Anupam, Smriti, and I, all three of us were quite vociferous in our childhood. Some of us created songs, some wrote poetry, and some created dialogues even before entering the school.
Sample this:
Poetry
It is a long one, describing the saga of a king, his queen, pages, etc. The poem began thus:
Ek Tha Raja, Oh Oh Oh!
Ek Thee Rani, Oh Oh Oh!
The verse had a somewhat tragic end, which I recall as below:
Rani Mar Gayee,
Dasee Bhaag Gayee!
Dialogue
It was a result of imagination on how different members of the family would react to the same situation.
The situation was quite simple.
The main door is locked. It is night. There is no power. Knocks on the door are not resulting in desired response. The visitor has no option but to cry out for help.
Visitor One (heavy, authoritative voice): Darwaaaaza Kholo! Hum Paaapaaa Hain!
Visitor Two (sweet voice): Mami! O Mami! Darwaza Kholo! Hum Mummy Hain!
Visitor Three (a sing-song voice): Mamiiiiii! O-o-o Mamiiiiiii! Hum Kaise Aa Paate Hain! Dalwaaja Bun(d) Hai!
Song
This song was created impromptu after the genius observed a steam engine entering a railway station. The first line ended on a high note, the second one on a level note, the third one on a low note, and the fourth one rhymed with the sound of the steam engine. Usually the song was sung with a stick in the hand of the composer, who used to hit the nearest object to lay emphasis on the words in the last line.
Injun (Engine) Ke (Ki) Siti
Injun Ke Dainda (Danda, the bar affixed on the wheels)
Injun Ke Paiyya (Pahiya)
Tik! Tik! Tik!
शनिवार, 19 सितंबर 2009
सोमवार, 17 अगस्त 2009
Weird Thoughts
I am indisposed for the last three days. Hints of body ache, lack of stamina, and bouts of shiver once or twice a day sum up the symptoms.
Nothing serious.
Luckily the last two days were holidays. I took rest. Perhaps too much of it. It was difficult to sleep at night. I battled with weird thoughts, and finally succumbed to them. Suppose I die of this seemingly simple illness. I am sure, my wife will be able to manage. Rather than her being defeated by circumstances, I have seen her emerging victorious from most of them. My son is more matured than I am, and will be able to handle the situation tactfully. My daughter will be able to continue her education, thanks to some unselfish support from her brother.
So, I can die in peace.
I lived a very ordinary life. A selfish life. I do not think I did unqualified favours to anyone. No eye needs to be wet when I kick the bucket. And no good deeds need to be deferred in my memory.
Sometimes I feel that though I could not do wonders in the present life, I will try and help people as a ghost! A true defeatist.
Finally, sleep overcame thoughts. I got up the next day, alive.
Nothing serious.
Luckily the last two days were holidays. I took rest. Perhaps too much of it. It was difficult to sleep at night. I battled with weird thoughts, and finally succumbed to them. Suppose I die of this seemingly simple illness. I am sure, my wife will be able to manage. Rather than her being defeated by circumstances, I have seen her emerging victorious from most of them. My son is more matured than I am, and will be able to handle the situation tactfully. My daughter will be able to continue her education, thanks to some unselfish support from her brother.
So, I can die in peace.
I lived a very ordinary life. A selfish life. I do not think I did unqualified favours to anyone. No eye needs to be wet when I kick the bucket. And no good deeds need to be deferred in my memory.
Sometimes I feel that though I could not do wonders in the present life, I will try and help people as a ghost! A true defeatist.
Finally, sleep overcame thoughts. I got up the next day, alive.
सोमवार, 20 जुलाई 2009
Adventures of a Different Kind
Rani ensured that Smriti got settled at the hostel in Delhi, and took a flight back to Bangalore. After the flight, it was the bus. She was to reach till the drop point on the highway, after which I was supposed to pick her up and drive down to our home. It would have taken only about five minutes, so I took the car out at 0015, only to find that a tyre was punctured. I tried to park the car back, but it refused to climb the portico. I had already wasted about two minutes.
There was no further time to lose. I called up Rani and informed her that I was walking down to receive her. I soon realised that if I continued to walk, she would have to wait on the highway with a large suitcase in the dead of the night.
I ran about a quarter of a kilometre in my Bata chappals. Some dogs appreciated my athletic pursuit, some objected to it, and some decided in favour of a closer examination.
After receiving Rani, I played a symphony by dragging her suitcase over the pebbles, the potholes, the speed breakers, etc., throughout the half-a-kilometre walk. The suitcase did not like it and conveyed its displeasure by picking favourite spots on both sides of my ankles for repeated assaults. Not to be cowed down, I cursed the suitcase and its family tree every time my dignity was challenged.
Ever enthusiastic to make things better, I replaced the wheel with the stepney the next morning, only to find that it was in total sympathy with its just ousted sister. I wonder how the stepney became unusable in three years flat when I had got it inflated last.
Just after nine in the morning I was once again on the road holding a deflated wheel. Rani suggested that we should roll it on the road, but I did not succumb to the temptation. The shop was closed, and remained so for about an hour. We sat on the steps of another shop, then talked to the next door butcher, "Bhaiyya, yeh tayar walla kab ayega?", praised the professional approach of the Delhi tayar wallas, shared sweet memories of puncture repair in our yesteryears, drank three glasses of some excellent coffee, spoke to the tayar walla on his cell phone, and waited. Finally the tayar walla arrived, but he decided to attend to an auto walla first who wanted to buy a new tube. So we waited for our turn, and mission accomplished, walked back with the wheel under my arm.
By this time my arms, clothes, legs, etc, were full of the filth that a tyre loves to bite into. Rani decided to serve breakfast, spoonfeeding it, while I divided my time between hushing the dog away and tightening the bolts.
I took half day leave, and was back at the office in the afternoon.
मंगलवार, 14 जुलाई 2009
My Child
I dropped Rani and Smriti, and returned. Just fifteen minutes ago the house resonated with activity. And now, it was barren. Fighting tears, I climbed upstairs to Smriti’s room. The blanket was carelessly tossed on one side. The linen was creased. And, the pillow still had a big dimple on it. I caressed the creases and the dimples, and broke into hysterical sobs. How different is Smriti from an ordinary child! She had to lose an academic year on shifting from Delhi to Bangalore, but did not complain. She did not complain when in spite of securing more than 92% marks in the Class XII exam, her name did not figure in the list of candidates shortlisted for medical education. How enthusiastic she was when she appeared in the Design Entrance examination of Symbiosis, and how gracefully she accepted the fact that in spite of being short listed, she did not make it to the final list. I often saw dreams in her eyes – dreams that twinkled like stars, and dreams that died like wrinkled flowers.
I do not know when I will see her next. But I know, things will not be the same any more. It happens with distance. She will be more formal henceforth. She never demanded anything that she felt I would not be able to provide. Now she will be all the more cautious.
Smriti, my child, I wish you the best! I am not a rich man. What I did not give you far outnumbers what I gave you. But, I gave you my love. I will continue giving it till I breathe my last.
I do not know when I will see her next. But I know, things will not be the same any more. It happens with distance. She will be more formal henceforth. She never demanded anything that she felt I would not be able to provide. Now she will be all the more cautious.
Smriti, my child, I wish you the best! I am not a rich man. What I did not give you far outnumbers what I gave you. But, I gave you my love. I will continue giving it till I breathe my last.
शनिवार, 4 जुलाई 2009
A Hearty Meal
With my stock of dostis exhausted, I had a challenge staring at me yesterday night! I had to either cook rice, or make rotis myself, or buy rotis from a shop and eat.
Sleeping with a belly full of rice was not very appealing. Buying just two rotis appeared a little degrading. Moreover, the rotis around my place are mostly made of maida, and are touched by several hands before reaching the customer.
So, I settled for the second option, deciding to make rotis myself.
Though I am well familiar with the nooks and corners of our kitchen, it was difficult to find the tawa (skillet) and the belan (rolling pin). I spent some time looking for that elusive chakla (board), only to realise that we do not possess one! The work is done on the granite slab.
I took some atta and carefully poured some water over it. Then came the stage when it has to be kneaded. It went off well, though a lot of dough got stuck on my fingers, palm, slab, floor, handle of spoon, tap, etc. It required just a dash of water to become perfect. I added water, and to my horror, the thing turned into a solution. I added some more atta, then some more, and then some more. The dough clung to my hand and made it fit to be shot for a scary movie.
Finally, the dough assumed familiar consistency. I cut lois (small portions), and started using the belan. I am very happy to tell you that all rotis turned out to be circular or squarish, and there were absolutely no triangles or rectangles! Usually our rotis are about five inches in diameter. My rotis were varied. The largest turned out to be ten inches in diameter. They were five in all. Had I not added so much of atta, perhaps the dough would have sufficed for only two rotis.
I ate them with relish. They were a little elastic, but were fresh. I saved one for the dogs.
The performance may be repeated tonight!
Sleeping with a belly full of rice was not very appealing. Buying just two rotis appeared a little degrading. Moreover, the rotis around my place are mostly made of maida, and are touched by several hands before reaching the customer.
So, I settled for the second option, deciding to make rotis myself.
Though I am well familiar with the nooks and corners of our kitchen, it was difficult to find the tawa (skillet) and the belan (rolling pin). I spent some time looking for that elusive chakla (board), only to realise that we do not possess one! The work is done on the granite slab.
I took some atta and carefully poured some water over it. Then came the stage when it has to be kneaded. It went off well, though a lot of dough got stuck on my fingers, palm, slab, floor, handle of spoon, tap, etc. It required just a dash of water to become perfect. I added water, and to my horror, the thing turned into a solution. I added some more atta, then some more, and then some more. The dough clung to my hand and made it fit to be shot for a scary movie.
Finally, the dough assumed familiar consistency. I cut lois (small portions), and started using the belan. I am very happy to tell you that all rotis turned out to be circular or squarish, and there were absolutely no triangles or rectangles! Usually our rotis are about five inches in diameter. My rotis were varied. The largest turned out to be ten inches in diameter. They were five in all. Had I not added so much of atta, perhaps the dough would have sufficed for only two rotis.
I ate them with relish. They were a little elastic, but were fresh. I saved one for the dogs.
The performance may be repeated tonight!
शनिवार, 27 जून 2009
India Comes Last!
It is said that one must think before one acts. If you are America, you can act first and think later. Or, you need not think at all. After all, you are the big brother! You can act and justify your action with afterthoughts, if you deem fit. In the name of establishing world order, you can topple democratically elected governments, indulge into espionage, and keep next door neighbours at loggerheads to maintain your supremacy.
If you are America, you have the right to preach that while Christians can follow varied political beliefs, Muslims all over the world toe a single political line, and therefore your President can deliver a speech to the ‘Muslim world’! Being the ‘Mr Know All’, you can supply loads and loads of deadly weapons and give billions of dollars of monetary help to Pakistan for fighting terrorism, ignoring the warning from your own sleuths that these are used by the Pakistani army against India and not against terrorists. You can do an encore of the mid sixties, when you supported Pakistan in a similar manner and supplied rotten food grain to India. You can even walk a step further, and suggest De-Militarised Zones on both sides of the Indo-Pak border, knowing fully well that it would increase infiltration of terrorists into India.
And while you take steps that spell doom for India’s security and prosperity, you need not worry about any retaliation from India (not that you ever cared about it!). With so many assembly elections lined up, the ruling UPA is in no mood to waste its time on such issues. The right leaning NDA is too busy in mudslinging over the loss of power that it had so cosily got accustomed to. And, the trigger happy left front, who is quick to call a bandh and damage public property at the drop of a hat, is busy trying to figure out how to contain Mamata Banerjee who threatens to upset its bastion in West Bengal.
Concerns for India come last.
If you are America, you have the right to preach that while Christians can follow varied political beliefs, Muslims all over the world toe a single political line, and therefore your President can deliver a speech to the ‘Muslim world’! Being the ‘Mr Know All’, you can supply loads and loads of deadly weapons and give billions of dollars of monetary help to Pakistan for fighting terrorism, ignoring the warning from your own sleuths that these are used by the Pakistani army against India and not against terrorists. You can do an encore of the mid sixties, when you supported Pakistan in a similar manner and supplied rotten food grain to India. You can even walk a step further, and suggest De-Militarised Zones on both sides of the Indo-Pak border, knowing fully well that it would increase infiltration of terrorists into India.
And while you take steps that spell doom for India’s security and prosperity, you need not worry about any retaliation from India (not that you ever cared about it!). With so many assembly elections lined up, the ruling UPA is in no mood to waste its time on such issues. The right leaning NDA is too busy in mudslinging over the loss of power that it had so cosily got accustomed to. And, the trigger happy left front, who is quick to call a bandh and damage public property at the drop of a hat, is busy trying to figure out how to contain Mamata Banerjee who threatens to upset its bastion in West Bengal.
Concerns for India come last.
शनिवार, 20 जून 2009
Towards A Strong India
All sorts of reservation policies are tried in our nation. There is reservation for employment, reservation for admission to institutes of higher education, reservation for membership of a parliament seat, reservation for eligibility on accommodation in the train, etc., etc.
Scheduled castes, scheduled tribes, backward classes, women, residents of a particular state, poor, all are supposed to get the benefit of reservation. Discrimination based on gender, caste, economic status, domicile, religion, etc., is expected to vanish with adaptation of the reservation policy.
The fact is, in spite of living half a century with reservation, discrimination stares at us from all angles. It is exploited by different people for different selfish reasons. We still have untouchables who cannot draw water from a well. We have violence against Indians because they moved out of their state. We still have poor dying of hunger.
We are in this state because we are still not aware. We are still not educated. Specially the women, the architects of society. I wonder why India cannot have a much more liberal reservation policy for education? Why cannot we have hundred per cent reservation for education? Let every Indian, be she or he of any caste, religion, economic group, and state, have a seat reserved in a school, in a college, in an institute of higher learning. If we do not have enough resources to fund education for all, let us obtain it through a penalty on all bundhs and activities of damage to public property and peace.
Unless we take a revolutionary step in educating ourselves, we will not be able to build a strong India.
Scheduled castes, scheduled tribes, backward classes, women, residents of a particular state, poor, all are supposed to get the benefit of reservation. Discrimination based on gender, caste, economic status, domicile, religion, etc., is expected to vanish with adaptation of the reservation policy.
The fact is, in spite of living half a century with reservation, discrimination stares at us from all angles. It is exploited by different people for different selfish reasons. We still have untouchables who cannot draw water from a well. We have violence against Indians because they moved out of their state. We still have poor dying of hunger.
We are in this state because we are still not aware. We are still not educated. Specially the women, the architects of society. I wonder why India cannot have a much more liberal reservation policy for education? Why cannot we have hundred per cent reservation for education? Let every Indian, be she or he of any caste, religion, economic group, and state, have a seat reserved in a school, in a college, in an institute of higher learning. If we do not have enough resources to fund education for all, let us obtain it through a penalty on all bundhs and activities of damage to public property and peace.
Unless we take a revolutionary step in educating ourselves, we will not be able to build a strong India.
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