Dreams seem to come true in this city. People throng in to this place in search of wealth, love, home, family, destiny and what not. Every morning the long distance trains that enters Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus in Mumbai carries in them dreamers who are here to make it big. Their excitements know no limits once their feet kiss the ground beneath. Tears ooze out of the sleepless eyes to see the city they had longed for after being subjected to a series of movies made in Bollywood. Every hero who comes from a village turns big in this city. And almost every Bollywood movie has a rain sequence. Speaking about rains, Mumbai is unimaginable without its share of monsoons.
Last week, I was extremely thrilled to witness a Punjabi family that was here from US to enjoy the first few drops of rains. Marine Drive is enjoyable and so is the Worli sea face. Rains intrigue passion. And rains power the romance between two sweethearts. But with every monsoon shower that raids the city between June to September and sometimes beyond makes one wonder about how to manage it. Presently Mumbai has become extremely unmanageable during monsoons. Memories of a deluged July 26 have not yet faded from the minds of many Mumbaikars who were either stranded out of their homes or had lost everything to the waters that entered their homes and from homes to their lives and from their lives to their future.
Today the moment, it starts raining panic sets in. The first thing that goes haywire is our largest network of railways. It has been happening for a long time and authorities have been turning a blind eye towards it with a shameless smile on their thrash worthy faces. Overhead wires break off. Signals start malfunctioning. Indicators go berserk. During evenings most of the railway platforms witness a black out. Tracks are waterlogged and all you can see are hordes and hordes of people waiting for their train to arrive.
Accidents too are frequent. Roads wear a dreaded look. Potholes, manholes and every possible hole remain submerged under water. The one’s who are cautious are any ways saved. And the one’s who tend to take it a little casually has to end up paying a price of a princely nature. Sometimes life is also at stake.
Every since July 26 deluge shook the chairs beneath the red taped bureaucrats they converged some of the most destructive minds. These minds were already sick enough. But they did one good thing. All of them arrived on the banks of Mithi River and declared the once freely flowing water body the main villain behind the submergence of Mumbai. We, the people foolishly accepted their verdict and from time to time kept checking the status of how much Mithi was finally cleaned. The cost of cleaning kept increasing. Slums were uprooted. People were dislocated and Mithi was considered the root cause of Mumbai facing flash floods. But does Mithi flow around places like Thane, Vashi, Mulund, Bhandup, Ghatkopar, Kandivili, Borivili, Andheri or say Lower Parel? No!
The funniest of all during Mumbai monsoons are the uncountable news channels. A reporter or a group of reporters specially get appointed to stand in knee height dirty waters near Milan subway. The entire world by now knows that the moment Milan subway goes under water, Mumbai is finished. The world is being made an audience to this hara-kiri of very Indian flavour.
For once, it is important to think as to how and why the once enjoyable Mumbai Monsoon has suddenly transformed into a nightmare or a dreaded natural calamity. No! There is no use going to the politicians. In stead given a chance, every politician should be kicked on their butts and straight into the Mithi River. If some one is really thinking of questioning the municipal authorities, don’t be surprised to see how bad they are at crisis management. They have all been given a crash course on ‘Mithi is the Real Villain’ topic. Since I travel a lot and the local train is my safest mode of transport, I frequently come face to face with such municipal authorities. When I cross question them, the reply they have is – what have we got to do with Mother Nature’s fury? Monsoon comes, it goes. We get our salaries on time. Let the world go into a big black hole.
Mumbai sinks every year. Ten to 50 Mumbaites die every year. Five to 10 Mumbaites go missing every year. When it rains (in Mumbai), peace goes on a vacation every year. Save Mumbai by saying no to those sick plastic bags, this is the root cause of all. And avoid decorating the drains by secretly dumping them with garbage.
I love Mumbai. If you do, move your lazy butts a bit to do your bit!
Or else when it again rains (in Mumbai), we will have to see it somewhere up there because by then we would have been a victim of a manhole kept open mistakenly.
- vociferous
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
FACT IS STRANGER THAN FICTION
Tough times demand support, a strong support. The battles begin not on a set premise but from the homes thousands begin their lives. There are those who can and are able to fight a lone battle. And there are those, who need somebody especially family.
In recent times, I seem to be missing out on loads of news which paint a picture of a happy family. If a daughter marries of her choice and her marriage gets into trouble, the parents turn their faces away. If a son marries of his choice, he is abolished from every right he enjoys and if again the marriage is in trouble; the son is welcomed back to start a life afresh.
This is the picture of changing India. Marriages have become fragile. It is said a marriage is not between a man and a woman but between two families. But what happens when the marriage starts showing signs of trouble? In recent times, nothing happens. There are courts that are managed by guys dressed in black suits. Some are honest some are utterly disgusting. Some are interested in putting an end to a conflict at the soonest and some of them love to prolong it.
Today no one seems to be of no one. Family members pull back their support when a girl is in trouble. And for the guys too, it is getting difficult. Half of the damage can be credited to the mindless serials beamed on every Indian television set. And half of the devastation stands credit to the set of outdated laws set by some one dimensional thinkers.
In the serials that I sometimes watch I find one or the other family member trying to avenge over something. In real life, these things are happening and it is a cause for concern. The more we are getting closer to life, I am realising fact is definitely stranger than fiction. Real life stands more entangled because of circumstances! I hope you are hearing it because the only way out now is to think of an alternative that is positive, hopeful and simply favours the brighter side of life.
- vociferous
In recent times, I seem to be missing out on loads of news which paint a picture of a happy family. If a daughter marries of her choice and her marriage gets into trouble, the parents turn their faces away. If a son marries of his choice, he is abolished from every right he enjoys and if again the marriage is in trouble; the son is welcomed back to start a life afresh.
This is the picture of changing India. Marriages have become fragile. It is said a marriage is not between a man and a woman but between two families. But what happens when the marriage starts showing signs of trouble? In recent times, nothing happens. There are courts that are managed by guys dressed in black suits. Some are honest some are utterly disgusting. Some are interested in putting an end to a conflict at the soonest and some of them love to prolong it.
Today no one seems to be of no one. Family members pull back their support when a girl is in trouble. And for the guys too, it is getting difficult. Half of the damage can be credited to the mindless serials beamed on every Indian television set. And half of the devastation stands credit to the set of outdated laws set by some one dimensional thinkers.
In the serials that I sometimes watch I find one or the other family member trying to avenge over something. In real life, these things are happening and it is a cause for concern. The more we are getting closer to life, I am realising fact is definitely stranger than fiction. Real life stands more entangled because of circumstances! I hope you are hearing it because the only way out now is to think of an alternative that is positive, hopeful and simply favours the brighter side of life.
- vociferous
TRAUMATIC
Life is very short. One single incident or a series of unforeseen incidents can make it worse. So worse that it won’t give us even the time to blink an eye of ours. Never in my life, have I felt so helpless. But I was deeply moved when I moved into a Trauma ward of a famous hospital in Mumbai. The patient in question is a young lad not older than 25 years of age. Even though I don’t know him very closely or dearly, I felt it my responsibility to pay him a visit. I was a bit shaken on hearing that he was admitted in a government hospital and was operated, attended and cared for there.
I was prepared for the worst. I have never been abroad and neither do I see myself doing so in the next two years. But if I go, I really would like to understand how the governmental health institutions out there function. Are they in a plight of misfortune like that of our government run hospitals or they are far better than the one’s we manage to survive out here in India?
Focusing back to the patient admitted in one of the well known government run hospitals in Mumbai, I was in for a shock. The first thing that amused me was the lack of security issues. I entered the hospital from the exit or the wrong gate that too unchecked. It didn’t make any difference though because neither entry nor exit was written on the gate. On my shoulders, I was carrying a huge backpack which comprised my laptop, my portfolio and other important stuff that are required to keep me in motion. No one cared to even ask what I was carrying with me within. What was more surprising was to find a police van being parked in the premises and the cops taking no notice of me walking straight inside. This brings into light one heinous fact that Mumbai is still vulnerable to terrorist attacks. And yes, our security concerns are like toy stories.
On walking in, I headed for the trauma ward. The details provided on the board were hardly understandable. More than written, I would term it as scribbled. Names were spelt erroneously. Condition of the patient was beyond imagination to draw a conclusion. Not able to properly locate the patient’s name, I was looking for I headed a little deeper into the hospital. There was no one except some odd people waiting and squatting with their buddies or whoever that was. I found a small window open. As I peeked through it, I found a woman sitting with a magazine in her hand and headphones tucked deep into her ear listening to music played to her by her Nokia XpressMusic 5310. I politely called her as Madam. I did it twice. On understanding that either she was lost in music or just in a mood to ignore me, I banged on the wooden table placed in front of her. She leapt like she suddenly spotted a tiger. Irritated and frustrated before she could satisfy my query, she looked at her watch and only then made up her mind to present me with a reply. I politely asked her about if there was any other trauma ward apart from the one I had visited. Puzzled to the core, she first seemed to have suddenly gone blank. Finally she sprung back to life talking to me in a high tone and telling me that there was only one and why the hell was I bothering her? I apologised and cursing her from within, I went back to the trauma ward I was trying to locate the patient at. I failed once again. Finally I looked out of the door and saw his parents seated under a shade provided by some kind politician or industrialist for relatives and well wishers of those admitted inside.
The patient’s father led me to just the entrance of the ward. Being a highly sensitive ward, we were supposed to not enter it. Before I could react, the door opened and a dead body was pulled out like a fly is thrown out of a tea. The floor inside was red with blood. The moment the body reached the corridor, an elderly woman screamed out and I was deafened more by her pain rather than her voice of grief. I just caught a glimpse of the young patient who was now in a state of coma.
The patient’s parents gave me an account of what had led to the young lad’s admittance to this deathbed. It seems he is a fresh victim of flouting unmanned traffic rules. He was part of the three friend battalion riding on a bike at a speed of 70 km/hr on a rainy night. Rumours suggest they were drunk after a hard night of partying. Let me be specific, rumours suggest that they were drunk. Gossips suggest that they were just racing. Being a rainy night, the roads had turned slippery. After getting to a connecting bridge, the bike suddenly skidded off. All three of them fell of. The one who was driving got away with minor scratches. The third sitting on the rearmost position had to sacrifice with 2 of his left leg fingers and 1 of his right leg fingers. The second person who was sitting in the middle who happens to be our neighbour’s son and the patient in coma was badly hit. He fell while in motion and his head banged straight into the divider. Within seconds, the skull was left open. Blood oozed out and he slipped into a state of unconsciousness. In the dead of night, he was transported from the site of accident to this horrendous site of struggle.
From within, I was shaken about the patient’s war with life and death. And on the other hand I was very angry looking at the plight of the hospital. I felt even if little hope is left for a patient to survive, the deteriorating reputation of this hospital would definitely shatter every single ray of hope. I was seeing patients with saline needles on their forearms running behind doctors. I was seeing women with tears in their eyes running behind ward boys. And I was seeing one after the other patient brought in some strange, serious and most injuriously critical conditions. There were my patient’s parents who seemed to be equipped enough to make a choice between the dying and the dead. I consoled them and advised them to be strong. The patient’s father told me how everything within the hospital is connected. Nothing seems to function smoothly in here. Either palms are to be greased or tough contacts are to be used to make your case rolled ahead.
As I prepared to leave the premise, I saw some guys and girls maybe in their 20s jumping traffic in front of the hospital. The cops seem to be more interested in the revealing outfits of the strange girls rather than in performing their duties. I missed a heartbeat when I saw them cross the road and escape being hit by the running vehicles. One of the girls’s even dared to exclaim, “It went so closely, I thought it had almost touched me. But anything for a pizza date!” I was stunned but could do very less. Their fate hung between the raging road, the frightening footpath and the traumatic place called Government Hospital.
I left with a heavy heart, looking up to the sky and praying to God for a miracle. I wish the prayer gets answered. If not a miracle at least the plight of government hospitals get a little better to help people live a little better life. I have nothing against the doctors because to me they seemed like a group of astronauts who were warming up there to take a leap into the sector of private practicing.
Certainly traumatic but not laughable at all! The pain I felt most was of the bleeding hearts of the parents of the lad who was admitted in that rotten government run hospital!
- vociferous
I was prepared for the worst. I have never been abroad and neither do I see myself doing so in the next two years. But if I go, I really would like to understand how the governmental health institutions out there function. Are they in a plight of misfortune like that of our government run hospitals or they are far better than the one’s we manage to survive out here in India?
Focusing back to the patient admitted in one of the well known government run hospitals in Mumbai, I was in for a shock. The first thing that amused me was the lack of security issues. I entered the hospital from the exit or the wrong gate that too unchecked. It didn’t make any difference though because neither entry nor exit was written on the gate. On my shoulders, I was carrying a huge backpack which comprised my laptop, my portfolio and other important stuff that are required to keep me in motion. No one cared to even ask what I was carrying with me within. What was more surprising was to find a police van being parked in the premises and the cops taking no notice of me walking straight inside. This brings into light one heinous fact that Mumbai is still vulnerable to terrorist attacks. And yes, our security concerns are like toy stories.
On walking in, I headed for the trauma ward. The details provided on the board were hardly understandable. More than written, I would term it as scribbled. Names were spelt erroneously. Condition of the patient was beyond imagination to draw a conclusion. Not able to properly locate the patient’s name, I was looking for I headed a little deeper into the hospital. There was no one except some odd people waiting and squatting with their buddies or whoever that was. I found a small window open. As I peeked through it, I found a woman sitting with a magazine in her hand and headphones tucked deep into her ear listening to music played to her by her Nokia XpressMusic 5310. I politely called her as Madam. I did it twice. On understanding that either she was lost in music or just in a mood to ignore me, I banged on the wooden table placed in front of her. She leapt like she suddenly spotted a tiger. Irritated and frustrated before she could satisfy my query, she looked at her watch and only then made up her mind to present me with a reply. I politely asked her about if there was any other trauma ward apart from the one I had visited. Puzzled to the core, she first seemed to have suddenly gone blank. Finally she sprung back to life talking to me in a high tone and telling me that there was only one and why the hell was I bothering her? I apologised and cursing her from within, I went back to the trauma ward I was trying to locate the patient at. I failed once again. Finally I looked out of the door and saw his parents seated under a shade provided by some kind politician or industrialist for relatives and well wishers of those admitted inside.
The patient’s father led me to just the entrance of the ward. Being a highly sensitive ward, we were supposed to not enter it. Before I could react, the door opened and a dead body was pulled out like a fly is thrown out of a tea. The floor inside was red with blood. The moment the body reached the corridor, an elderly woman screamed out and I was deafened more by her pain rather than her voice of grief. I just caught a glimpse of the young patient who was now in a state of coma.
The patient’s parents gave me an account of what had led to the young lad’s admittance to this deathbed. It seems he is a fresh victim of flouting unmanned traffic rules. He was part of the three friend battalion riding on a bike at a speed of 70 km/hr on a rainy night. Rumours suggest they were drunk after a hard night of partying. Let me be specific, rumours suggest that they were drunk. Gossips suggest that they were just racing. Being a rainy night, the roads had turned slippery. After getting to a connecting bridge, the bike suddenly skidded off. All three of them fell of. The one who was driving got away with minor scratches. The third sitting on the rearmost position had to sacrifice with 2 of his left leg fingers and 1 of his right leg fingers. The second person who was sitting in the middle who happens to be our neighbour’s son and the patient in coma was badly hit. He fell while in motion and his head banged straight into the divider. Within seconds, the skull was left open. Blood oozed out and he slipped into a state of unconsciousness. In the dead of night, he was transported from the site of accident to this horrendous site of struggle.
From within, I was shaken about the patient’s war with life and death. And on the other hand I was very angry looking at the plight of the hospital. I felt even if little hope is left for a patient to survive, the deteriorating reputation of this hospital would definitely shatter every single ray of hope. I was seeing patients with saline needles on their forearms running behind doctors. I was seeing women with tears in their eyes running behind ward boys. And I was seeing one after the other patient brought in some strange, serious and most injuriously critical conditions. There were my patient’s parents who seemed to be equipped enough to make a choice between the dying and the dead. I consoled them and advised them to be strong. The patient’s father told me how everything within the hospital is connected. Nothing seems to function smoothly in here. Either palms are to be greased or tough contacts are to be used to make your case rolled ahead.
As I prepared to leave the premise, I saw some guys and girls maybe in their 20s jumping traffic in front of the hospital. The cops seem to be more interested in the revealing outfits of the strange girls rather than in performing their duties. I missed a heartbeat when I saw them cross the road and escape being hit by the running vehicles. One of the girls’s even dared to exclaim, “It went so closely, I thought it had almost touched me. But anything for a pizza date!” I was stunned but could do very less. Their fate hung between the raging road, the frightening footpath and the traumatic place called Government Hospital.
I left with a heavy heart, looking up to the sky and praying to God for a miracle. I wish the prayer gets answered. If not a miracle at least the plight of government hospitals get a little better to help people live a little better life. I have nothing against the doctors because to me they seemed like a group of astronauts who were warming up there to take a leap into the sector of private practicing.
Certainly traumatic but not laughable at all! The pain I felt most was of the bleeding hearts of the parents of the lad who was admitted in that rotten government run hospital!
- vociferous
Monday, June 21, 2010
A PROMISE WELL KEPT
Indescribable…
Rains couldn’t have got that worse like it did that day.
Roads were getting waterlogged.
Trains had started running late.
Almost every source of transport had started plying behind schedule.
But then there are those who are determined to fulfil promises.
I know a person who braved the odds.
Thunderstorms and thundering are specific reasons for that person to be scared of.
Rains are not that bad. But when it is about a promise and the rains threaten to dampen it; risks run higher.
Though it was decided to make it at 5.30 pm, some commitments led to 6.30 pm.
Mumbai by then was under the influence of heavy rains.
Drenched and completely clueless, the wait was going to be longer.
Pritish Nandy’s new book of poems ‘Again’ was the only option that made things lighter.
And finally the keeper of promise appeared.
I saw a soul drenched in rain and I saw a mind drenched in thoughts.
There was nothing less but a smile that lightened the moment.
To sum it up, I had no second thoughts that a promise was well kept.
Indebted for life… Trust me!
- vociferous
Rains couldn’t have got that worse like it did that day.
Roads were getting waterlogged.
Trains had started running late.
Almost every source of transport had started plying behind schedule.
But then there are those who are determined to fulfil promises.
I know a person who braved the odds.
Thunderstorms and thundering are specific reasons for that person to be scared of.
Rains are not that bad. But when it is about a promise and the rains threaten to dampen it; risks run higher.
Though it was decided to make it at 5.30 pm, some commitments led to 6.30 pm.
Mumbai by then was under the influence of heavy rains.
Drenched and completely clueless, the wait was going to be longer.
Pritish Nandy’s new book of poems ‘Again’ was the only option that made things lighter.
And finally the keeper of promise appeared.
I saw a soul drenched in rain and I saw a mind drenched in thoughts.
There was nothing less but a smile that lightened the moment.
To sum it up, I had no second thoughts that a promise was well kept.
Indebted for life… Trust me!
- vociferous
CASTE-OFF
The title of this blog is the title of the fifteenth chapter in Jeffrey Archer’s newly released book of short stories ‘And Thereby Hangs a Tale’.
There is a specific reason of me deciding to zero in on the title of this blog. And the intention is also particularly specific for me being Jeffrey Archer’s biggest fan.
I discovered Jeffrey Archer by accident for sure. It was I think seven years back. I was stuck in office due to rains. There was nothing particular to be done. It was drizzling out and from that office in suburban Mumbai; all I could see was tiny droplets of rain. The mood was extremely romantic. But at the very same time I was going through the roughest patch of my life. It was raining and the rain showed no signs of stopping. I thought of staying back a little long and accidentally my eyes fell on a book with an interesting title Sons of Fortune, which was released in 2003. This happened to be my first encounter with my all time favourite author.
I never could read a single page of it and then the time came when Jeffrey Archer released his book A Prisoner of Birth in 2008. I was at Kemps Corner waiting for a friend of mine. I had to kill some time and I thought of taking a look at the new arrivals in Crosswords Book Store. Everywhere I could see one book that was displayed proudly and that was A Prisoner of Birth. I grabbed a copy of it and sat at a corner flipping through the pages. By the time, I reached on page fifty; I decided to buy it. I was definitely carried away.
I came home and couldn’t separate myself from the book for the next four days. After I finished it, I knew I had found a writer I am going to call one of my favourite authors and a prolific storyteller. In a short span of time he released Paths of Glory in 2009. He visited India and I still regret having missed the opportunity of meeting my favourite writer.
Today I have a collection of most of his books. And I am waiting to own a copy of his all time hit Kane and Abel which was released way back in 1980 when I had been just two years old. A friend of mine has suggested waiting a little. He seems to be having the first original copy of it, which he feels, would be proud to gift me once he returns from New York. Even if he doesn’t I shall buy the latest edition which was launched a few months back.
Focusing on ‘And Thereby Hangs a Tale’ and the fifteenth & the last story of the book, which is based in India; I was deeply moved. Titled Caste-Off, it narrates the love story of Nisha and Jamwal. They meet up at a traffic signal in the every busy vehicle heavy road of Delhi. Both end up racing their cars. Jamwal follows Nisha into the hotel, she checks in. And Jamwal decides, Nisha is the girl he will make his life partner.
Jamwal is a Rajputana Prince with a fortune to die for. He is flamboyant and has affairs with the best of women. Nisha on the other hand is the daughter of Shyam Chaudhary and believes in living a life of content. When they meet up at a party they both are in love with their respective partners. One day, Nisha leaves for San Francisco and Jamwal follows her all the way till there. She is surprised and thinks, is he the man? Jamwal is a favourite with gossip columnists for his involvement with women. Nisha is but smitten. Finally both decide to get married. Nisha’s parents are more than happy to see their daughter being married off to a prince of a Rajput clan.
Jamwal returns home to Jaipur for his parents’ final consent. During his visit, his mom declares that they have found him a royal bridal match. Jamwal decides to defy his father, his mother and his entire family to begin life with Nisha. His father abolishes him from any claims to be made to their family assets. Jamwal and Nisha get married and fly off to Goa for a lovely honeymoon. Jamwal pursues Nisha to join him for a swim. Nisha disagrees. Jamwal still takes a plunge into the swimming pool and after some time, Nisha sees blood floating on the surface. The story seems to end there. But then enters Jeffrey’s mastery art of storytelling. Jeffrey himself makes an entry in the story of Jamwal and Nisha. He confesses that he shamelessly flirted with Nisha and found it strange that Jamwal was never discomforted. The party gets over. Every one leaves. Jamwal sits there only to be helped by Nisha on a wheelchair. The accident at the swimming pool left Jamwal paralysed for life. Childless but very much in love, Jamwal and Nisha continue to live a life of content.
I was moved by the story very deeply. Here are two people in love who know no boundaries. Jamwal’s handicap could have been a reason enough for Nisha’s departure from his life. But Nisha never forgot Jamwal’s sacrifice. I wish love in real life could have been that real. By the way Jeffrey tells us that this is a true story. If this is a real story, let me tell you – LOVE IS WONDERFUL. One should only have the courage to support the partner he or she is in love with.
Saluting Jeffrey Archer to make me believe in love again… I sign off saying Love is Beautiful so Life is Immensely Beautiful! (I hope you heard that… )
Jeffrey Archers book of short stories - ‘And Thereby Hangs a Tale’: Strongly Recommended!
- vociferous
There is a specific reason of me deciding to zero in on the title of this blog. And the intention is also particularly specific for me being Jeffrey Archer’s biggest fan.
I discovered Jeffrey Archer by accident for sure. It was I think seven years back. I was stuck in office due to rains. There was nothing particular to be done. It was drizzling out and from that office in suburban Mumbai; all I could see was tiny droplets of rain. The mood was extremely romantic. But at the very same time I was going through the roughest patch of my life. It was raining and the rain showed no signs of stopping. I thought of staying back a little long and accidentally my eyes fell on a book with an interesting title Sons of Fortune, which was released in 2003. This happened to be my first encounter with my all time favourite author.
I never could read a single page of it and then the time came when Jeffrey Archer released his book A Prisoner of Birth in 2008. I was at Kemps Corner waiting for a friend of mine. I had to kill some time and I thought of taking a look at the new arrivals in Crosswords Book Store. Everywhere I could see one book that was displayed proudly and that was A Prisoner of Birth. I grabbed a copy of it and sat at a corner flipping through the pages. By the time, I reached on page fifty; I decided to buy it. I was definitely carried away.
I came home and couldn’t separate myself from the book for the next four days. After I finished it, I knew I had found a writer I am going to call one of my favourite authors and a prolific storyteller. In a short span of time he released Paths of Glory in 2009. He visited India and I still regret having missed the opportunity of meeting my favourite writer.
Today I have a collection of most of his books. And I am waiting to own a copy of his all time hit Kane and Abel which was released way back in 1980 when I had been just two years old. A friend of mine has suggested waiting a little. He seems to be having the first original copy of it, which he feels, would be proud to gift me once he returns from New York. Even if he doesn’t I shall buy the latest edition which was launched a few months back.
Focusing on ‘And Thereby Hangs a Tale’ and the fifteenth & the last story of the book, which is based in India; I was deeply moved. Titled Caste-Off, it narrates the love story of Nisha and Jamwal. They meet up at a traffic signal in the every busy vehicle heavy road of Delhi. Both end up racing their cars. Jamwal follows Nisha into the hotel, she checks in. And Jamwal decides, Nisha is the girl he will make his life partner.
Jamwal is a Rajputana Prince with a fortune to die for. He is flamboyant and has affairs with the best of women. Nisha on the other hand is the daughter of Shyam Chaudhary and believes in living a life of content. When they meet up at a party they both are in love with their respective partners. One day, Nisha leaves for San Francisco and Jamwal follows her all the way till there. She is surprised and thinks, is he the man? Jamwal is a favourite with gossip columnists for his involvement with women. Nisha is but smitten. Finally both decide to get married. Nisha’s parents are more than happy to see their daughter being married off to a prince of a Rajput clan.
Jamwal returns home to Jaipur for his parents’ final consent. During his visit, his mom declares that they have found him a royal bridal match. Jamwal decides to defy his father, his mother and his entire family to begin life with Nisha. His father abolishes him from any claims to be made to their family assets. Jamwal and Nisha get married and fly off to Goa for a lovely honeymoon. Jamwal pursues Nisha to join him for a swim. Nisha disagrees. Jamwal still takes a plunge into the swimming pool and after some time, Nisha sees blood floating on the surface. The story seems to end there. But then enters Jeffrey’s mastery art of storytelling. Jeffrey himself makes an entry in the story of Jamwal and Nisha. He confesses that he shamelessly flirted with Nisha and found it strange that Jamwal was never discomforted. The party gets over. Every one leaves. Jamwal sits there only to be helped by Nisha on a wheelchair. The accident at the swimming pool left Jamwal paralysed for life. Childless but very much in love, Jamwal and Nisha continue to live a life of content.
I was moved by the story very deeply. Here are two people in love who know no boundaries. Jamwal’s handicap could have been a reason enough for Nisha’s departure from his life. But Nisha never forgot Jamwal’s sacrifice. I wish love in real life could have been that real. By the way Jeffrey tells us that this is a true story. If this is a real story, let me tell you – LOVE IS WONDERFUL. One should only have the courage to support the partner he or she is in love with.
Saluting Jeffrey Archer to make me believe in love again… I sign off saying Love is Beautiful so Life is Immensely Beautiful! (I hope you heard that… )
Jeffrey Archers book of short stories - ‘And Thereby Hangs a Tale’: Strongly Recommended!
- vociferous
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
MOTIVATE/INSPIRE SOME ONE
It doesn’t require a fortune to motivate/inspire some one. It certainly does require a little bit of effort. But the effort has to be genuine because some one relies on us. As human beings we are not born with negative thoughts in our minds. Circumstances, situations and many other factors inject negativity and therefore we end up thinking drastically different from how we should be thinking.
The world I feel is made up of two varieties of people. One variety is of those who are eager to think positive and do positive things. The other variety is of those who need a little bit of help to think positive and do positive things. At times, we fail to notice that even our closest friend might be in need of some motivation or inspiration to achieve feats, which he/she thinks are of impossible nature.
To begin with, the first and foremost thing one needs to do is sacrifice, surrender and submerge the little bit of attitude or arrogance to be of help to others. Yes it is necessary. Personally I have realised when I was driven or overpowered by my ego, things never worked out. Leave alone motivating or inspiring others, I was considered nothing less than a dread factor. But it is better to wake up before irreparable damage is done to your own self or to the people around you.
I suggest when any of us as human beings start our day, we should say to ourselves – LET’S MOTIVATE/INSPIRE SOME ONE TODAY. Simultaneously we should also pray to God to give us the courage, strength, determination and willingness to do so. If you endeavour to do it half heartedly, believe me you would neither motivate nor inspire. All that you will end up doing is making that some one feel more miserable.
Insecurities definitely surround us when we take the onus of going ahead with the task of motivating/inspiring some one. Does that mean you should remain indifferent? Certainly not! Genuine souls always make it a point to remember that motivation/inspiration till the end of their life. And even if they don’t, we should make ourselves understand and stay happy that whatever he/she is achieving, has achieved or will be achieving has been possible because of your presence. Not everyone is on the scene. I believe the real motivators/inspirers are those who toil behind the scene. Popularity, fame, wealth may not or never come their way for all the good work they do. But the biggest treasure being a motivator/inspirer you can earn is Trust. There is nothing precious than trust. Once you inculcate it and work towards nurturing it, a lot of difference can be made.
Yesterday I motivated and inspired some one. It was a great feeling of satisfaction and fulfilment. I was equally elated to know the accolades that followed. I am sure in the near future that person will never fall short of motivation/inspiration. All it required was a start. All it required was a trigger to inject the confidence. Facing an audience is no child’s play. Stage fright or the sudden fear of forgetting well rehearsed lines sometimes might make the confidence dip. But once you speak out valiantly even in front of a handful people, I say half of the job is done. Because by now you have earned confidence to face the odds and even it as per your will, desire and vision.
So, no need to shy away. Make it a point to motivate/inspire some one. If not with royal rewards, you will definitely be compensated with two things – Trust for Life and an Everlasting Smile of Confidence from your benefactor.
- vociferous
The world I feel is made up of two varieties of people. One variety is of those who are eager to think positive and do positive things. The other variety is of those who need a little bit of help to think positive and do positive things. At times, we fail to notice that even our closest friend might be in need of some motivation or inspiration to achieve feats, which he/she thinks are of impossible nature.
To begin with, the first and foremost thing one needs to do is sacrifice, surrender and submerge the little bit of attitude or arrogance to be of help to others. Yes it is necessary. Personally I have realised when I was driven or overpowered by my ego, things never worked out. Leave alone motivating or inspiring others, I was considered nothing less than a dread factor. But it is better to wake up before irreparable damage is done to your own self or to the people around you.
I suggest when any of us as human beings start our day, we should say to ourselves – LET’S MOTIVATE/INSPIRE SOME ONE TODAY. Simultaneously we should also pray to God to give us the courage, strength, determination and willingness to do so. If you endeavour to do it half heartedly, believe me you would neither motivate nor inspire. All that you will end up doing is making that some one feel more miserable.
Insecurities definitely surround us when we take the onus of going ahead with the task of motivating/inspiring some one. Does that mean you should remain indifferent? Certainly not! Genuine souls always make it a point to remember that motivation/inspiration till the end of their life. And even if they don’t, we should make ourselves understand and stay happy that whatever he/she is achieving, has achieved or will be achieving has been possible because of your presence. Not everyone is on the scene. I believe the real motivators/inspirers are those who toil behind the scene. Popularity, fame, wealth may not or never come their way for all the good work they do. But the biggest treasure being a motivator/inspirer you can earn is Trust. There is nothing precious than trust. Once you inculcate it and work towards nurturing it, a lot of difference can be made.
Yesterday I motivated and inspired some one. It was a great feeling of satisfaction and fulfilment. I was equally elated to know the accolades that followed. I am sure in the near future that person will never fall short of motivation/inspiration. All it required was a start. All it required was a trigger to inject the confidence. Facing an audience is no child’s play. Stage fright or the sudden fear of forgetting well rehearsed lines sometimes might make the confidence dip. But once you speak out valiantly even in front of a handful people, I say half of the job is done. Because by now you have earned confidence to face the odds and even it as per your will, desire and vision.
So, no need to shy away. Make it a point to motivate/inspire some one. If not with royal rewards, you will definitely be compensated with two things – Trust for Life and an Everlasting Smile of Confidence from your benefactor.
- vociferous
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
TIME TO THINK POSITIVE
It was once a choice of my real self, I had decided to retreat and coil in to a cocoon. But I failed miserably. I was surrounded by my well wishers through out my conquest for the real meaning of life. I had once decided to renounce everything and take the journey to the foothills of Himalayas. A friend rightly remarked – The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari effect. To some extent, it was! But then I was going through a phase when nothing seemed real. I had by then once decided to detach myself from the unrealities of universal nature.
I shut myself from the world. I made up my mind to never switch on my cell phone. I was enjoying my solitary confinement. I spoke very less and I sat quietly looking at people around me. People gazed at me in surprise when they saw me sitting on a railway platform spending time looking at the trains passing. I also mustered the courage to board the train to Kolkata and sheepishly alighted at Kasara. Something was holding me back. I couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong.
Life had started acting strange. Similarly I too had started acting strange. Nothing interested or impressed me. I was shocked to realize how easily I had given up writing, listening to music, watching movies, meeting friends and expressing my views on love, life & luck. I then heard a voice of oneness from three of my best friends. They said, “Wake up; it is time to think positive”.
I said to myself it is time to think positive. The energy of thinking that I felt I had lost was back. One of my friends remarked, “The Bengal Tiger has started moving in the cage restlessly to prepare for a hunt”. I was never a tiger. I can never challenge nature’s other creations. But I could feel that how weak I had grown when I had started thinking negative. It was this particular phase I lost friends and I sacrificed some of the finest moments of happiness.
I still remember one of my old friends who saw me with beard on my face and screamed, “Eeks! Is that you?” I remained silent. I knew it was all about my own negativity. But once that phase got over, I was back on the aisle of what seemed like invincibility. My ascent had already started becoming a threat to the one’s who had taken control of things during my psychological absence in the real/unreal world. I announced that I was back to stay longer, fight longer and achieve bigger.
Destiny had something else on its mind. Jealousy, insecurity and incapability of others somehow tried to mar my reputation. I only followed one ideology – Think Positive. So much positive was I that when I met new people, made new friends, mobilized new conversations; I realized that I was taken notice of.
Today I am stuck in a moment that was once negative. But the time has come to again think positive. To protect certain relations, it is the need of the moment to think positive. The past really has passed away! It is all about the present and the future. I am not going to coil into a cocoon. I have vowed not to give up any more. It is my self assigned responsibility to make things the way they were or used to be during that once moment of negativity. If that means apologizing over a million numbers of times, I am ready to do so. If that means renouncing everything once again, I am ready to do so. The only desire is to put misunderstandings, misconceptions and miscommunications to rest. I have started doing that by reconnecting with those with whom I had once broken all my ties.
Time will stand witness to how much justice I do to my vision. But I am sure now that I have started thinking positive, things won’t be that complicated! One mighty force which remains with me is God himself. His miracles don’t create a sound, thunder or a visual impact. The Almighty is the most secretive operator, I have ever discovered. Had He not been around or within every human being, positive thinking would have become a thing of the past! He is invisible, he is untraceable, he is an entity with no specific structure. But he is around.
Paying my respect to God and offering my prayers to the Supreme Power above us, I once again say to myself – It is time to think positive. I know all that I had lost will come back to me. Be it friendship, success, love, power or whatever else. I am waiting because I know I am thinking positive and positivists never are known for giving up but are known for taking life to a new level of self actualization. The clock is ticking. And I am thinking positive. Join me to think, do, create and make possible a lot of positive things around us.
Love you the most; I might have hurt the most! I am extremely sorry!
- vociferous
I shut myself from the world. I made up my mind to never switch on my cell phone. I was enjoying my solitary confinement. I spoke very less and I sat quietly looking at people around me. People gazed at me in surprise when they saw me sitting on a railway platform spending time looking at the trains passing. I also mustered the courage to board the train to Kolkata and sheepishly alighted at Kasara. Something was holding me back. I couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong.
Life had started acting strange. Similarly I too had started acting strange. Nothing interested or impressed me. I was shocked to realize how easily I had given up writing, listening to music, watching movies, meeting friends and expressing my views on love, life & luck. I then heard a voice of oneness from three of my best friends. They said, “Wake up; it is time to think positive”.
I said to myself it is time to think positive. The energy of thinking that I felt I had lost was back. One of my friends remarked, “The Bengal Tiger has started moving in the cage restlessly to prepare for a hunt”. I was never a tiger. I can never challenge nature’s other creations. But I could feel that how weak I had grown when I had started thinking negative. It was this particular phase I lost friends and I sacrificed some of the finest moments of happiness.
I still remember one of my old friends who saw me with beard on my face and screamed, “Eeks! Is that you?” I remained silent. I knew it was all about my own negativity. But once that phase got over, I was back on the aisle of what seemed like invincibility. My ascent had already started becoming a threat to the one’s who had taken control of things during my psychological absence in the real/unreal world. I announced that I was back to stay longer, fight longer and achieve bigger.
Destiny had something else on its mind. Jealousy, insecurity and incapability of others somehow tried to mar my reputation. I only followed one ideology – Think Positive. So much positive was I that when I met new people, made new friends, mobilized new conversations; I realized that I was taken notice of.
Today I am stuck in a moment that was once negative. But the time has come to again think positive. To protect certain relations, it is the need of the moment to think positive. The past really has passed away! It is all about the present and the future. I am not going to coil into a cocoon. I have vowed not to give up any more. It is my self assigned responsibility to make things the way they were or used to be during that once moment of negativity. If that means apologizing over a million numbers of times, I am ready to do so. If that means renouncing everything once again, I am ready to do so. The only desire is to put misunderstandings, misconceptions and miscommunications to rest. I have started doing that by reconnecting with those with whom I had once broken all my ties.
Time will stand witness to how much justice I do to my vision. But I am sure now that I have started thinking positive, things won’t be that complicated! One mighty force which remains with me is God himself. His miracles don’t create a sound, thunder or a visual impact. The Almighty is the most secretive operator, I have ever discovered. Had He not been around or within every human being, positive thinking would have become a thing of the past! He is invisible, he is untraceable, he is an entity with no specific structure. But he is around.
Paying my respect to God and offering my prayers to the Supreme Power above us, I once again say to myself – It is time to think positive. I know all that I had lost will come back to me. Be it friendship, success, love, power or whatever else. I am waiting because I know I am thinking positive and positivists never are known for giving up but are known for taking life to a new level of self actualization. The clock is ticking. And I am thinking positive. Join me to think, do, create and make possible a lot of positive things around us.
Love you the most; I might have hurt the most! I am extremely sorry!
- vociferous
Monday, June 14, 2010
I OWE A LOT
Life has been like a roller coaster ride. There have been happier, lovelier, sadder and lonelier moments. Thinking in the retrospective, I sometimes feel how much I have done justice to those moments.
These moments were not automatic. But these moments were and I still consider are a product of my deeds. In short, I owe a lot to those who made a difference to my life.
My life began say 29 years back when I really started knowing the things around me. The excitement of making friends was simply indescribable. Friendship kept growing till suddenly I never realized that even that is so short-lived. Still I would say school was the real midpoint to form bonds for life.
After school, it was college and the years just flew away. Luckily all that was left behind was a bond of true friendship. Some betrayed, some abandoned and some simply chose to ignore. Still I clung on to that hope of staying positive in life.
College was over. The time had come to explore myself and the skills I had honed to earn myself a livelihood. My dad was so right. The honeymoon period was over. This was the real world. The real world stood in front of me like a mirror. In this mirror I saw my face. I was myself not sure whether this face belonged to me or my body belonged to that face.
The journey of true life thus commenced. To begin with the first job I took over was like a laboratory. Here I met people of all sorts. From good to the best to the excellent and to the super excellent, they were all made of traits I had never known. Some made me smile, some made me feel nervous. But at the end of the day, it was life unlimited. One human being who still remains a part of my life is the memory of a certain Mr. Rao or I still respectfully address his Raosahab. This man taught me that take life the way it comes to you and never expect anything from anybody.
Even though I had ignored Raosahab and his courteous wife’s proposition to fly with them off to Dubai, I still couldn’t convey to them how much I owed them. Till date, Raosahab’s impact hasn’t found a substitute in my mind. He was invincible. He was terrific. At times, I used to secretly wish – God make me like him. Committed to his wife, to this son and to his family, Raosahab led me like an elder brother does to his younger brother. He gave me the name – Puru.
I owe a lot to him.
And then there are those who chose to first come to my life as friends and then made me realize even friends can wear masks. I wish I had self cautioned me. These were not friends but elements which resembled like friends. Luckily they left as faster as they had arrived. Once again only the true form of friendship was left and still remains with me. I met such friends yesterday. I realized the world is not that bitter as it seems to. I wish I had never lost out on the years of absence from their lives or their absence in my life. They are very close to me. I would never want to lose them. They are the one’s who make me feel the real me. When I get home, they put me a sms saying that it feels great to reunite and they sign off saying – let there be more such moments.
Friends, I owe a lot to you all. (I don’t wish to take names because they will understand I am talking about them. They are that dear to me.)
I have been equally responsible for causing pain to those who never deserved it. Some spoke out loud and some chose to whisk out quietly. One of them said that arrogance never suited me. That person also added that the little amount of arrogance made me ruin my own happiness. And I realize how my own arrogance had caused that human being the deepest pain. Today when I come face to face with that person, I ask myself what did I achieve or gain out of the way I behaved! The reply is simple – nothing. I know however hard I try that person will keep going back to that juncture of disbelief when I was so indifferent. My own deed is irreversible and the guilt is unfathomable.
I owe that person a lot. I owe that person a lot because that person hasn’t changed a bit from the time I had decided I shall never speak to that person.
I have changed. I imagine or speculate that I have changed. A little amount of arrogance might have held my mind hostage for some while. But I fought it out, buried it deep and moved ahead to be with the ones, I consider my own.
At the end, it’s my life. I owe it a lot. Though it has been gifted to me by my parents who brought me to this world, I feel I still owe it a lot. The sacrifices that my dad made when he was alive and the adjustments that my mother keeps making are simply indescribable.
Dad never was vocal. He was in complete control of his emotions, expressions and even expectations. Mom has always been a friend and continues to be so. At the end of the day however busy I am, I come back to her. She makes me feel great. Even though she gets stressed, worried when I am not around her; she manages to sport a smile and tells me – You are back my son.
I owe a lot to you Maa and to you Dad up there! My dad is up there listening to me. He is seeing his son. Some say, I have his face and I look like him. But I say, he was the one and only Dad I would love to have as my dad for every life and my mom the only mom for every life.
I do owe a lot to all…!
- vociferous
These moments were not automatic. But these moments were and I still consider are a product of my deeds. In short, I owe a lot to those who made a difference to my life.
My life began say 29 years back when I really started knowing the things around me. The excitement of making friends was simply indescribable. Friendship kept growing till suddenly I never realized that even that is so short-lived. Still I would say school was the real midpoint to form bonds for life.
After school, it was college and the years just flew away. Luckily all that was left behind was a bond of true friendship. Some betrayed, some abandoned and some simply chose to ignore. Still I clung on to that hope of staying positive in life.
College was over. The time had come to explore myself and the skills I had honed to earn myself a livelihood. My dad was so right. The honeymoon period was over. This was the real world. The real world stood in front of me like a mirror. In this mirror I saw my face. I was myself not sure whether this face belonged to me or my body belonged to that face.
The journey of true life thus commenced. To begin with the first job I took over was like a laboratory. Here I met people of all sorts. From good to the best to the excellent and to the super excellent, they were all made of traits I had never known. Some made me smile, some made me feel nervous. But at the end of the day, it was life unlimited. One human being who still remains a part of my life is the memory of a certain Mr. Rao or I still respectfully address his Raosahab. This man taught me that take life the way it comes to you and never expect anything from anybody.
Even though I had ignored Raosahab and his courteous wife’s proposition to fly with them off to Dubai, I still couldn’t convey to them how much I owed them. Till date, Raosahab’s impact hasn’t found a substitute in my mind. He was invincible. He was terrific. At times, I used to secretly wish – God make me like him. Committed to his wife, to this son and to his family, Raosahab led me like an elder brother does to his younger brother. He gave me the name – Puru.
I owe a lot to him.
And then there are those who chose to first come to my life as friends and then made me realize even friends can wear masks. I wish I had self cautioned me. These were not friends but elements which resembled like friends. Luckily they left as faster as they had arrived. Once again only the true form of friendship was left and still remains with me. I met such friends yesterday. I realized the world is not that bitter as it seems to. I wish I had never lost out on the years of absence from their lives or their absence in my life. They are very close to me. I would never want to lose them. They are the one’s who make me feel the real me. When I get home, they put me a sms saying that it feels great to reunite and they sign off saying – let there be more such moments.
Friends, I owe a lot to you all. (I don’t wish to take names because they will understand I am talking about them. They are that dear to me.)
I have been equally responsible for causing pain to those who never deserved it. Some spoke out loud and some chose to whisk out quietly. One of them said that arrogance never suited me. That person also added that the little amount of arrogance made me ruin my own happiness. And I realize how my own arrogance had caused that human being the deepest pain. Today when I come face to face with that person, I ask myself what did I achieve or gain out of the way I behaved! The reply is simple – nothing. I know however hard I try that person will keep going back to that juncture of disbelief when I was so indifferent. My own deed is irreversible and the guilt is unfathomable.
I owe that person a lot. I owe that person a lot because that person hasn’t changed a bit from the time I had decided I shall never speak to that person.
I have changed. I imagine or speculate that I have changed. A little amount of arrogance might have held my mind hostage for some while. But I fought it out, buried it deep and moved ahead to be with the ones, I consider my own.
At the end, it’s my life. I owe it a lot. Though it has been gifted to me by my parents who brought me to this world, I feel I still owe it a lot. The sacrifices that my dad made when he was alive and the adjustments that my mother keeps making are simply indescribable.
Dad never was vocal. He was in complete control of his emotions, expressions and even expectations. Mom has always been a friend and continues to be so. At the end of the day however busy I am, I come back to her. She makes me feel great. Even though she gets stressed, worried when I am not around her; she manages to sport a smile and tells me – You are back my son.
I owe a lot to you Maa and to you Dad up there! My dad is up there listening to me. He is seeing his son. Some say, I have his face and I look like him. But I say, he was the one and only Dad I would love to have as my dad for every life and my mom the only mom for every life.
I do owe a lot to all…!
- vociferous
Saturday, June 12, 2010
SOME THINGS IN LIFE REMAIN UNDONE
Seven years is a long time. So long is it that minds tend to fall short of memories. So long is it that relationships go through sea change. So long is it that we grow immune to our own surroundings.
Seven years just passed away like the fistful of sand, we tried our level best to hold but it just slipped away. One thing is for sure that time never stands still. It moves, it keeps moving and along with time, move us!
I remember only the train and the passenger who left with an unfulfilled aspirations and too much of pain in heart thinking how can a person’s attitude be so overpowering & mightier! The eyes had swelled with tears and the heart might have ached so much that she had remained speechless.
After seven years, the same passenger alighted from not a train but a taxi and had become a traveler. In the last seven years one thing that has not changed about her is the smile and the free flowing hair. From a distance, all one can see of her was a serene and composed personality who stood their waiting for somebody.
Time seemed to be coming to a standstill but there were so many questions to be asked and so many answers to be found out. Every question traveled back to that juncture of separation seven years back and every reply was centered on the present. The conversations might have begun with a Smiling Hi but the farewell didn’t signoff with a Smiling Bi.
To arrive at a conclusion all that can be said of those seven years that some things remained undone. Had time taken the two back to that juncture, maybe things would have been different. If the person bidding farewell from the platform could have boarded the same train and held her hands, seven years would have not just passed away in remembrances, in pains and in expectations.
Life might have moved on but the conscience within keeps reminding that some things still remain undone. Now that the wait is over, maybe the two of them can look ahead to more questions and more answers.
The smiles that had once faded were back on faces. Moments that had run out of magic had turned magical again. The sun was setting, the skies had turned cloudier and the birds were heading home too.
After an entire day of smiles, tears and a promise to see each other again, they departed.
But one of them still left with a heavy heart and went to the same platform; the train had left from seven years back. He spent two hours recollecting what had happened and once the mistake was realized, he moved on. And just then the mobile rang. The voice on the other end was smiling too…!
The above is just an account of two strangers who never were strangers but very much in love till destiny did them apart and brought them together AGAIN!
- vociferous
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