I found was a large number of people divided into a large number of groups walking all over the place in no order and discipline at all. They were all shouting slogans against the government and politicians, calling them names and urging people to use their right of not to vote and show the politicians that enough is enough, that the country is frustrated of them and that it needs a positive and decisive change.

Then there were people who were shouting slogans against Pakistan and were urging India to go to a direct war with the troublesome neighbour. Little do they understand that the government in Pakistan itself is very weak. There, it is the ISI and the Army who are stronger than the government. And although there are evidences about the role of Pakistan based elements in these terrorist attacks against India, I genuinely doubt that war is any solution to the problem. After all, is Pakistan not itself one of the worst victims of terrorism?

The anger that is there in the masses right now must be channeled in the positive direction and a healthy debate must be started as to how the government of this country can be made more accountable and the country more secure and livable. One thing that this attack has definitely shown, apart from giving us the opportunity to discus and debate, that whatever come, India, at the end of the day, is one single country, united both in pain and pleasure. This was a highly needed reminder to the politicians of the ilk of Raj Thackeray. What is sad is that it was an incident of such a high negative magnitude that had to happen to make it amply clear.

P.S. – On a personal front, I have dropped reading the Times of India and Hindustan Times and have graduated instead to The Indian Express. Shifting from the multi-colour pages of ToI and HT to a serious newspaper is no doubt an uphill task. However, I hope I will be able to manage the same. Let’s see.

Bihar - Changing for the better?

2008-07-20T14:49:00.012+05:30

Things seem to be changing for the better in one of the states of India where they probably need to change the most. Bihar.

Fifteen years of long rule of Rashtriya Janata Dal is often accused of pushing the state into a state of continuous downward motion. While the state no doubt lost crucial, long years during that period, probably the most unfortunate thing that happened to it was that it came to be looked upon and perceived through the one and only window of Lalu Prasad Yadav; incapable, corrupt and criminal. I remember when I came for my higher educations to Pune in Maharashtra five years back, to my utter surprise, there was this batch mate of mine from Kerala who genuinely wondered if I had seen murders taking place and whether families in my home state kept locally made firearms in their houses.

Fortunately, with the coming in power of the Nitish Kumar government, things have started to change for the better. Not only has Bihar become the first state in the country to accept Right to Information applications over telephone, the state government has also started investing in road, educational and other infrastructures with an state of urgency, apart from organizing meetings with industrialists and Non Resident Biharis in order to convince them to invest in the still unexplored potential of the state. With all this, relatively positive news has started coming out from the state.

A case in point is the issue of India Today dated 7th of July, 2008. The cover story in this issue is titled Pioneers of Change, and talks about fifty entities/individuals picked from all over the country that have not succumbed to the day to day mundane life, but have chosen to do something positive and socially more relevant things for the communities that they live in. And guess what? Out of these fifty stories, three come from the state of Bihar. So while Abhayanand, an Additional DGP, runs a coaching institute and prepares children from poor families for IIT entrance examination completely free of cost in Patna; Prabhat Shandilya has revives more than a dozen abandoned water resources with the help of local youth, in and around the town of Gaya. Three stories out of fifty converts into a healthy 6% for a state with an 8% population share of the whole country. Excellent, I would say, especially considering the fact that there was little, if at all any good news coming out of the state till the very recent past.

Apart from this, it seems, the state has also started to experience the highly needed reverse brain drain. There was this news a week back or two in the national media about one Kaushlendra Prasad, an IIM Ahmedabad graduate choosing not to opt for the placements of the esteemed institute, but instead sell vegetables on modified carts in the streets of Patna to start with, and then take the business nation wide in the years to come. He in fact, has already launched himself in the business and already has a fleet of a hundred or so carts up and running in Patna, the capital city of Bihar. He apparently nurtures a dream of building Brand Bihar and to promote the state as the vegetable basket of the country, and is ready to dedicate the crucial years of his life towards realizing the same. Then again, there is this Dr. Ravi Chandra, a dentist by education and an MBA from the well known Institute of Rural Management Anand, Gujarat, who has also left his well paying job, choosing instead to work with the poor of Bihar in the field of Microfinance through his NGO named Bihar Development Trust. While still struggling to raise more funds, he claims to have been relatively successful and has apparently already disbursed a loan of Rs.10 lakh or so among the poor of Bihar.

While stories like these might not be that important for others, for Bihar they definitely are. After all, it is not very often that people who have gone out of this state return. Can the return of these people be an indication of the things to come in the future? Do they indicate that Bihar is an idea whose time has come and that it will not be too far in the future that the state will rise from its ashes and demand its rightful place in the ranks of the Indian states? Hopefully yes. But then it is a question which probably is answered best when answered by time.

Agreement 123: Which way should India go?

2008-06-26T17:02:00.012+05:30

Definitely, the way the Prime Minister Dr. Man Mohan Singh wants her to go. Why?

First of all, our Prime Minister is not a politician.

He is a statesman, a scholar, and an economist who became a politician by default. That being, it can be assumed safely that he has no vested interests in the agreement getting signed. Unlike the politicians, he himself has no intention or greed for remaining in power, and hence has the capability of thinking in terms of the best possible national interests of India.

Second, he is a man with foresight.

Remember the economic reforms of the 1990s? It is Dr. Singh who is still credited for the same. At the time the reforms were being carried out, there was fear all around that by allowing foreign companies to come into India, we are moving towards imperialism again, that we will not be able to stand up to the competition with international business houses and ultimately our companies will be taken over by them. Well, nothing of that sort has happened. On the other hand, today it is the Indian business houses, whether they be as well known as Tatas and Birlas or someone as little known as Maneesh Pharmaceuticals, that are on the shopping spree in the international market. Interestingly, India, today, is the third largest foreign investor in United Kingdom; thus turning the empire of yesteryears on its head.

Now, India of 1990s was obviously far less confident and shaky than what she is today. If this can be the miracle story of a courageous step of a far less confident and economically insecure India, just guess what the impact will be of giving the power-hungry India a completely new source of energy through 123 a few years down the line.

Third, let the nation not be high jacked by the communists.

Communists are a failure all over the world. There is not a single nation the world over that has succeeded under the rule of the communists. A country as powerful as USSR, incidentally also the birthplace of communism, was brought down to its knees due to the wrong policies of its government, and the biggest offshoot of its disintegration Russia is rapidly embracing capitalism today. True, there is China. But even there, capitalism has been embraced completely. They are in fact far more successful in attracting foreign capital to their country than what we have been. In the backdrop of their history the world over, how far will it be judicious to let the country be high jacked by the communists and let go of such an important agreement?

Fourth, we need to diversify our energy basket.

We import three fourth of the petroleum that we need in order to keep our economy moving. And most of it comes from the highly unstable Middle East. With Asia in the rapid growth trajectory, there has already been huge competition in the international petroleum market, which has resulted into the crude reaching never before prices. We need to explore potential alternative sources energy and start diversifying before it is too late. Agreement 123 is surely a step in that direction. With it not only will we be able to produce huge amounts of electricity, but will also be ready in time to embrace the new age transportation that is increasingly going to consist of vehicles running on alternative sources of energy, electricity being the most important of them all.

Fifth, global warming needs to be reversed. And fast.

This is something that needs little discussion.

The island nation of Kiribati is probably going to be the first sovereign victim of the rising sea levels, it being predicted that the whole country may be submerged by the middle of this century. Its government has already started negotiations with New Zealand and Australia to find asylums for its citizens when their nation has gone.

In the Indian context, Himalayan glaciers, on which whole of North India depends for its perennial supply of water, have already started vanishing. Besides, it is predicted that half of Bangladesh and major portions of coastal India, including Mumbai will be sub-merged due to the rising sea levels caused by global warming; leading to the kind of human displacements mankind has never seen before. If the damage to the global climate is not reversed fast, the future seems to be bleak for us as well.

Under such conditions it becomes hugely important for India to start shifting to some non-polluting source of energy for the sake of its own future; nuclear energy, no doubt, will be a smart move in that direction. Thus success of 123 is vital not only for our energy needs, but is also linked with our survival.

Sixth, we need the Americans and the Americans need us.

The matter, as it stands today, is that USA is worried of the rapid rise of communist China and needs a counter-balance in this region; and there is no other nation besides India that can fulfill that purpose. While we no doubt resemble the Chinese in our vastness, population and economic potential, we also cherish the ambitions of being a tough competitor to China, apart from being a global power someday in the future. Moreover, because of our being a democracy and having an almost completely peaceful past, USA will obviously be more comfortable with us as a major power rather than that position being occupied by China.

On our part, being a developing nation we need to be as close as possible to the nation that has contributed the most towards the development of the human race. Moreover, a visit to the post World War II era will make it amply clear that the nations that parted with the American block during that period are today far more successful than those that took side with the Soviet Union. The obvious comparisons can be between Western Europe and South Korea on the one hand and Eastern Europe and North Korea on the other.

Putting our seal of approval on the 123 agreement will not only open up a vast source of energy to us, but will also take us closer to the American nation, thus opening up a huge lot of potential opportunities for us in the future.

Have FIRE in the BELLY? Go! DARE!!

2008-06-21T06:50:00.010+05:30

I came across a very good magazine a few days back. Itself a start up, it deals with the issue of entrepreneurship. The magazine is aptly named DARE, with 'R' in color Red, which interestingly refers to fire, Red in color, which burns in the belly of the entrepreneur.

A visit to their website (which is still dysfunctional, except the home page) proclaims out rather loudly “NOT SUITABLE FOR THOSE WHO LIKE TO PLAY SAFE.” Rightly so, being an entrepreneur is a very risky thing, and although there is very different kind of excitement in creating something new, from the scratch, not many people risk to trade in this rather rarely traveled path.

However, I feel that the magazine is very rightly timed, and if you follow it over a period of few months, you come to know that it has already established its following, which continues to grow with each new issue of it.

With the opening up of the economy the urge to take risks has increased manifold, and there are Indians today who are not content with their nine to five job, and would love to soil their hands and make something new from the scratch. There are many who have brilliant ideas with huge potentials, but are not that well known as of now. And we find them going solo in fields as diverse as pharmaceuticals, auto parts, solar energy (SELCO is a rather new and innovative player in this field), microfinance and automobile services. So while suddenly there was this news a few days back of a rather unknown Maneesh Pharma acquiring 51% stake in US-based Synovics Pharmaceuticals for an undisclosed amount, the facts that close to 97% of the parts used in Nano have been made by Indian firms is not a secret anymore.

However, while there are opportunities all around for anyone who is innovative and original, there are problems aplenty as well. Starting from the unchartered territory of large number of confusing and probably unwanted laws, there are problems of procuring funds in order to grow one’s business and make it profitable as well. Besides, initial years can be very disappointing and lonely, and it is at such times that one would find the need to communicate with people who are either on the same path as themselves or have been through the same already.

DARE, I find, is a magazine handmade for these very circumstances. Not only does it provide highly needed exposure to start-ups, it also comes up every month with report about exiting opportunities in fields as diverse as waste management and urban mass transportation. Moreover, it provides information as to how and where to look for venture capitalists and angel investors who may be interested in investing in one’s business, apart from dedicating two sections “FEEDBACK” and "EXPRESSION" which act as platforms for readers to interact and share their problems and knowledge with each other.

Although employed as of now, I myself cherish ambitions of starting my own business a few years down the line. No doubt, I have become a regular reader of DARE myself, and recommend it sincerely to those who have that hot, red Fire burning in their belly.