Paaglu

I

‘What happened? You !! Again !!’, shouted the young lady.

The man smiled, and then he giggled, closed his eyes with extreme joy. His day was made, so he couldn’t say anything else.

‘Paagal, Paaglu! Pray that I don’t complain to my father’, said the girl angrily as she went away swearing at the fool.

For anyone else she would have complained to her father- the banker of the village or the Nagar Seth. But they all knew that Paaglu was harmless. He was just dumb and stupid for his age.

Once she was gone, Paaglu continued with his work, lifting the sacks of grains in the shop.

‘What did the girl say Paaglu?’ another of the workers asked him. They loved playing that game with Paaglu.

‘Hmmm….’ thought Paaglu, trying to remember what she said but he didn’t remember anything.

‘After some days’, he blushed as he replied and believed they would believe.

He knew it was a safe answer. On some occasions, he had been badly beaten for answering something else. But this one was safe.

‘Yes, in the meanwhile you must get your Haweli ready for her. You know she is the daughter of the Nagar Seth’

‘Yes, Yes, I will lift more sacks than anyone’, replied Paaglu with firm conviction. He was almost certain that he was on right course to make his late mother’s words come true.

‘If you can finish the complete meal, I will go to Seth ji  to inform him that now my son is a very good boy. He will marry his daughter to you’, she used to say.

Paaglu always complied. He had realized that it made his mother feel happy. He must have been 4 or 5 years old then.

He had those faint memories of his mother. And then they took her away one day tied on a cot. Some elders had taken him to the Haweli of the Seth where his mother worked, ‘Sarkaar, iski maa mar gayi aaj. Beemaar thi…… Kuchh daan karenge to antim samskaar ho jayega’

The Sethani was a kind lady. She knew one of her maids was very ill. She felt pity and mercy for the small chubby boy.

She gave a few ginnis for the last rites of the woman while the Seth grumbled, ‘Woman! When will you learn the value of one of those pieces? Do you want to perform the last rites of his mother or his whole family?

But what he was speaking was true. Paaglu’s mother was his whole family.

The little daughter of the Seth saw a wailing boy younger than her being dragged out by the village elders, towards the Shamshaan ghat. She started crying herself out of fear.

Paaglu checked who else was crying. She was the daughter of the Nagar Seth, his mother mentioned so many times a day. She had large dark eyes, the boy remembered amidst that traumatic moment.

When the villagers forcefully made a screaming Paaglu lit up his mother’s pyre, probably the boy lost the rest of his mental balance. He had those few memories for his only assets in life, the frail face of his mother which was full of pity and fear for her small boy. Her most often spoken words, ‘beta khana khaale …………. ’. Those large dark eyes of that small girl, who was the only one who had cried with him that awful day.

So Paaglu grew up with his 5 year olds’ brain.

 He would do odd errands at the shops, eat in front of the village temple on the weekly worship days- the Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday.

Thank God, everyday had a God and some women or other worshipped them or else Paaglu would have starved to death. He helped people at the ghat and slept there during the night. It got scary after the little torches went off after their oil got burnt or the wind blew them off. He loved to help people at the Shamshan Ghat as he had a faint hope that his mother would be back there from wherever she had gone.

For all the work he did, someone would give him their leftovers to eat.

All grown up at 17, he was the cheapest labour in the village. He didn’t know how much his work valued, so he was always in demand.

He ate happily whatever they gave him as he knew that his mother was looking at him from the heavens.

Whatever he earned, someone advised that he could keep and register in one of the Bahis of the Seth for the odd day. He didn’t realize it was also one of their pranks, to get the Seth hear the grand plans of the idiot- to marry the Seth’s daughter.

The Seth seemed pleased to begin with when he learnt that Paaglu wanted to save with his bank. Paaglu was sent to one of the Munims.

That is when the problem began when the Munim casually asked, ‘what would you do with the money Paaglu’

‘I will marry the Nagar Seth’s daughter’, the reply came promptly.

That was the day Paaglu was beaten real badly. He had bled profusely and laid unconscious on the ghat for long hours. He never uttered those words again before the Seth, his family or his workers. He had tried his luck on a few more occasions before the girl; once she had smiled but the next time her guards had again chased him away.

But there were other villagers who asked him ‘Paaglu, the daughter of the Seth is all grown up. When are you going to ask for her hand?’

Scared but honest, he replied, ‘Soon, very soon. Just some more days’

‘See, your mother left you a Haweli on the top of that coconut tree. Just check if everything is fine there before your wife comes’

Paaglu had rushed to the top of the coconut tree, checked every leaf there, but there was no haweli there.

He didn’t mind those bruises but he was so convinced that he had checked every coconut tree in the village. When he realized that the people laughed at him like mad, he searched the other trees of the village at night but something went amiss.

Once every year, a circus came to their village with a lot of animals.

His friends had taken him to the circus. They showed him an animal that looked like a horse but had black and white stripes.

‘Paaglu, when a black man and a white woman or a white man and a black woman are married, their children are born like this- black and white. You will have children like that… Do you still want to marry the Seth’s daughter?’

‘Aur kya.. Aur Kya.. My mother said that kids are the face of God.. They may look like anything’, he knew that Ganesh Ji also looked like some large animal …

Come the month of Shravan, the girls in the village worshipped lord Shiva to seek husband of their choice. They prayed the God, the banyon tree, sang bhajans on the banks of the flooded river.

Paaglu was sure that he had saved enough coins with the Seth to impress him.

That was a Monday of the month of Shravan. The daughter of the Nagar Seth was certain to be there that morning. He mustered all the courage to get close to her; he pushed someone aside to get closer to her and said those words, “Meri Maa kehti thi….”

The girl was fed up of his stupidity. She was all over 17 now and had been praying for 3-4 years during the Shravan.

The priest had told her parents that Paaglu was the bad omen that defeated the good results of her prayers and that delayed her marriage while all the girls in her age were long married and gone.

She had a plan that day.

‘Paaglu, at night wait for me 10 stairs under the river water on the ghat. I will also come under the water and we will run away so that no one can catch us’, she murmured in his ears.

She just hoped that would do and the menace would be gone.

The next day, the river seemed to be too calm. They discovered Paaglu’s body floating on the bank of the neighbouring village.

He seemed smiling and hopeful even in his death.

‘We shouldn’t have let Paaglu sleep on the bank of the flooded river. He may have slipped’, villagers talked.

They didn’t need to bother for the wood for his pyre. He had money with the Seth by then. He may have repaid the coins that the Sethani had given for his mother’s funeral. The surplus belonged to the Seth. He was happy for so many reasons.

 II

Barely 2-3 days after Paaglu died, another sad event happened in the village. The eldest daughter of the village carpenter died after falling in one of the village wells.

She had once fallen from the roof of her hut, while helping her father replace the broken red tiles. She had badly split both her lips in front, broken her front teeth, and the nose too. She looked atrociously ugly after that and had ‘earned’ that name ever since- Bhaddi. She even stammered and no one liked her, including her poor parents who always worried who would marry her and why?

She hardly mattered to anyone, even for a small village like theirs where everyone knew everyone else. All sighed with relief that she did not live after 19 to embarrass them more.

Their village was a conservative village. Winds from the west and the city had not caught on them. They still married their children around 14-15 years. ‘Bhaddi’ and Paaglu, the two exceptions were snatched by the all merciful God. Nagar Seth was a God of his own and could handle his family affairs.

But unlike Paaglu, Bhaddi had brain and she could think. She had feelings too, though no one to share those with.

She exactly knew what Paaglu went through every time the daughter of Seth snubbed him and the whole village laughed. She knew that he went through something worse than death. He couldn’t sleep for weeks, cried and tossed night after night on the sands of the ghat.

She herself had just managed to ask Paaglu once.

‘Why can’t you think of marrying some other girl? Why just ‘her’?’

‘How can I? My mother will be so angry. And there is no girl like ‘her’. She had once smiled to me’, he proudly told.

She felt that had been rejected by the man whom she loved so madly.

That night she could not blink her eyelids once. Her heart was overburdened with grief. Breadth was not reaching her lungs and she was all numb and shocked. She felt that huge dry mountains were crashing upon her, and she laid buried under them- willing to die but unable to.

She had become so disappointed with that that she had seriously planned killing herself. How could he not love her when she loved him so much? Why could he not look into her heart and beyond the wretched smile of that woman?

‘She’ knew love sees no reason for love. It is a divine grace endowed upon some. So she was not angry with him as it was her fault and her parents fault that they didn’t tell him everything.

Ever after, Paaglu’s rejection by the Seth’s daughter would be her rejection. She empathized with him. She connected with him. She remembered what she had gone through once when same had happened. She could feel what Paaglu went through. There was some invisible bond between them. When he wept in the darkness, she too passed every such night with a sinking heart, apprehending the worst to happen.

True to her love from the depth of her heart, she did her bit as much she could.

Paaglu didn’t know that she was the one who lit that last Deepak on the dehri of the village temple. The one that was meant to give him hope amidst all hopelessness, the one that guarded him from all dark evils on those dark nights.

Bhaddi had observed him since years, growing up. He too was her last hope. She lived in hope that one day Paaglu will notice her and realize that ‘they’ were made for each other.

Paaglu was her hero because he had indomitable courage. While she could not muster courage once to tell him her heart, Paaglu never shied. Though later, she realized, he actually had fallen in love with his infatuation.

That is what love is- falling for the wrong person.

She often thanked God that Paaglu was blessed with less brain. A person with full senses would either become violent or would lose all hope, unlike Paaglu who was infinitely patient with the Seth’s daughter. 

‘Does he have no feelings or less feelings or does he hide his pain behind his dumbness. Thanks God that men had fewer emotions as compared to women or he would have died of grief. Or was it otherwise or why would the Seth’s daughter be so evil to Paaglu?

In her turn Bhaddi had lived in his love, every moment of her life once she realized how mean the world was to her and to him.

She felt that her breadth spelt his name, they came out calling him.

The dress she wore, the way she braided her hair, the food she cooked was all discussed with Paaglu. She could not even tell it to him or to anyone how she had lived a life with Paaglu, in stark isolation.

She knew Paaglu was living his dream too. Love is worst when it is true but one sided. You can only explain its correctness and rightfulness to yourself. Or you can only blame yourself.

She got mortified, if she ever saw her idiot stalk that Seth’s daughter. Her heartbeats would stop at the thought, what if she said ‘yes’.

Fears and apprehensions engulfed her. She would sweat in winters and could only breathe properly when her father returned with the ‘joyful talk of the village’ of the ‘fun’ created by the fool.

Did they ever feel what she or Paaglu went through in their worlds?

But for some reason she feared losing Paaglu. First, she knew she would never be able to tell him about her feelings. Second, he would never understand. Third, her family members already treated her as an object in the house; they would not care to find a ‘solution’. Fourth, the Seth’s daughter or any other girl would take Paaglu, one day or other. The inevitable could befall sooner than later.

Paaglu was the strongest and fairest young man in the village. The daughter of the Seth was dark. Stupid idiot, he loved her for her dark eyes. The same ones, which would not look upon him.

Even the Seth wouldn’t deny that Paaglu earned more than any wise man of the village, only if they didn’t cheat him.

And there was Bhaddi, the most educated girl in the village. She was 4^th class passed and wouldn’t let anyone cheat Paaglu, only if he allowed her by his side.

But wishful thinking cannot replace the reality. She felt the stress that was building in. There is a limit of the emotional stress one could take. Behind the calmness of the surface of the sea, there could be a storm hidden. She didn’t know who would cave in first- she or Paaglu. She wanted him to fight as long as he could. His fall would be her fall.

Her haunting was to come to end with Paaglu’s. For one last time, her father had brought the spicy news of the village. For a change, Paaglu had learnt to keep secrets. He didn’t tell what transpired between the Seth’s girl and him. But the part of the secret was out that he was planning something really stupid. He had bought a pink bridal saree, with golden border and stars stitched on to it.

Bhaddi had cried that whole night. She knew that her worst fears were to come true. Her Paaglu was to leave her for someone else. Leave her forever. She always knew that Paaglu was the best. Why didn’t she die before he left her for someone else? She had no need to go and lit up that deepak on the temple at the ghat. She knew that the darkness of night would help her Paaglu fly away with his lady love. She wanted the very best for him in his life.

The morning brought no surprise; Paaglu was missing from his abode at the ghat, though the Seth’s daughter was still there in the village and ‘very happy’. Then, was it some other girl?

But if the night was devastating, the afternoon was heart wrenching when the body of Paaglu was brought back from the river bank of the neighbouring village.

They said that he was still gripping that pink bridal saree close to his heart, as if it were the woman herself who never loved him.

Bhaddi’s whole world crashed with that news. With Paaglu, all his dreams must have died. The haweli that was built somewhere on the tree was washed away in rain. The children with black and white stripes may have drowned too. Whatever was to be bought from Paaglu’s savings was in the depth of the river now…..

Bhaddi knew every desire of Paaglu, better than he knew himself. She wished that she had just gone once to that damned ghat to light up that Deepak. May be she would have noted the Seth’s men throwing Paaglu into the river. Or maybe he slipped and needed a hand to pull him out of the swollen river. Did he call her name while he struggled in the water?

How did it matter what she did all her life, when she was not there when he needed her the most. It must have been the most painful death. Yet they said that he was smiling.

In what hope was he smiling? Did he believe that bad fate and events will change by his death?

Bhaddi felt it was all her own fault for the fate of Paaglu. His fate was tied to her fate for 7 lives, if not more.

That was her opportunity. She could still catch hold of him before any other girl. She just needed to drown herself too. He would surely see her going through every bit of pain that he had gone through. May be he will realize that his pains were never his alone. Someone had lived a part of his life as her own.

Paaglu could not prove the truth in his love to anyone; atleast she could prove it to him.

That night she jumped into the deepest well of the village.

III

Wherever Paaglu may have been after his death, maybe he had noticed the girl dying. May be he felt honoured to see being loved so much by someone. One thing he never knew in his life. One thing, that prettiest girl in the village, the daughter of the carpenter, never told him.

May be they met in the afterlives. Atleast their fates had met.

But the daughter of the Nagar Seth would never know.

She had been told that for a successful marriage, a girl has to break a heart full of love. She had to sacrifice the man who loved her the most. There was no doubt that Paaglu loved everything about her so madly. So he was sacrificed. She really wanted Paaglu to die. 

She feared that the secret could be out one day that every time her guards scared Paaglu away, she lured him back with her smile. She loved his desperation, all that attention and the talks around the village. Poor idiot believed that she actually loved him though she just prompted him for fun.

But she knew that Paaglu was stubborn alive. She feared if his soul was equally strong. So she wanted to ensure that after his body, his soul should also die. She bought a small doll from the Shravan fair and a sharp knife. At home she stabbed the doll with the knife till the time every piece of cotton wool was spread around.

Having asked Paaglu to wait for her- 10 steps under water on the village ghat, the girl with the beautiful dark eyes awaited for the prince of her dreams to come and take her.

For You

He was a Collector of talents!! Well to others !!

In fact it never mattered to him if he was that !!

He just wanted to be himself !!

Good, Bad, Evil or whatever they thought of him.

He had been through his own experiences of life. May be they were so, more because of his low IQ than anything else. He came from a humble background and didn’t pretend to be any different.

He was very much from the race of the humans and from amongst the almost extinct clans, the ancient warlike ones… Their weakness flowed in their veins…  The blood would rush into the head and they would react first and think later…

That apart, as a kid he was taught to believe in God and his Goodness, and prayers etc.

‘If you want anything you ask for it, and God gives it to you’, he was told.

It did work for him, he noticed. Whatever he asked from God, He gave it to him. Well it was so easy that the humans around him got madly envious of him. The envy brings a lot of stories and rumours, and he loved hearing them too ….!!

Things were on a roll for him until one day when a dwarf walked up to him that in the land of the fairies their king- beckoned a Collector, for his daughter.

In the land of the humans, that meant a messenger with a message.

Dumb and stupid as he was, he walked to the fairy and knelt on his knees asking her hand.

She spoke in some strange words in a stranger language and in a strangest tone.

That didn’t sound humble or humility in the human language so it could be humiliation, he guessed. Atleast in humans they did not humbled a man on his knees. A man would only kneel vanquished or before a lady. One had to be given a helping hand to raise him from the ground. That meant friendship in the humans. They expected that from friends.

He tried to reason and talk to her but she seemed to be lost somewhere…. Not sensing or responding to what he was saying… talking to strange people with her back turned to him…

Not even facing a man as he talked to someone was uncivilized in humans…

It was painful and humiliating. He realized that he must have been a fool or a retard to trust the dwarf.

He was in tears when from fairyland the fairy and her clan pushed him down

From the castles of fairyland, with a ‘thud’ sound fell the fool on the ground.

Those moments in the fairyland must have counted for months in the land of humans, but he could hardly understand what happened.

As he tried to fix the pieces of jigsaw puzzle, all he could realize that may be the fairies also drank the infamous manna and that made them believe that everyone else was a punching bag. May be their intoxicated mind was always on a high and everything seemed low and small- the way the drunks battered their wives believing that was brave of them ...

Good that in humans there was a feeling called revenge.

They didn’t mind being blinded in both their eyes if it took one of their rival’s eyes.

And so all he had to do was to stand next to another fairy.

As luck would be the first fairy was furious in her jealousy,

She demonstrated the lack of even the basic power of analysis.

But that cost him his name, fame and all that he had acquired in his life.

But revenge, oh revenge, it was sweet,

If it caused her some pain and her heart to bleed.

Atleast a human would have felt the pain he had gone through. He didn’t know about the fairies and their emotions. They seemed so incapable of thinking or feeling what another person may be going through.

He sat stocktaking what all had he lost in that game, when he realized he had been summoned for depositing his collections by the Lord superiors.

As he walked dragging his feet carrying his caracass, he heard a feeble voice of a fairy in the distance calling him. That sounded more hurtful, even if she were calling for him for she didn’t want the man, all she may have wanted was a Collector.

And that hardly mattered to him.

He was what he was and that mattered for him, being true to himself.

He could feel the fairy curse him, I will not let you live in peace.

That finally was love for her too for sure!!

For only in love one hated them the most, they loved the most!!

It was all square for him- love, pain and anger.

He didn’t mind burning in the flames of hell, as long she burnt there too!!

The Great War

“Bhim ! We are leaving for the ashram now”, said Guru Dronacharya once more in his stern voice.

Little boy Bhim paid a bit of attention realizing that he had been addressed, but still did not care much. He was completely occupied with his bow and arrows, clumsily holding a few of them, pointing all in different directions- even unlike a rookie archer would ever hold those.

The guru smiled to see the angered faces of other boys- Krishn, Arjun etc. They were least amused by the entry of a clumsy archer, full 7 or 8 grades behind them, yet not willing to make way for anyone else to take a shot at the target.

Bhim was an outright 'Mace' boy. He could club almost everything with his blows; and God had blessed him with surplus energy for that. But he liked to participate in almost every other sport, whether he was good at it or not.

Archery was forte of Krishn, and Arjun- Dronacharya’s key disciple.

But somehow that day, Bhim had been too eager to demonstrate his Archery skills to his brothers and cousins. The result was a wounded goat, a ruined orchard where Bhim would rush every time to fetch his misdirected bows, and a wasted session for other princes.

But when did Bhim bother for anyone?

Krishn and Arjun were staring at him since a long time now- flummoxed. It was supposed to be their competition day that Bhim had completely ruined and he was still not relenting.

Other kids will surely complain to the elders when they are back and that worried the guru.

‘Bhim, pack up!’ he roared, ‘the cows have gone back home long back. If you don’t start now, we will leave you behind’.

‘Only these few arrows Guruji’, Bhim raised his fist holding the arrows, without bothering to even turn around and face the guru.

Of course he had been saying the same sentence since the late afternoon.

‘Krishn! Arjun! Anyone dare face the greatest archer once more?’, challenged Bhim. His fair face turned red by the rush of blood.

Oh yes! He loved mutton, and that gave him that colour.

He scratched the arm of someone in the process, and that kid looked into the eyes of the guru raising a question or two.

‘Son, it was a session- for Krishn and Arjun- that we came for. They were nice enough to accommodate you despite your uncalled for interest; and look- they still are not complaining. You have had your own sport since years; not happy with it?'

'Guru ji', murmured Bhim.

'It is not in the fairness of good princes to have everything for themselves’.

Bhim knew that, but he still was impatient to hit the target atleast once that day. He feared a terrible time in the ashram, been bullied by the other boys for his stupidity. He still was not willing to accept that his greed had ruined the day for Krishn and Arjun, and so was unnecessarily searching with full gusto to prove a point.

‘But Krishn wanted to play with me’, he explained.

‘Not today! he just didn’t want to dishearten you or be harsh to you. You landed on this pitch uninvited; he just received you with respect and sympathy’.

The Guru gave a big lesson to the small kid in a very polite way.

'Yes! Yes! He has been pampering this dumb boy instead of playing with me', said Arjun in a sudden outburst.

Krishn intervened, realizing that enough was enough and that the guru was not able to tackle Bhim appropriately, ‘Guru ji, may I start with the other boys for the ashram. Guru Maa is waiting for us for Arjun’s birthday feast. If we are late, there might be nothing left for DINNER’.

The last word did the work. Bhim could feel that his tummy was burning with the urge for some yummy food.

Krishn was wise, or the wisest. Dronacharya knew it, but the guru had to have the last word.

‘Kids, when the game gets over, just as the war gets over after the day, the players and the warriors return back. Bhim, let us get back, NOW!!’.

Unwillingly Bhim dragged his feet, to keep pace with the group as they started back for the ashram.

Guru Dronacharya was amazed that he had himself forgotten that it was Arjun’s birthday, while Krishn had not. Krishn had not wished Arjun for the whole day, as they were two warring factions for the day. But he had a certain fondness for Arjun and he never forgot anything.

????

Watched the EURO 2012 final and semifinals (and so also the earlier matches)

It was inspiring to see the smaller Italians outrun the stronger Germans in the semifinal; determination at its best. They fought aggressively for the ball possession everytime the Germans managed to claim it. They certainly won atleast one new fan by football like that (since in my memory from the ITALIA 90 days Italy was etched as a very defensive team).

But it was sad to see the same side against Spain in the final match, where they could not even jog at pace, leave aside running for the ball possession. One could clearly see a very exhausted team from the very first minute of the match. No wonder their heriocs in the semifinal had drained them so much, since they had put more than 100% in the semifinal match.

While everyone is praising the Spanish team, I think Italians were certainly a better team than the 0-4 scoreline of the final suggest.

Just could not resist to write this after watching the replays again of the 2 matches in quick succession on the TV and where the difference in their energy level is so obvious to note. It looks like injustice of some sort.

In any case, Thank You Italy for giving me motivation to write something here. It is not some old memoirs, about the injury gathered at ISB or the school days- but just some rejuvenating football of the semifinal match and some crisp powerful shots of Balotelli.

Like the School, Like the FB !!

I’ve learnt in last 2 years that Facebook is like a school.

The first reason is that all the lessons go over your head. More often than not an average student like I am completes a session confused ki aaj ka lesson tha kya !!

Secondly, like exams in school are never straightforward so also communications of some in FB are always shades of grey. Only God knows why their communications continue to be like puzzles which only the creator can phrase and interpret.

Thirdly, as teachers come uninvited (from the perspective of a poor student like I have been) one by one in a class, unknown people send friend request on FB and then assume role of preachers- and sermon in cohesion/ succession, completely unwarrantedly. I know this is a tricky point because education is important in life, but with communication style as mentioned above, the lessons are all lost in waste.

Lastly, teachers in schools and bin bulaye friends on FB believe in adopting violent means for teaching pupils ‘a lesson or two’. And more often than not when one finds some furious aggressors, one may be completely unaware as to what was the cause of their hostility.

Maths on/ and FB

Have you ever noticed that in a subject like Maths, where most of the problems revolve around finding ‘x’s’ and ‘y’s’, finding that ‘Ex’ does not exist is not the tough nut to crack; it is the ‘why’ that remains the non-solvable part- both in school and in FB.

For example, if x assumes the value x, and x (still) = gloomy faced then finding ‘y’ is the complication; since the value ‘x’ assumes is by its own making, a smiling happy face should not be too much to hope for; or is it? But when that does not happen, you only end up searching y, y, y?

Besides Algebra, FB user also has a fondness for statistics. Messages like, 97.48% users will not post it on their wall, but if you care for Cancer patients- post it on your wall, are offensive. Firstly, these are no genuine statistics and by evening the same person would have put the same statistics for another disease and/ or something totally unconnected. Secondly, these are non-sensitive comments of non-serious people towards the disease, those who are suffering from the same and those working for the cure. Thirdly, such smart @$$&$ try to do some sort of a psychometric test for their fun which is disrespectful to those who genuinely want to support the cause and respond to their posts.

However, while there are a lot of similarities between school and FB, there is also a large difference in the school environment with respect to the FB. While in schools most of the time there is a discipline and code of ethics, the same is absolutely missing in FB. And if you recall, a lot of issues got settled during the recess time in school, the same option is not available on the FB :)

But despite all the handicaps, schools and FB are good social networking institutions. What says you?

Change of Station

I lost all the numbers in my mobile phone along with the phone, once I shifted from Delhi to Kolkata. And my favourite pastime sending SMSs has become more difficult under the changing Government policies.

Now in case, if you are a friend with whom I couldn't talk, while you didn't care to, I can safely say "Looooong Time"

Just to add, if you are doing well and are so happy about it, I am really very happy to hear that; and that comes from the depth of my heart.

And in case if you are not so happy, I am rather sad for two reasons: firstly, that you are sad and secondly, that you did not share if with me.

And so life goes on !!

I'll be in Kolkata during the Durga Puja since a small kid, my junior in service, has happily transferred his protocol related charge to me for these 10 days and left for this long vacation. Happy Durga Puja, May Gods and Goddesses Bless All !!

Scribbling on a Lazy Saturday Night !!!

Slept till late hours in the morning . That was the beginning of a much pleasant weekend after spending last one in Office.

With the Corp filing figures’ surpassing last year’s by over 2 lakhs in the Peak Filing months of Oct and Nov, we’ve had a perfect filing spread over these two months which is a great satisfaction.

More importantly, the Project team is great and we have just delivered a perfect text book performance with the system- and the figures justify that. Everyone is gung-ho that nothing untoward happened as in the last 3 years and all the previous filing records have been shattered.

It was a physically exhausting period though, and that is more to do with daily driving and metro travel accounting for over 3 hours a day. Sometimes I worry about the driving part- I believe in safe driving but hate it most when someone breaks the rules and tries to speed past me when I am not in a good mood. A car from the stable of ‘Mustang’ makers and a mad man behind the steering is a terrible combination, unluckily in recent times which has been a routine.

In between, I also suffered from high temperatures and viral fever which resulted in my father land in Gurgaon and I was packed back to home in Agra for a couple of days. Stumbled across an old batch booklet and noticed someone toasting a right turn; sadly we can’t carry the track on the left and people there with us in time, after having taken a right turn.

Also made a small resolution to self (Jan is only a month away) - will not spend as much time on Facebook; and have also started following it.

It was good to see so much happiness come in last few months in life of some of the people I have known- their bundles of joy, their houses, their cars and their better halves.

Professionally, another great project proposal is being worked upon at the very top level and I am making my bit of contribution- keeping fingers crossed and mouth shut at the moment. At least one half of my life is in a picture perfect condition.

Regarding the other half, am learning from others’ actions (Too stubborn to learn from my own). There is a point of time in life when someone else is all yours to lose and often people do manage to achieve that. Sitting beside a storm, only some voices get heard; maybe you are lucky !!!

Memoirs of a Lost World

The interval in the school was over. That is as low a point in a day in School, as any other.

But that day, it was worse! The reasons being, firstly, the Recitation examination was lined up in the next class and secondly, in an unfriendly bout with the rival group, Amit had lost one of the buttons of his shirt, and the shirt was more brown than white now.

People were coming and reciting any one poem out of the three selected for the exam. Amit was fervently trying to learn the smallest poem as the exam continued. His Sir Name had many advantages, to appear last for reciting the poem - as per the alphabetical order- was one of them.

Boys will be Boys!!! Even the person who used to come first in the class was miserable in reciting the poem. English poems were a torture for most, as their vocabulary in that language was THREE strong- a yes, a no and third their own name (which was language "insensitive", we noticed).

We hated girls on the Recitation day; somehow they managed to learn poems too well.

That Recitation Exam day was no different. Little boys were running here and there for protection, which did not exist, until the roll number proceeded and their name was called. However, they were all lucky in a way that the teacher was not asking them to recite the longest poem- a full one pager, until the tragedy fell from the hell.

A young lady had walked down the aisle to the teachers table. She held her palms together at her chest height, bowed before the teacher and before a stunned class started reciting the longest poem. The poem only stopped when the last word had been spoken, without a single error and then she completed the poem with an AMEN.

The entire class was zapped, one full poem!!!! One full poem and AN EXTRA WORD! AN EXTRA WORD, where the hell did she get to read that extra word????

All the little boys were shattered. Their worst fears had come true. The teacher had a mighty praise showered on that girl and then she started asking her other class 3 kids to recite that voluminous poem.

The girl who had completed that poem was a permanent heart burn for the gang of boys. She had also been made the class monitor for one day, just one day. The reason was that the teacher had got too suspicious that the class that made most noise in the school was hers. She had been arguing with the other class teachers that her class monitors, Mr Aziz, one Mr innocent and One Mr Kolhi were the best of all monitors.

We on our part had one of the three of us peep out religiously- out of the class door, and alert the class as soon as the teacher appeared on the turn of the corridor and the thunders would die down immediately. But the teacher decided that it was time she also tried three young ladies for the job.

Somehow, with my limited experience, I have a feeling that the girls have a strong desire to set the things in order and in discipline at the word go. Our new monitor had been too excited at her role and right after the first period of the day when the class awaited the next teacher, she had threatened someone to sit down as he had stood up settling his books.

The poor guy was not even talking and so could not realize that the warnings hurled were directed at him. The monitor had then angrily hurled the wooded blackboard duster at the boy, who being a good player of our team had nimbly shifted aside. The speeding missile had hurt someone else’s head, bounced from there and shattered one of the classroom window panes.

The boy who had ducked was all smiles and stories as to how he had seen hundred enemy horses coming and killed them all. The guy who was hurt and bleeding was cool and calm for the obvious reason that he had a story line and evidences and witnesses to produce before his mother that he didn’t deserve another bashing at home for being punished in the school.

And of all the people on earth, who was crying and raising the sky on her head?? The monitor!! Two neglected boys were comforted by their few team members, ‘well done buddies’ as the whole class saw a yelling young lady being cajoled by half a dozen teachers.

Three monitors lost their first job within hours of acquiring it.

But a Recitation Exam is not a place to take revenge!!! What if eight years from then you would be able to mug up the whole Julius Ceasar and our Hinglish vocabulary would still be three strong, a ‘yes’, a ‘no’ and our name. But we would still deserve mercy and respect! And for sure hitting a man below the belt is unethical.

The boys were hurt, emotionally hurt. One Long poem recited correctly, folded hands, a bow and ONE EXTRA word, it is almost blasphemy.

Amit had lost all hope that day. He had, on that rare occasion, even given up hope of being able to learn a couple of paragraphs of the smallest poem to manage a 4 or 5 out of ten.

That day, his roll number had finally come. The teacher had also given him a choice to recite ‘ANY’ poem, but the colour of his shirt and the missing button had diverted her attention.

‘Ye kisne kiya’, she had asked.

‘Us kutte ne’, the student had eagerly replied pointing to someone, expecting some justice from the teacher.

The teacher had just slapped ‘DO futte’ at his bottom and asked him to go and sit back on his chair and speak no further (Lucky Naa) .

The boys were confused as to what had gone wrong for their friend to deserve those ‘Do futte’. But they were intelligent boys, so they had concluded that it was clear that the teacher was Mommy of that ‘&*%’ who had broken the shirt button otherwise why should she beat Amit instead of her own son.

They were so happy with that discovery. If your biggest enemy has your class teacher as his mom, how miserable his life would be.

So they had decided, they were all winners at the end of the day!!!

Gwalior visit

From Jai Vilas Palace

Sun Temple Gwalior

What should someone who is outstation and travelling 20 days in a month do when he gets a 3 days break for Christmas?

I think he should travel some more. Hence, this vist to Gwalior and a few photographs from there.

The Archeology Museum in Mriganayani's Palace

Buddhist and Jain Rock cut caves in the hill

Gujari Rani (Mrignayani) Palace and fort above.

Man Singh met Mriganayani (his ninth wife) in a hunting expedition, where she saved his life. One of the terms of the marriage from the lady was that she would drink water from her forest river only. A canal was dug till the foot hill and hence her palace here while the main fort is visible at the hill top.

View of Gujari Rani's Palace from the Fort above.

Open Air Hall in Man Singh Palace.

The Pillars behind had oil lamps lit for the night, the screens had hundreds of glasses stuck and so the place would brighten up due to reflections in the night.

Music Hall (8 Screens above for 8 Queens)

Man Singh Palace








From Jai Vilas Palace

From Jai Vilas Palace

From Jai Vilas Palace

Rani Laxmibai's Samadhi

Tomb of Gaus Mohammad

Tomb of Tansen

One has to visit the Gwalior Fort and the ruins that lie therein with a learned guide to feel the pulsation and vigor of the love story of Man Singh with his ninth wife, the rustic ‘Mriga Nayani” who had killed a wild buffalo to save a stranger who happened to be the king.

Love, War, Jauhar- It’s all written there in these buildings, which themselves are in a most undesirable state of preservation under the ASI.

Despite being only about 120 kms from Agra, I had not been to Gwalior city before. I discovered it to be a must visit place with its beautiful buildings and sad stories around those.