DESTINED TO BURY A DEAD BIRD !!

Last Saturday for me and my friend, was a working Day,

It was hot Chennai afternoon, though it wasn’t May.

We got out of the cab, profusely Sweating

and rushed to our cubicle, literally Cursing.

As we tested the application tirelessly, in that room filled with hot Air,

My friend said,” Let’s get out of here and have lunch, this is very Unfair”

We forced the tasteless Saturday food down our Throats.

I asked my friend, “Do we look like Goats?”

We got out of cafeteria to be greeted by angry hot Sun

A few meters away, on the compound we saw a bird, dead One.

We passed by, but I couldn’t get it out of my Mind.

I said,” C’mon we can’t be this Blind.”

So we went to pantry and got a paper Cup.

I carefully lifted the bird and placed it in, with its Head up.

We walked around the smoking zone, looking for a shady, marshy Land.

So that we could burry this lifeless, small and light bird with our Hand.

My friend dug up a hole and I looked around the unusually, silent Place.

I wondered, if someone dear to bird was watching us with a vivid Gaze.

We buried the bird and placed a Flower.

“May your soul rest in peace and your loved ones would miss you Forever.”

As we sat back on our seats, I wondered what could have killed that bird this Neat?

Was it a suicide, the heat or the intrusion of the human Beast?

Whatever the reason was, I said

“We were destined to bury a Bird.

This Saturday in office was therefore more than just test case’s in excel and Word.”

-------- RAJ

“THERE’S NO MORE FUN , YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

HE SAID, “THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

She said, “

My dad was struggling hard to keep his emotions at Bay,

my mom had tears rolling down all the Way.

My little brother had hugged me and wouldn’t let me Go,

but I left them all because I thought from today, it is you whom I got to Know.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

You go out of home at morning 8,

And return at midnight and very Late.

I come home early, to spend time with You,

But end up talking to loneliness, which is no more New.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

I come home tired but still cook delicious food and wait for you to come for Dinner,

because I feel like talking to you and making your life much Easier.

But you don’t let me know that you will be Late,

I would almost always doze off on the sofa or table, tired after all the Wait.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

Sometimes you come home very Drunk,

Shouting, screaming and calling me Junk.

I remove you shoes, and carefully put you on Bed,

Even though you murmur that you would like me to see Dead.

And you say,

“THERE IS NO MORE FUN,

YOU ARE NOT THE ONE”

Now, tears were overflowing from the dam he maintained in his Eyes,

He knew that he was a cruel beast and it wasn’t all Nice.

He fell on his knees and his head tilted down overburdened with shame,

Because he knew that its time to take all the Blame.

“Sorry, now, would be such a shameless thing to Say,

Because I know I have damaged your lovely heart in a great Way.”

With his hands folded as if he was begging for Mercy,

His eyes meet her’s like the horizon and the deep blue Sea.

“There is no fun, without You,

Please I beg you to help me to start all New.

I was such a jerk to say, you were not the One,

Please give me a final chance or you may shoot me with a point blank Gun.”

Listening to this, I think the river in her heart was overflowing with forgiveness,

She helped him to his feet and hugged him with that child like innocence.

Note:

For all those who take her love for Granted,

Believe me or not, she is your strength, without her you are Unwanted.

------ RAJ

A LOVE STORY IN BUS N32

Everyday I stood there at 8,

In formals and Straight.

I would wait for my bus N32,

If you don’t have a pass, the driver would ask,” Where 2?”

Most of the day’s she would pass by Me,

I knew, some day for her, I would fall on my Knee.

She was very pretty, beautiful and Sweet,

Drops of sweat would run down my face, I bet it was because of her and the Chennai Heat.

Her eyes were the prettiest of All,

Something that reminds me of my niece Barbie Doll.

She would look gorgeous on days when she wore Pink,

Now, I must admit, this is what made me a poet with the paper and Ink.

One beautiful day, as I got into bus N32,

I was surprised to look at her on seat number 2.

My eyes went red, white and Blue,

I could only hope that she got a Clue.

Next day I mustered all my confidence and Energy,

Asked her, “Can I sit here?” with perfect Synergy.

I guess she thought I was something like that boy on wrapper of Parle-G.

She said, “Oh? Sure.”

But I thought I heard, “Yes, my Dear!!”

I asked her out on a date,

She said, “How about breakfast? I can’t Wait.”

So, my first date was in cafeteria,

I don’t remember what I said I had, malaria, diarrhea or Lovearia.

Anyway, next few days N32 was the most cheerful Bus,

We spoke about politics, roads, people, work but nothing about my Crush.

Many a time’s I thought I got to tell her how much I liked her Here,

But it reminded me of the betrayal in the movie Primal Fear.

One day, she said smilingly and sweetly, “Finally, I am getting Married.”

I heard something inside me, thought it was my heart which just got Buried.

I looked into her eyes with an innocent and blank Face,

Consoled my heart with words like, “someone beat me in the Race.”

My eyes were damp, tears rolled down my Face,

But hey I couldn’t have cried, then what is this Maze?

I wiped my eyes, to see my mom with a half bucket Water and a Gaze,

The other half I knew was what on my Face.

Mom said, “You idiot stupid. Who is that Girl?”

I thought, “Am I still dreaming?” and said “mom, what Pearl?”

She said, “Get out of the bed, there is a GIRL waiting for you in the Hall.”

I ran my figures across my hair and rushed to the hall almost missing the Wall.

I saw a girl looking out of the Window,

“Hi, you will not find me there” said I, which sounded like a Kiddo.

She turned around to face Me.

I fainted screaming, “Oh my God, someone help Me”

NOTE :

Dedicated to all those who snore loudly in the Bus

Just to let you know that there are possibilities plenty and Enough.

OUTSOURCING E-WASTE or MAKING INDIA A CHEAP DUMP YARD ?

Alright, who is wrong here? You are dumping the garbage in your neighbor’s house or your neighbors who allows you to dump the garbage because they get paid for it.

If you ask me, both are equally at fault. But what about those innocents who are not aware of the consequences of staying with these dumps? They are the people who face the music for this idiotic act of some one else.



We all, at least most of them who cared, know about the French flag ship Clemenceau which was supposed to come into Alang ship breaking yard in Gujarat, to be dismantled. It was decommissioned from service many years ago This ship was full of asbestos (around 40-50 tonnes), PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyls), TBT (tributyltin), lead, mercury and other toxic chemicals, which France and no other European country was willing to or able to scrap due to expensive environmental costs.



Then why do the Government of France sends it off to India to be broken in a scrap yard where impoverished workers are injured and die every day due to various occupational health hazards?



I will tell you why? Strange it might sound but, few Indain’s sold their soul along with the lives of innocent thousands for some quick money. Now, can you believe that the government which on one hand talks about Global Warming, Environment and all b*** s*** sold their people for colored papers with some thick head printed on it. The Indian company had bought it and the union government supported it.



The workers who dismantle these very hazardous materials do it without any kind of protective clothing’s and very soon one out of the three land up with a cancer or die due to mishaps during the process. In addition to this, the worst part is that they aren’t covered under any labor benefits. I mean we understand that the workers are knowledgeable enough to know these things, yet they do it because surviving for just one more day is their only criteria. But isn’t it the duty of the government and these companies to stop preying on these people’s weakness?



The irony in fact is that, it was the Greenpeace and other three anti-asbestos groups which raised their voices against this movement and Indians were kept in dark until supreme court intervened.



On Saturday, as usual I was having a quick scan of the news paper when my eyes caught hold of this headlines, “Urban waste ‘imported’ from U.S. to be shipped back”



Three containers carrying URBAN waste arrived at the Kochi Port from the United States in the first week of October. Exactly what is this urban waste ? It means, 40 % of the 60 tones of the consignment contains plastic, glass, metal, cartridges of photocopying machines, food waste and gloves.



Now, it’s a shame that these developed nation’s brag about being technically advanced and superior but cannot fix their own waste. Instead they outsource it to the third world countries because it works out cheap. In other worlds what they mean is that, “The value of life in Developing and under developed nations is doesn’t weigh much compared to the life of their own people.” A real shame.



I will tell what’s even more painful. The consignments are had been brought to Kochi by selling the lives of our people for $130 a tonne. Our own traders are importing these materials for money. If I was given a choice then, I would have brought out a rule to have at least one of the close loved relative’s of these trader’s to work with those workers who survive only to die tomorrow. Then and only then, they would realize the value of life.



The developed nations who always boast about their superiority should realize that instead of dumping their waste on the lives of the million poor, they should find out the way to manage it at the source itself where it is manufactured. Every product manufactured, instead of filing for patent to copyright should also have a solid method to dispose their products safely after the life time of their products. This holds good to our nation as well.



We as a rapidly developing nations would not remain the same for long and before we start dumping our waste on someone else, lets set an example by designing a very effective, efficient and safe waste disposable system.

One of my friend commented, "Its really hard to imagine or face the grime realities of life. I hope we as collective force can do something about this. Like sign an online petition, arrange road rokos, spread awareness or file an RTI demanding an explanation for these acts from the Government. "

I agree that we could make a difference by raising our concern but the only problem that I see is that, the magnitude and the frequency of issues is so much that our life time will be spent on only in fighting these causes.


For example the Jessica Lal case received so much publicity but on the other hand there are millions who are still suffering judicial betrayal. I mean it would be almost be impossible to give the same amount of publicity to all.



Now, currently we have become intelligent enough to realize this and hence we create a general body which for example the Green Peace Activists who have an agenda and a common cause. One of its committee fights against all these instances and the other is responsible for creating the general awareness among people about what they do. Now both of these are equally important but I guess we need to fight the root cause, you know.
These waste materials that was being dumped since many years in Kerala was creating all kind of environmental issues. Though late, the Kerala govt. did well to stop it. However, all said and done, they fail to execute it because some how, some where, some one would know how to beat the system.

 

“Lets respect the value of the everyone’s LIFE. It’s price less.”

My First Experience as, THE SCRIBE !!

3 days back, on Friday I received a forwarded email from my collegue. The email clearly stated that it required a scribe for the visually challenged student’s exam. I wasn’t sure what scribe meant so as usual like 99 % of the software professionals I opened the internet explorer and google.




So now that I knew what scribe is all about, the next option was to choose to be one or not to be one. I didn’t have any problem with the timings because our work at office starts at 2pm so I could catch our cab somewhere in Adyar, I thought. Anyway, I was apprehensive about being a scribe because I had no experience at all with this and moreover I didn’t want to mess up someone’s exam.



But my theory “interested in everything and committed to nothing” was at stake. So took a plunge. I replied back to Suchithra Ramaswamy stating that I would be available at any of the mentioned dates provided she was willing to share her experience as a scribe and that I could catch my cab in time so as to come to office.



Now, it would be unfair on my part if I don’t give you a glimse of this amazing person with a beautiful and strong heart I guess. Strong? Yeah I will let you know in some time. I haven’t meet her personally but we did have few emails flying In and Out of Box’s interestingly placed in Outlook. Also, I did have a look into her blog. Now, isnt that too much? No it isnt. I am just interested in everything you see. Alright. This wonderful person has initiated many beautiful projects. Now I call it beautiful projects because it’s got something to do with bonding hearts and making this world a better place for everyone. Pay the Fee’s Campaign is something which I guess, she is proud off because in her blog she quotes : “Pay the Fees Campaign 2007 happens to be the most successful campaign I have done all my life. Once I knew where my heart was set the going was so much easier. This was one spending I wont regret all my life.” It was the campaign started to initiate a fund raiser for deserving kids who could not afford to pay fees for their studies. Now to know why I call her strong, you got to read her post, Blood Donation – My Story J



So, now that I have shared my interest to be a scribe, I waited for the reply, which I get in no time. She told me that she required people who could write tamil because their was an immense requirement but limited volunteers. But she had blocked my name so that I could be a scribe when the requirement arises. I was thankful for that and continued with my weekend weird story which of coarse I would not wish to share.



So on Monday I get this email with my name mapped to a visually challenged student whom I would assist in writing exam by lending my ears, eyes and hands which could write English, for sometime. To be frank, I don’t want to get too emotional with things, so I was happy enough to spend my half day as scribe outside of my room. I was happy enough to gain this experience and was happy enough to know that I could make this world a better place and share it with all. So, I replied to this email letting her know that I would be glad and am excited.



Now, finding addresses and reaching at RIGHT time is something which people don’t associate with me, especially when I am in a new city. However I try to make up for this good quality of mine by landing at this location a day ahead. I mean, at least 2 hours a head of RIGHT time. So again I do a google search to find the Queens Mary College. I get to know that it’s a girls college, so I think, being a scribe isnt that bad u know. Anyway, jokes apart. I leave my house at 7:30 and take a shared auto ( I had christened it shatadoor for some weird reasons when I was new to the city. But that would take another post.) to thriuvanmiyur bus depo. I get into wrong bus and get almost kicked out of it by the grumbling conductor( I hate those men in blue. Will let you know why ). So, next time without mistake I double check that I have got into the right bus and it goes to the right destination. I again get that grumbling from conductor for repeatedly asking the same question in different tones. One of the many good souls like me over there in the bus asked me to get down one stop after light house and then I was there. Time 8:15. Almost, 1hr 15 minutes before time. Gosh, I thought I would never ever get the RIGHT time, I thought.



Well, now I needed to search this college. But I used my super charged brain to follow the girls who had got down the same bus because somehow I guessed they were going to the same college. One of the girl in the group starred back at me as if I was really following them for reasons other than the one I had in my mind. So, gauging the unnecessary trouble that I would invite, I moved ahead of them hoping to cite the college by myself. So there was it. A man in his 50’s at the gate was having his breakfast. I couldn’t stop gazing at the white iddli’s and sambar. He didn’t look like a security guard so he must be a watchman, yeah the one’s who just watch and watch and yeah you got it. So called me and enquired ‘enna venu’. It’s been a year now in Chennai, so I could understand few basic tamil words and could efficiently guess the rest of the words spoken based on pure mathematics which I hate to explain.



“Err… blind… scribe..venu……. Me… exam…where?” is what I heard myself speak but some how I knew he was gonna bang me out of the gate. Miraculously, he understood what I said and I was happy about my new communication skill. I call it tamilish. Anyway, he lifted his right hand to point towards the temple. Arre, he was a lefty yar, remember he was eating breakfast?



So, I went near the temple. I saw many people, err girls I must confess reading as if its goona be the end of the world and only a word in that book if pronounced properly in right time could save the world.. It reminded me of my days in +2, of coarse not engineering. I meet this guy from Andra. He was as confused as me. So, as the saying goes, two confused make up a good company of entertainment. I learnt that he was there as a scribe for the first time as well and was looking for his person. Finally a lady arrived from a group of students sitting on the bench just a feet away from us and asked us if we were scribes and the names that we are supposed to write the exams for. I was wondering how blind we were. I mean all the girls on that bench were blinds and they were having their fingers on this braille script on the yellow pages or some fat book, studying. We couldn’t figure that out from a feet distance. How blind can you get, aint it. The lady told us that she heard what we spoke and thereby wanted to help us out to find the respective person. I wondered how sharp her ears were because she was partially blind as well.



I got to know who I am writing the exam for and THEY LEAD us to this place were we get the question papers. Along with these blinds there were others who could see and who would write the same exam. The teachers in their typical dictatorship style asked everyone to fall in line and they asked them to sit under the shade of the tree. We watched this from some distance. I thought then, that it was some kind of drill or something but guess what. They distributed question papers and asked to write exams. I had mixed emotions, obviously confusing me. I mean, I was happy that they have the opportunity to learn and write exams when millions of those don’t have this opportunity but on the other hand they didn’t have the basic facility of a desk or a classroom for that matter to sit and write exam without distraction.



They collected their question papers and came to us. We selected a place. Pushed and dusted some of the broken desk and chairs and started with the scribe business. The desk had an unequal leg so I was almost doing a see saw, but it was fun. Technically, there is nothing that you need to experience in order to be a scribe. Technically, all that you need is the ability to read and write neatly in the language specified in the question paper. Non Technically, you need a beautiful heart. I hope you get the funda.



Half way through the exam a teacher comes in with a strong voice she said, “Are you girls from 2nd year English literature class”. The girls replied positively in unison. “Your teacher told me that you have done very well in your last exam.” I saw few blushing and heads beaming with pride. The teacher continued, “So your teacher is doubtful about it. Have you girls given notes to the scribe or have the scribes used their own knowledge to assist the students?” I was shell shocked and so were the students. I mean, you don’t have the basic facility here. I know that these students are visually challenged and may be fighting even more challenges in their home and here is a teacher who doubts them for doing well in exam. I think my fellow scribe got really irritated by this stupid act and he said, “Ma’am I don’t think anyone of us could read Braille script here even if they had given the scribes the notes”. The teacher asked for it, I thoguht. I think she knew it was stupid of her so she said, “ very well then. But meet this teacher of yours before leaving alright?” and she left.



All these girls were staring at each other with little of disappointment on their face. For a second I thought they could see. What I could see was their disappointment because they told us that they had studied very well and if the admin was really doubtful about it then they could have placed a person to monitor during exam. Well, there is no room, no desk, no water near by to drink, how could they afford a person to sit and monitor, I thought. We finished the exam real quick in 2 hours. But I was happy they couldn’t beat me in that. My all time record was 1 min. I am sure someone would have broken it by now. It was English literature and all were bouncers for me. You would have realized that by now. It was all about Shakespeare and Milton all the way back to 1100.



I wished her good luck and told her that I learnt a lot today from the time I woke up to this very moment. I thanked her for that and waited for my friend or colleague from GMR, Arjun to complete the paper and join me. We left the place in no time as it was very VERY hot. And wondered, instead of sweat if it was blood that was flowing out of me then I would have died million times by then due to lack of blood. Since it was too early to catch the cab for me, we got into the bus to thiruvanmiyur. As I sat next to the window looking at the vast stretch of marina, I thought how wonderful and interesting life could be if and only if we could get the shoes on and step out of our home into the beautiful world of unknown yet beautiful possibilities. A gush of cool breeze blew right on my face as if it agreed with me.

“Be THE SCRIBE. After all, The BEST you can offer them is not the money, it’s your TIME.”

“The Man, The Hell, The Life, and His Journey through the Bad yet Beautiful World written in Blood, Tears and Love - SHANTARAM.”

“Why did you stop here?” I asked my friend, as he parked his pulsar next to the atm.



“I got to get some money”, he said.






I stood next to the bike gazing at the book seller on the street. I had a quick look at the books, neatly placed, but wasn’t interested to know the titles. I hated books. I thought, reading a book was one of those things done by the lazy and it didn’t fit me.






My friend comes back, pushing his wallet down the pocket.


“Hey you got nice books here.”, and he moves to the stall. I followed him, uninterested but helpless.






He picks up this huge book which could easily kill an average man or a woman for that matter, with a single blow on head.


“Alright, man. Now you don’t tell me you are gonna buy one of those WMD’s ( weapon of mind destruction.” I said, with bit of sarcasm in my voice.






He gave me a stare, and then looked back at the book. He raised his head to look at me and said, “What do you know about this book?” There was something strange in his voice. It was a mixture of anger and something more to it. I knew he was hurt. I didn’t speak.






We got on bike and rode off. I broke the silence, “What was that?”






“What? The book?” he asked.


“Yes. What’s it?” I enquired to know more.






“It’s a book that I hold close to my heart. It’s a combination of all the religious book’s that people follow. It’s the book about you, me and them and life.” He said and kept quite. I guess he wanted to speak more but he couldn’t find any point in speaking about a book to ME. What he didn’t know is that, I was gonna buy the exact same book three months down the line.






Yes. I thought, for every individual, a day comes when he or she will do exactly what he had thought he wouldn’t or couldn’t do in the life time. This was my day.






I was pretty much bored with myself, work and life though I didn’t have any reason to say so because nothing was wrong. Its just one of those weeks or months that happens to everyone when everything seems to be just still and motionless.






There were million question’s which couldn’t be answered which were chewing on my brains or may be heart, I don’t know. To understand this difference in itself, was a big question.






I read few quick books. “ Anything for you ma’am – Tushar Raheja” , “Five point someone – Chetan Bhagat” and “One night at call center by the same author.”






I liked them. Especially, One night at call center. I really loved the concept of call from God and following your heart. I had got few answers, but not all and not very clear. I couldn’t believe that book’s could answer anyway.






I looked at this fat book which I had named, WMD few months back. The words of my friend recoiled in my head. I still wasn’t sure I could read it, but I think my friend’s words got the better of my conscious and I opened the book without knowing how it would inspire and answer me.


“It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realized, somehow, through the screaming of my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is an universe of possibility. And the choice you make between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.”


When the first page fires at you like that, its hard to put the book down. The weight of , almost 950 page book doesn’t bother you, no matter how long you hold it. You will just drift in to the ocean of real life experiences.






Gregory David Roberts, the man whose real life experience is such that it may not change your life but would surely beg you to look at the life for the second time, more clearly and more lovingly. The man who had dawned more than two names and meet incredibly strong and varied characters in his extremely thrilling real life adventure, painful and soulful life.






In the early 80s, Gregory David Roberts, an armed robber and heroin addict, escaped from an Australian high security prison to India, where he lived in a Bombay slum. There, he established a free health clinic and also joined the mafia, working as a money launderer, forger and street soldier. He found time to learn Hindi and Marathi, fall in love, and spend time being worked over in an Indian jail were he almost lost his life for the nth time.






Then, in case anyone thought he was slacking, he acted in Bollywood and fought with the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan. Soon he finds all the people whom he loved die one after another next to him.


Amazingly, Roberts wrote this three times after prison guards trashed the first two versions. It's a profound tribute to his willpower… At once a high-kicking, eye-gouging adventure, a love saga and a savage yet tenderly lyrical fugitive vision.






Shantaram, is the book and also one his many names. I am sure Gregory has written this with great passion and love. It couldn’t be better. And I am thankful to him for sharing his experience and my fate for letting this book slip into my hands. I am also eagerly waiting for the movie to be released(2008) which is in the production phase, rights owned by Johnny Depp, himself acting along with Amitabh, directed by Mira Nair.






I leave you with few of my favorite learning’s from the man and the characters that revolve around him in this cruel but true, thrilling yet beautiful journey.


“Justice is a judgment that is both fair and forgiving. Justice is not done until everyone is satisfied, even those who offend us and must be punished by us.”


“When the wish and the dream are exactly the same, we call that dream, a nightmare.”


“Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything but tears. In the end that’s all there is : Love and its duty, Sorrow and its truth. In the end that’s all we have to hold on tight until the dawn.”


“Prisons are the temples where devils learn to prey. Every time we turn the key we twist the knife of fate, because every time we cage a man we close him in with hate.”


“I remembered on of those Khaderbahi’s favorite phrases. Every human heart beat, he’d said many times, is a universe of possibilities. And it seemed to me that I finally understood exactly what he’d meant. He’d been trying to tell me thatevery human will had the power to transform its fate. I’d always thought that fate was something unchangeable, fixed for everyone of us at birth and as constant as the circuit of the stars. But I suddenly realized that life is stranger and more beautiful than that. The truth is that no matter what kind of game you find yourself in, no matter how good or bad the week, you can change your life completely with a single thought, or a single act of love.”


“Truth is a bully that we all pretend to like.”


“I don’t know what frightens me more, the power that crushes us, or our endless ability to endure it.”


“Some of the worst wrongs were caused by people who tried to change things.”


“It's forgiveness that makes us what we are. Without forgiveness, our species would've annihilated itself in endless retributions. Without forgiveness, there would be no history. Without that hope, there would be no art, for every work of art is in some way an act of forgiveness. Without that dream, there would be no love, for every act of love is in some way a promise to forgive. We live on because we can love, and we love because we can forgive.”


“One of the ironies of courage and why we prize it so highly, is that we find it easier to be brave for someone else than we do for ourselves alone.”


Happiness is a myth. it was invented to make us buy things


“Nothing in any life, no matter how well or poorly lived, is wiser than failure or clearer than sorrow. And in the tiny precious wisdom they give to us, even those dreaded and hated enemies, suffering and failure, have their reason and their right to be.”


“Luck is what happens to you when fate gets tired of waiting.”


And finally the book ends with this leaving you totally mesmerized if you did allow yourself to be,


“For this is what we do. Put one foot forward and then the other. Life our eyes to the snarl and smile of the world once more. Think. Act. Feel. Add our little consequences to the tides of the good and evil that flood and drain the world. Drag our shadowed crosses into the hope of another night. Push our brave hearts into the promise of the new day. With love : the passionate search for a truth other than our own. With longing : the pure, ineffable yearning to be saved for so long as fate keeps waiting, we live on. God help us. God forgive us. We live on.”


Here is SHANTARAM by one of those lucky who found him at the Leopold’s – the bar which became famous after shataram was published.

God help us. God forgive us. We live on

“INDIA WON T20, WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?” - Screwed up Equations

My first bat was a typical plastic made pale yellow colored. I don’t exactly remember how I got it but I was happy to hit that red plastic ball around. When the bat strikes this hard plastic ball it makes that amazing sound “tok”. I just loved it. I love it even today.



I never had many friends then who shared the same interest. So I would hit the ball against the wall with the bat and go on doing it until I was tired or until my mom would come running with the stick in her hand.






I watched cricket ( though I could hardly pronounce it) but could never understand anything other than the concept of bat and the ball which needs to be hit as far as possible.






After few years, I still watched cricket. I now knew what an over meant and what was a no ball, wide, six and four. The plastic bat was replaced with a wooden, half broken small bat and the rubber ball, the one with the sign of elephant on it( I think it was a mascot of something). I still didn’t have good number of friends who took cricket seriously as I did. They played for fun but I wanted to improve as if I was born only to play cricket. Not that I wanted to be Sachin or someone. I couldn’t recognize them anyway. I just loved the game. The bat hitting the ball and that sound which has now changed from “tok” to “phot” just filled me with joy. When the ball broke, it was the saddest day for me. I still was hitting the walls and sketching the modern art. My mother? She still ran behind me with the stick. May be this time it was a bit longer, for extra reach because I could run quite fast now.






Anyway, fast forward to few more years. I knew how to pronounce cricket and spell it right all the ten times. The half broken bat was replaced with a bat made from the branch of the coconut tree. It was still with rubber ball which smelt yuk when it broke, but never mind since it went flying for fours and sixes with little effort. I used to watch each and every match available on door darshan. I enjoyed playing the game compared to watching. We had 45 minutes of lunch break at school. But It was a sin according to me to waste the precious time in eating food. Cricket was the priority. We would wait in the queue to get the cricket set and n then play our hearts out at 12 under the sun which never seemed to be hot enough. The sweat was no longer irritating. It was so much fun. When India won matches we would celebrate. We would play for 2 hours extra and when we played we used to think of the moments in cricket and try to emulate and gain some confidence. It was more than game.






Few years later when I moved to college the level of my cricket has changed from school friends to the local sports club and with lot of talented players. I knew I was not a serious cricketer in terms of playing with the regular ball of 5.5 ounce and with all helmets, pads and stuff. Simply because I couldn’t afford to do that at that time. As 90 % of the Indians, I too had to choose between the sports or studies. With very less support at home, you really don’t have much of choice. Anyway no regrets. I enjoyed what I was doing and I am happy about the choices I made, also am thankful to people around me then. We never missed cricket. Rubber ball was now replaced with cosco’s. We had pretty good bat to play with. I was the opening batsman of our college science stream. It was no less than being a opener of national team. The spirit with which we played matches was equivalent to any international match or perhaps more than it. We still loved what we did “ Playing cricket” and nothing else. I had many friends now, both in college and in sports club. Many of them I would have never meet if it wasn’t cricket. Some of the friends went on to be my best friends who consider me to be brother till date and will love me for ever. The confidence which I gained by playing cricket , rubbed to my studies as well. We excelled when it mattered the most.






Fast forward to date. We are into corporate world now. The world which weighs everything to $ $MONEY $$$. No matter what I say , a group of people think that they can equate even the shit to money. The more time they take to do that, the more money they loose. So they go on with their stuff, spraying their deadly perfume everywhere to everyone. Now don’t take that thing literally. I am just mad as I right this blog, so I couldn’t get anything better and good to compare them with.






24th September 2007 is a special day to me and to all the Indians. India won T20 world cup. The adrenalin rush, the temper, the excitement on that day couldn’t be compared to anything on that day. It was festival. Yes, it was a festival belonging to no religion, no caste. You could celebrate even if you didn’t have 1 rupee in pocket. This was a festival was celebrated in a way that could probably compared with the day of independence back then on that day when all got together. The winners were rightly rewarded.






There was one man whom I knew had a gloomy face. I was over the moon and with my over joyous face I asked him “ Did you watch the match?”






“No, whats there. I think India won. People are celebrating. What big deal?”






“ what do you mean? It is a big deal. We won it.”






“Yeah. But what did you get? In 1983 also we had won. All Gavaskars and teams are now very rich. What did we get?”






“ What the hell are you talking man? Its not about money. Its more than that.”






“It is about money.”






At this moment, I felt like slapping him but could manage to tell the ‘F’ word and ignored him. He was not in my heart and now he is out of my mind as well. Hopefully I will get out of his sight in a month as well.






Anyway. What do we do with such kind of looser? A pain in this world.






Yesterday I received this email which had a link to cricketnext and which had animated video which showed shahrukh and the Indian team in womens hockey dress. The animation is horrible. I don’t understand why cricketnext who are a cricket lovers have put up this animation.






I shot an email back to this friend of mine telling him that this is bad and horrible.


He replies “No it’s good. I liked it…… and I hate SRK,… he sucks big time….. may be u like him that’y y sucha reaction…..????”


So I relied “IDIOT, I m not talking abt SRK.. I m talking abt Indian criketers made to wear skirts n play hockey.. it’s a shame that these people who have contributed so much to the game and you give them these bulls shit.. its pathetic…”


For which I got a shocker “Well, what have the Indian cricketers done gr8 by winning? All they’ve done is lacks n crores of rupees for themselves and only resulted in decreasing the productivity of India…. When everybody stops working and sit by the TV….. And all that 6 hours traffic jam that happened in Mumbai for their so called welcome….??? What’s all that crap man??? Aah…!!! And don’t forget the after effects of winning some crazy cup…… Alas……, u only get to see Dhoni n Dhoni n Dhoni in every add… every hoarding…. Any where and every where…..…. wov man give me a break…..!!!! You know what? They have done NOTHING for the country by winning this cup ok….!!!! And what about other sports??? These sportsmen cant even effort to continue plating cos of their financial needs and no body even cares a Shit about them….!!! Well, that’s my opinion on the crazy game….. CRICKET….!!!!! And it woudn’t be worse even if the video was made with them wearing bikinis…….!!!!”


I always wondered why people think happiness is inversely proportional to others happiness or success. What I mean is, why should being happy depend on how much you make compared to your neighbour,sister,brother,husband or wife? Do you really think these cricketer haven’t done anything to the country?






Well, I think that cricket is one thing that binds this madly diverse nation. How the hell do you think we could have sustained this diversity for such a long time. Other nations cant even do with one uncommon thing. It creates communal volience there. But in India percentage vice we are more united considering the diversity.






Cricket as I said dissolves the boundaries in hearts. It brings together people. I mean wouldn’t you be proud to tell the world that we are T 20 world champions. Or wouldn’t you be proud to tell someone in Korea or Japan that we are the Asian hockey champions.






I could see people hugging each other, distributing sweets irrespective of what they spoke and whom they worshipped. I know it might fade away in time. But atleast for this moment lets enjoy this. Its better than busting bombs and spraying bullets.






Now isnt it fair enough to reward the people responsible for all this appropriately? Indian team irrespective of cricket or hockey ,deserves it. They have dissolved many barriers with their victory.. They have given people the hope that, its not the mighty that wins, it’s the hunger, hard work, patience, perseverance, tolerance that wins hearts and spreads love.


Love you all. May the sanity, optimism, love prevail. And please don’t forget that “ Human emotions cannot ever be equated to money”


-Jai Hindh

ENOUGH OF PATRIOTISM !! - Citizen of the WORLD

Just as we approach India’s 60th Independence Day celebrations, I wonder if Patriotism is just enough. Firstly, “What’s patriotism?”



A lot of times I have wondered about the answer to this question . I have had a lot of arguments with some of my friends about this topic. Some of them believed that Patriotism very much exists while others just thought it was nothing but which is worth remembering once in 4 years and cheer for men in blue.






Is patriotism all about just singing your national anthem, and supporting your country in sports?What exactly is the definition of this word?


Wikipedia defines it as this:Patriotism denotes positive attitudes by a individuals to their own nation, to its national homeland, its culture, its members, and to its interests. The word is derived from the Latin patria, fatherland, which has a much broader meaning than a geographical territory.Dictionary definition of a nation is something along the lines of “love of country and willingness to sacrifice for it”So as we see, both these definitions involve the concept of a “Nation”…


Now my doubt in the definition of Patriotism first lies in the definition of Nation.


Wiki says here that:


One of the most influential doctrines in history is that all humans are divided into groups called nations. It is an ethical and philosophical doctrine in itself, and is the starting point for the ideology of nationalism. The nationals (the members of the “nation”) are distinguished by a common identity, and almost always by a common origin, in the sense of ancestry, parentage or descent. The national identity refers both to the distinguishing features of the group, and to the individual’s sense of belonging to it. A very wide range of criteria is used, with very different application. Small differences in pronunciation may be enough to categorise someone as a member of another nation. On the other hand, two people may be separated by difference in personalities, belief systems, geographical locations, time and even spoken language, yet regard themselves and be seen by others, as members of the same nation. Nationals are considered to share certain traits and norms of behaviour, certain duties toward other members, and certain responsibilities for the actions of the members of the same nation.So we see that there is a mention of a “Common Link” among the members of a nation. Now I can understand this quite easily if I am a citizen of a country that is as small as, lets say Iceland.On the lighter side, My great grandfather was perhaps a viking and viking blood might in fact flow in me as well .


But what if I am the citizen of USA or India for that matter. The whole country is made up of so many different cultures, so many different people and so many different languages that the above definition would surely not encompass such nations. A tamilian is ENTIRELY different in his way of life and looks and language from an Assamese. No way are they related.


So my question is this, “Does it really make sense to call the Tamilian and an Assamese as belonging to the same nation”?


I donot want to hurt any sentiments by asking these questions, but it is just that I am personally not convinced about the fact, that someone somewhere decided “Ok, so let us take this geographical mass , and call it a country”…and Lo , we have India.


If such diversity could still call itself one nation, then why not we include the whole world into one spectrum and be done with a world Nation.


Atleast some Indians could say they are related by the Indus Valley civilisation and that they all have some kind of a common ancestry. But what of the USA. They have Red Indians who are their actual natives. They have Great grandsons and daughters of British settlers, African slave’s laborers, Chinese merchants, Indian Software programmers, Indian doctors, Indian Scientists and what not?


Now does it even make sense to call such a diverse mix as having anything in common? They don’t even have a common ancestry for that matter.


The greatest comedy about the whole thing is that a huge mass in this world goes about their daily duties without even perhaps realizing that they have a false identity. When someone says “I am a citizen of such and such country”, does he realize that that piece of land has until now seen at least a 1000 different rulers, and a 1000 different languages and cultures since the time Man was born.


Let us take India for example:


If we say common ancestry as the unifying factor, then we ought to have Pakistan United with us…should we not? Why then do many of us have an ill feeling towards them?


In an England Pakistan match, why do we rather feel better if England wins? That is the saddest thing that could ever take place. England has dominated us and has ruled us for centuries just because they were technologically more advanced, and we want England to win a cricket match than Pakistan. (Although a cricket match in no way defines patriotism, but it is all these small things together which perhaps goes to define the big picture).


Another question is, Who has the right to define the borders of a country? Also why should I listen or obey to some rules that were set God knows how long ago and are still being followed.


Ask me, and I would break down all barriers in the world and opt for a world economy. One where we are just a human country.


I do know if what I say may be feasible in a practical sense, but I think it is high time one gave a thought about these things.






whatPatriotism is not a political tool to be used in conjunction with wedge issues to stir the emotions of ordinary citizens, enacting economic policies that primarily benefit major campaign contributors or demanding that one get reservations because he is so and so or justifying once act of bombing a country and proclaim world leader.






whatHow could I be patriotic to a nation when in this world,


5 million children die from hunger each year — one every five seconds.


Every year millions die in the battle field and another millions outside the battle field.


100 million people homeless






I support these great voices,






“The love of one’s country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?” - Casals, Pablo






“I realize that patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone.” - Cavell, Edith last words before execution (Edith Louisa Cavell was a British World War I nurse and humanitarian. She is celebrated for allegedly helping hundreds of allied soldiers escape from German-occupied Belgium to the neutral Netherlands for which she was executed for violating the military law.)






“A man’s country is not a certain area of land, of mountains, rivers, and woods, but it is a principle and patriotism is loyalty to that principle.” - Curtis, George William






“I have no country to fight for; my country is the earth, and I am a citizen of the world.” - Debs, Eugene V.






“Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism - how passionately I hate them!” - Einstein, Albert






“Can anything be stupider than that a man has the right to kill me because he lives on the other side of a river and his ruler has a quarrel with mine, though I have not quarrelled with him?” - Pascal, Blaise


Do not just assume that you are a country member just because someone told you so or because you were born in a piece of land whose borders were drawn some 100 years before you even opened your eyes for the first time. Question those who have drawn the border and ask why that is so….






Let WORLD PEACE Prevail…

Be a “CITIZEN OF THE WORLD”