Maine jaana tha jisko

Maine jaana tha jisko, woh kitna jinda dil tha,
Kab se woh shaksa, jindgi se be-zaar ho gaya.

Woh to kitna hansta tha, woh kitna hansata tha,
Kya Sadme se gujra hai? Jo Shaayar bhi ho gaya.

Maine dekha tha kal usko, pakad ke haath baitha tha,
Kise doondhe hai lakiron mein, hai kaun kho gaya?

Jise dekha hai jahan mein, apni-apni kahta tha,
Kabhi poocha hai us se bhi, aakhir kya ho gaya?

Jab hum mile the pichli baar, woh but-parast tha,
Jaane kya gujri hai idhar- ki woh Kaafir ho gaya.

Kya bhula tu khuda? Sajde tere dar pe karta tha,
Kyun tere chahne walon mein, naam ek kam ho gaya.

Memoirs of a Lost World- 6

The ‘Hansa’ flew and Friends

During my posting in Bengal, on my visit to the District Judge’s office of one of the districts I saw that our law teacher Prof. Dada Banerjee had been posted there long back. I wonder what could be the reason that he joined Academics when he would have reached the High Court at least. But people make choices in profession and in their lives which they alone know better.

But in Mussourie I was more worried about my horses and had left it upon life to monitor my learning under its careful supervision. And that evening I was again trying to improve my riding skills and there was a golden opportunity. We were moving to another huge sports ground (where our sports events used to take place). The instructors were interested in taking us there as the March past during the sports meet were held there.

The route was also beautiful- we passed through a Buddhist School and monastery with thousands of small colourful flags on its top. Then we had to take a u-turn on a mountain turn where the horse shoes were slipping on slippery stone-road. As the space was less we had to move the horses on the outer edge of the road and just on the right was a deep valley. We were told to keep the horse pressed from the right by our right leg so that even by mistake it doesn’t make a movement on that side. This was a sensational and I felt a feeling of fear.

Then as we entered the huge field we were taught the ‘next gear’ of the horse and that was ‘CANTER’. Since Trotting was an uncomfortable, bouncy and slow movement, we were eager to learn something about this faster movement. The trainers demonstrated to us a stepping in which the rider does not have to rise and sit with every footstep of the horse (so much relaxation for the thighs). The movement was what we had been waiting to learn all these days because this actually was the ‘run’ or ‘race’ of the horse.

We were also told that the next gear would be ‘galloping’ where the horse moves at maximum speed. The cantor probably was slower but it still made the horse and its rider a pleasure to watch as they ‘flew’. But none of the Officer trainees could make the horse walk in the right gear that day, for which all of us and our trainers were disappointed.

On the way back, I could notice that my horse ‘Hansa’ was eager to say something to me. As the trainer in front of me again made his horse to ‘Canter’, I being second in the group also tried to put Hansa on cantering pace. Somehow the horse (the best one in Academy, I believe) which had been unable to coordinate with my instructions whole evening got it right this time. I could feel his feet movement change, it accelerated drastically, the bouncy trotting had stopped. I didn’t need to lift my body again and again and as I could feel the ‘weightlessness’ Hansa gradually began to soar on the steep upward slope.

And as Hansa was speeding on the slope, vigorously moving and jerking his head, I knew that he was enjoying himself. What I was realizing is that either I could stay saddled or even if I rose on my feet in the stirrup, the body remained balanced. And was it my excitement or the chill air coming in my face or the ‘Ahir’ in me, I stood in the stirrup with my knee bending (you feel it, the correct positioning, nothing can be taught) and the torso bent forward as I felt that was safest for me and fastest for my horse.

The first two horses cantered all the way to the riding field. Once the whole group was back, our second Master trainer who was next to I in the array was very happy, as he told Hansa had a perfect canter run. Their training had been successful. And it was then he told me that I was standing in the stirrup. And when I asked if it was wrong, he said that it was text book perfect because the horse was climbing the slope and then the shifting of the body weight to the shoulder of the horse makes the horse comfortable to carry the rider. And thus the super fast speed generated by Hansa. I went to the stable of the horses to leave my horse back that evening. I fed him with ‘jaggery’ by my own hands, removed the saddle and the stirrups and the horse was all sweating and so was I in that Mussourie winter.

Finally I came back running, excitedly climbing steep slopes of ‘kachha’ hill tracks until I reached the Computer Centre. And I was so delighted that instead of going to my room for a bath, I ran to our ‘common room’. In the evening so many people used to sit and play carom or chess or just listen to music in the common room and I wanted to tell mt friends about my evening ride. There I was attracted by a large group where a palmist in our batch was reading the palm of a beautiful young lady.

Most of the lady OTs used to wear Salwar suits or Sarees in the classes and on the campus. But the lady whose palm was being read was one of those rare persons who had a much ‘bindaas’ dress code and attitude. And the palmist was reading just that as I could make out, ‘An outright extrovert’, ‘You want to make a lot of friends’, ‘Not hassled by what the world says’, ‘A very worldly lady with little space for emotions in your life’, etc. The lady was smiling and nodding her head slowly in affirmation every time and all the viewers cheering the palmist and his predictions, some shouting to be the next for getting their palm read next.

I think I should have kept quite that day and moved away from that place and should have taken a bath. But I ended up saying that all that was said there was seeing the face of the lady and not her palm. The lady burst into a giggle and had immediately moved her palm towards me. I had said very limited things and they are fresh in my memory as ever, first the lady should have problems with her eye sight, second she was extremely emotional and would actually find it very difficult to express her feelings in life and third (probably) she was ‘Sad’.

The reasons were easy to explain, an island on heart line under the Sun finger (eye problem), Head and life line connected to half the palm’s width (very sensitive person, dependent on others) and Saturn finger bent over the Sun finger giving the melancholy feelings.

The lady had stopped wearing the contact lens from the next day and wore spectacles. Her dress code had changed and over the next some sessions, she had so much more to ask me and tell me. She told she was a member of a religious group to which her family belonged, and about the bindings on marriage outside the group, and about the ‘friends’ whom we trust at some point of time.

But, then, palmistry was a skill cultivated by me due to my mercurial curiosity for every thing unknown. I was myself discovering secrets of life. I learnt that people are not what they look on the face value, they NEVER are. One should always be patient in life to discover the realities of life, as they are always exposed sooner than later. Friends often turn out different from our expectations and it is better to develop friendships slowly. I was discovering that ladies are more vulnerable than men and the smarter ones are most vulnerable. However they refuse to accept it in the beginning and no one can teach others, only life does. May be people who showed their palms to me had specific queries and were not generalizations but over the years I have come across such cases in life very frequently.

And I had started rediscovering myself. As for me till then ‘Academics had been extracurricular activity and rest everything was fun’. But people were beginning to look at me with a lot of expectation. And their belief was forcing me to seriousness and sensitiveness, where I was expected to offer more than shear excitement on the sports field.

Memoirs of a Lost World- 5

Understanding Human Relations

It was early October and we had been given an option to either go for jogging or for horse riding in the morning. That there were about 15 horses in the Academy shows the low preference of riding amongst a 220 strong batch. The reasons were obvious, already a few persons had fractured their bones by falling from the horseback, and those who escaped with minor injuries were in much larger numbers. But I liked riding to the limit of madness.

From the horseback I felt I was the lord of the earth. Controlling the horse is not easy; the reason is that the horses don’t believe that the rider should ride them. It had happened on a few occasions that the horse ran away with the rider, breaking from the group, towards the sheds. At times, in the process the riders had fallen from the horseback. Some horses were naughtier, as they could change their stepping to produce more jerks and would toss riders off their back. The moral of the story was that all the riders who had gone to riding ground with romantic thoughts of riding horses while whistling a song had been terribly disappointed, if not hurt.

On the other hand, our quest to tame the animal had just begun. As I already had had pet dogs at our house, I knew that the animals have their intelligence, pride and ego. And in case of these horses I discovered, since they had been ridden by officer trainees, they had come to realize that many riders were not up to the mark. So we were handling a huge animal that was continuously contemplating strategies of throwing us off its back. So there was no friendly relationship between the horses and the riders. And if anyone had to be seated on the horse back, he/she had to establish his superiority over the animal.

With that realization there was a stiff struggle between the riders to identify the better amongst the horses and defend their ownership. I instead was always slow to develop an understanding and so was riding a new horse every day. With all that said and done, I actually was enjoying whichever horse I was riding. The biggest reason being that I hated jogging in the cool winters and drowsing on the horseback was any day a better alternative, even if being riskier. And when we crossed the joggers some would even push their backs to the mountains while making way for us, because that was the farthest they could go from the horse.

I, for one, always felt like offering lift to those who hated jogging, as I did, but it was not possible. So we would pass the joggers in a flash of seconds and leaving them huffing and puffing. While some used to have signs of appreciation in their eyes, others had that of jealously. And jealously there was for certain, because we had automatically been identified into a group that was seen as more daring and macho. There were many who had objections to that but the only way to deny that was to join the riding team and mastering a horse and that was ‘dangerous’.

Another advantage that had come across us was that we were exploring much larger geography compared to the joggers. There were different tracks for the riders through unknown mountain roads and we would often go to some old school or bungalow and break for a cup of tea.

In the evening also the horses would come to the riding ground and the more enthusiastic one’s like I was, would go out again. And since there were few academic assignments- after the riding I would invariably end up in badminton or squash court. The Director, Joint Director and all the Deputy Directors were continuously asking the Officer Trainees to be on the sports fields in the evening.

So one of those evenings when I was sweating on the badminton court and as usual was one of the few who would Lord over it, we had a new guest to the court. She was one of the toppers in the Examination. The lady had come with one of our batch mates and wanted to play singles with him. As we were already out of the steam, it was a good offer and we sat by the side of the court and watched them play and wait for our turn. Somehow their game was not building up as the gentleman was one of the better players in the batch so he offered to play doubles instead and asked me and my partner to play with them.

The game was sort of into few points when the lady suddenly walked out of the court with her friend shocked and chasing her. Owing to my utter ignorance I asked my partner that why did she leave. He had only said, ‘You took her name’. And then when I could not make out head or tail out of that also, he explained, ‘Didn’t I tell you some of the toppers are talking only amongst themselves and obviously she doesn’t know your rank and you took her name to address her’. True, there already were discussions that some of the toppers were not willing to ‘descend’ to talk below a certain AIR or were talking within their service only. But then I had no such complexes and wouldn’t address anyone ‘Ma’am’ and anyway I was ranked 15th, so she had missed to identify someone whom she should have known by her own logic.

It was one of the important lessons I learnt about a profession identified as highly snobbish in attitude, that people had started believing they were superior only due to certain ranks in an examination. If religion, regions and castes were not sufficient- services, cadres and ranks were forming new invisible barriers. Not surprisingly some people posted in distant and difficult states (cadres) were feeling cold shouldered. And people in better cadres were drawing maximum friends from those from distant cadres. I learnt that in the All India Services (AIS) there is a provision called the Cadre Based Marriage (CBM) where if both the spouses are in the AIS then they can be allotted a common cadre. And hence this popularity of the better cadres or the people posted there or the meanness of human relations.

But as carefree I was at that time, I and my friend were by then moving to the basketball court. It was a challenge to us as we had been told that the previous evening a few basket ball players of our section had been hurt on the court, as a gentleman in the other section was playing rough game.

But on the court who drew my attention more was a lady of their section who was shouting at the pitch of her voice, trying to motivate her team as she played (meddled with) the game. More then her game her spirit was worth noticing. And as the fate would have planned the lady IPS officer was by the next year to become my real sister in law, whom my elder brother would marry during their training at Sardar Patel Academy at Hyderabad. Though that day on the court she was very upset with me for my rough game but in future I was to make amends by introducing her to my brother. While another lady who had just walked out of the badminton court had actually walked out of the life of a person as soon as she had entered; someone whom she was so desperately to need in days to come.

Memoirs of a Lost World- 4

LAW

Our classes had begun in full flow. We were being introduced to the minute nuances of the Public Administration, Law, History, Computers, Management and Economics. Our course coordinator and her husband were both from the same cadre. While Sir used to join us on the morning jogging and PT, madam used to come before each class in the first week and introduce the teachers for the class, for the first time they took the class.

In law we had three faculty members, two from the legal field and one from the Administrative service. And all the teachers began their subjects, for example Dada Banerjee introduced Law, Criminal Procedure Code, Indian Penal Code and Indian Evidence Act to us. Our computer classes were very useful. Actually the courses were designed more to develop working efficiency instead of Pass it- Forget it Approach. The basics of Word, Power point and Excel taught to us meant that any communication which I really wanted to be confidential has remained as such in my career so far. Also the location of the computer classes was a fun journey. We had to pass a long distance down the slope covered with thick trees on two sides with a large number of monkeys sitting on them. And the teacher was a Bengali, I developed friendship with him quite early as he was keenly interested in West Bengal cadre probationers.

For management our Guru was an IAS officer with a degree in MBA who later joined the Office of the Prime Minister in his next posting. And our Economics Professor was the ‘cutest’ of them all. A bachelor of over 50 years of age, he had traveled extensively across the world. In the first week he had received the nickname ‘Ricardo’ for his oft quoting some economist by that name.

In the mean time we had become quite acquainted with our surroundings on and around the campus. But our second law class was to unfold before us as a revelation. During the introduction of Professor Banerjee to our class our teacher had already informed that Dada had been the most respected and preferred teacher amongst the officer trainees over the years. But the weekly session-wise feedback of our class had probably gone haywire somewhere, probably we had found LAW too theoretical or monotonous. But today I understand that like an ordinary Indian it was our lack of sensitivity to the law that had made our reaction so cold to the subject.

Today when I compare Civil Services to other careers there is atleast one very big edge that it offers and that is the freedom to act independently. Civil services were not something where dignity of individual and survival was to depend on the whims and fantasies of the boss. We were told that we were appointed by the President of India and he alone could remove us from duty. Rest all was excuses of the spineless or the corrupt to defend themselves. It was discussed amongst Officer Trainees that in our course team we had a lady officer who had welcomed the political master with her sandles for unbecoming behaviour and still such officers had managed to be the most effective officers in the service. But law was to be the base for the success in the service and when such team had felt perturbed by our feedback; there must have been reasons. For they were all taught by Dada and were his diehard fans first and students later.

So when Ma’am was back again with Professor for second time we realized that everything was not OK. The course coordinator made it clear to us that if Professor Banerjee could not develop our liking for law, none would. And that a large number of officers owed their success in career due to their knowledge of law and most credited it to our law teacher. When Professor Banerjee began the topic, he had changed the subject of the session. The topic selected was ‘Crime against women’ and it had set smiles on many a faces.

It was a one hour session during which we had covered the relevant sections of CrPC and IPC and some cases. We had traveled in an hour through the trauma of a rape victim, reluctance of the family and society to come out against the crime. Maladies and weaknesses of the law, role of medical reports, time delays in investigation and judgments, the role of the witnesses and the hostile witnesses along with the role of police, evidences were discussed. The coverage of the inquest of the dead body of a woman dead within seven years of her marriage was also explained, as we were to be directly involved in this as Executive Magistrates.

Professor Banerjee told that truth sits on the lips of a dying person, as he/ she can see the death from his eyes. So the dying declarations were very important to take the guilty to the gallows and for saving the lives of the innocent wrongly implicated. The procedural accuracy was very important otherwise the procedural mistake by a Magistrate could be used as a loophole in the law. Also recording dying declaration was crucial because any neglect or delay by the magistrate/ police or the doctor could mean that the victim may die before giving the statement. In one hour we were told so many things by our Professor who in his shear excitement was at times speaking the statements of some of the victims and at times shouting the call of the helpless to the public from the cases he must have handled first hand.

That one hour of our life, where we were taught by our Professor with tears on his eyelashes, had most of us stunned and shivering at times due to the excitement. We had grown in years, in age and in responsibility, in that one hour. We had matured as persons and had taken a giant step towards becoming the Magistrates. We were lucky to say the least. Law was no longer to remain bore and dull for us.

A visit to my home town

You can only write when you are in a mood to write. At present I am not, but still I love to talk to myself and writing is one way I do it. It was a long time since I stayed at my home for such a long period (about 8 days). May be it was over 7 years. And to be back to your home is always wonderful. And I could not help myself being back at the house’s rooftop with my kites. It sounds so funny to me too, but really, home is where your childhood comes back.
This time my visit to Agra was full of small journeys, had to go to Election Commission twice. It was nice to see that people still want me there. I also went to Meerut and some Government offices. Luckily the things were taking place very smoothly. I realize the difference in the treatment, than the one, I used to get in these offices when I used to go to collect my TC or some other certificate as a student. I wish every one gets the same treatment in Government offices, but all your wishes don’t come true and this one won’t.
As a good news, on this 14th November (Children’s day), my mother was an invitee with some 20 other authors of children literature for a meeting with the President of India at the Rashtrapati Bhawan. She did not take me with her and I kept on complaining (joking). As a kid I used to go to her college with her on 15th August and 26th January and the staff used to give me sweets. This time I told mom that one day if my writing improves and if I get a prize then I will not take her to the award ceremony. She laughed, as we all know that I will never ever get a prize for writing, but I am proud of my mother. She has been awarded prize and memento by both the Prime Minister and the President now.
Now in Ahmedabad- Back to academics or back to classroom and to the ‘great’ professors’ wisdom. May be here I will get more characters and plots for my writings and, one never knows, may be some day one of them will get me a prize for writing. And yes, I have written some more of my LBSNAA memoirs but it's too much to type.

SKY WAS THE LIMIT

Some years back when I was at IIT Delhi, our T shirts read SKY IS THE LIMIT. And with a lot of fire burning within us, the statement was neither an understatement nor it was a hyperbole. At best we found it to be a very reasonable statement. While there were people preparing to do the MS from the US, there were others who wanted to write the CAT and certainly there was a whole gang who was preparing for the Civil Services. While the others were almost certain of making it very big, the last group preparing for the Civil was most vulnerable. When people used to ask us, ‘What if it doesn’t happen?’ Fan is what we used to show others, for there was nothing beyond IAS which we could perceive.
Civil Services were not to be a profession for us. It was the purpose of our lives, for those madly motivated ones who had the biggest dreams in life. Reforming a system, fighting the corruption, causing revolution in the society was what we were working for, those night outs after night outs. At that time self motivation was the only way out, a self belief that even those hundreds of books were nothing compared to our caliber and what many were afraid to look eye to eye into, we were meant to take by the horns.
At least fame, name and the raw power was what we were all about to taste in our future, where ever we were and what ever we did. And then why shouldn’t SKY BE THE LIMIT. By the time the result of the Civil Services Exam was out and the Brilliant Tutorials was publishing our photographs in their advertisement, we were getting news of some of our friends getting into the gold mines of the i-banks at the IIMs. That was the time we believed, we literally had cracked three quarters of the competition and the name and fame would be automatic follow-up and that we had been able to frame our destiny, the way we wanted.
It is almost seven years since then. There was little news from any one, even the best friends were lost once they got married and they had little time to respond to your three pages long mails. The change was gradual, from long mails to smaller mails, from daily replies to weekly replies and then replies received in months. But there were some other facts of life. While almost each one was doing well where ever he was, none of us had been able to reach any where close to the sky, which continued to remain a forever challenge.
There were people in research working with noble laureates, people in IAS or IPS, people in Bank of America, Swiss Banks, doing family business but none was able to hijack the headlines of national newspapers or do something out of this world. Only some were earning more than the others while others were happier in their personal lives, though everyone was struggling like an island in self. The stage of expansion had been reached and now the people were consolidating things around themselves, building families, taking care of parents and some even beginning to plan future for their kids.
After seven years when I look back at my own performance, I have no regrets and actually a sense of satisfaction on my performance as an officer. I was the highest ranked in IAS in my IITD batch where over 90% failed to qualify and opted for other alternatives. As an officer in Civil Services, my profile could cause envy even in much senior officers. It was not only the type of postings but the performance which a civil servant dreams of but is rarely able to achieve owing to the tremendous pressure and risk. As a probationer I could improve my rank in the civil list to twelfth. As an SDO in my first posting I could sustain the pressure and threat from all ends and still go ahead and delete 2 lakh voters from 4 Assembly Constituencies when political people will not allow anyone delete even 50 names. I was there when a public sector unit was ordered closed by court and I had to ensure over 1300 staff took VRS in communist Bengal. And I had been told by the unions that even one person can be removed against their will and yet the company got closed against the will of all great and mighty ones.
I got transferred but it gave me an opportunity to handle Polio virus as well as I had handled the associations and unions. And my work was getting highlighted; I was getting noticed in the official and political circles. Despite my reluctance to meet the press, I could see that I had a tremendous image amongst the press. But still sky was nowhere to be touched. And then two cabinet ministers in the Government of India were selected for Parliament from Jangipur and Raiganj, places which had been my ‘Karmabhumi’.
And all this time I could not prevent but appreciate the Maslow’s theory. I had achieved financial stability, may be I had reached very high in power circles. After all sharing the stage and mike with Cabinet ministers two to three times a day is what people dream of as the ‘ultimate power’ belonging to the IAS. Then I was never low on spirituality. But in last seven years my parents had not grown any younger. I hardly got any time to come to home if they were not well or even during the festivals. Even when they came to Bengal, I was busy conducting night raids for collection of motor vehicle taxes. I was always motivated by targets, may be I never wanted to loose or may be those were my purpose of life or my path to touch the sky. Yet my parents never complained.
Yesterday, I went to Agra University with my mother who is a professor there. She was actually afraid to go with me. She kept on telling me that babus will not be available on the seat, I shouldn’t get angry with them. Government offices are not run the way I run them, there will be no officer in the office at 3 pm and she was correct. I told her that I used to sit in the collectorate till 9 pm and it used to be a crowd of visitors waiting to see me even till late evening until the orderlies would ask them to come the next day. And all the politicians would appreciate the revival of the ‘work culture’ in the collectorate.
But I don’t know if I was right or wrong. No value judgment as my staff and officers had tough time with me. The probationers who I worked with used to say during their farewell that they were lucky (or unlucky) to have worked with me in their first posting. May be I forced the rules and discipline into their heads and as they used to say they will never have tougher time in future having worked with the best (having worked with the worst as they would have loved to say.)
I remember last Diwali at Midnapur, even four phones were not sufficient to receive the phone calls which were coming without a break. This Diwali I got only one SMS from Bengal. I have learnt though at a cost, I can say, and that is why I moved for a study leave. I don’t want to touch the sky any more. I want to change my priorities. I was a Government Servant but I had other responsibilities as well and now I want to work for myself and my very small family also, my mother and my father to count the other two.
In Ahmedabad I learnt that there are no free lunches. For me absolute power was the reward and may be the tens of press reporters who used to sit continuously in the office of Chief Electoral Officer. For others their pay package can be the reward. In IIMA, the PGPs are having their summer placement and there is maximum competition for the Day Zero jobs. But when there can be no free lunch, what would be the cost of a One Fifty Thousand Dollar package? I can see with my experience but not every one sees what I see. As a probationer I was told something similar by one of our Deputy Director. We had laughed, we believed that the senior batches don’t want to separate with power; they don’t want the junior batches to see the real life.
Today I know that most of what we earn, we save in the bank; those are papers- a feeling of contentedness. What we spend is much less, but still people want to earn the most. Not because they want to spend more but because they believe in number hierarchy, in earning and in ranking, and they compete because they don’t want to let others win and themselves be counted as losers. And in the process we end up keeping our joy, our happiness, and our body and soul captives at times. But that is the cost one has to pay if he wants to touch the sky and certainly no one can stop others from attempting to touch the sky. And the sky remains, as it was, the limit, and even if the costs are high- the realization comes only when it is too late to recover them.

The Memoirs of a lost World- 3

First Day in the Riding Ground

Our first week of classes was ending. We had been asked to fill in the lecture wise review forms and we had been asked to take those very seriously. And as we tried to be as honest and judicious in our remarks, our fear was that whether we can criticize any lecture or its speaker or the topic itself. But the forms were very exhaustive and they covered all those points. There was no other option but to give our sincere opinions and wait to see the output. I had seen some sort of reviews in the past also (and may be the idea was copied from LBSNAA).

But in the educational institutions where this was done at the end of a semester, the exercises were nothing more than eyewash as no improvement to the given batch was possible and at times damages were irreparable in certain courses. But as I believe like many others, LBSNAA is LBSNAA and so we were trying our first hand at 360 degree feedback for very senior officers. This was our learning to be dignified and high esteemed in our professional dealings with the seniors also and feeling free to express our view points with conviction and courage.

Back in my room in the Ganga hostel I was sipping the evening tea and the cobbler was trying to persuade me to get a pair of riding shoes prepared. He had been coming to the hostel and taking orders since the day we had reached Mussourie. And I was slightly reluctant in the beginning as I had never done riding in my life. I didn’t knew how the experience would be like and hence trying to avoid the investment. But that was the first day of riding and I could not resist the temptation of booking an order when almost everyone had done it and was then on the riding ground already.

At my residence in Agra next to the police lines, I had seen the horse riders aligned in a march past in groups of three and what many probably did not knew was that the horses are huge and heavy animals and one looks or feels like a toy compared to them. And when I reached the riding ground, I could see that the much famed horses of the LBSNAA were bigger and stronger.

The ground was on the road passing behind the Ganga hostel and actually below the Kaveri (girls’) hostel. It was a valley surrounded by hills on three side and the only side having an opening was the road behind our hostel which bisected the football and the riding ground. It was sloping down in one of the corners and the water there made it look marshy and there were two huge wooded logs which were used for obstacle jumping (by accomplished riders) and that corner looked just out of some cowboy movie. But that day there were over hundred OTs (Officer Trainees) in the ground and it was almost a fair there.

Our main trainers were from the President Guards’ cavalry unit. There were some other 15 care takers of the horses with their horses. Since I was late about 30 minutes, I could see that the field had already been segregated. A small group of 5-6 horses was walking in large rounds in the ground. There was a second group which probably could not keep with the pace of the first group and now the hoses had decided to take the riders for a ride. The horses were now moving around the far corners of the field with their riders sitting helplessly looking towards others to get them down (for which no one was worried). The third group was sitting on the horse back holding the reins and the trainers were holding a long rope of about 20 feet so that the riders could move in small circles. And the last and the biggest group was of those who had given up the idea of learning riding after comparing their sizes with that of the horse.

The trainers were trying to motivate those people to start riding by giving the information that even if half the batch would have fractures falling from the horse back, riding was compulsory in the past. Some how they were not clear as to why their inspiring words were actually de-motivating the budding riders. Then as usual there were young ladies trying to ‘befriend’ the horses just by giggling to them and trying to bribe them by ‘soft grass’. It seemed, however, the horses were not interested or some of them were mares (looking by their stern expressions).

Then there was a group back from riding which was complaining how the skin on their thighs had been peeled off by the rubbing against the horses. One person had already been thrown off by a horse from its back and it was clear that some bones were gone. In totality, it was an atmosphere of fear, disillusion and shock on the riding field in the LBSNAA. To make it worse, there were people who had been in the Indian Police Service previously and had done their riding training there and they made it official that these horses were rough.

And all this while I had been trying to convince the trainer to write my name in the list of people who would do the riding and he had been lecturing me that my shoes were not proper and riding cannot be done in PT shoes or a track suit (a thicker jeans would avoid the rubbing of the skin and peeling off the skin) and that I was late.

But then it was one of those horses which had broken away from the main group with its rider, decided to return the property (rider) to its rightful owner. When the trembling rider got down of the horse, it was clear to all on the ground that horse riding was no joke.

The trainer was however not willing to learn and in his highly enthused tone shouted for the next volunteer to come and mount on the horse. But no was willing to take risk on a horse which had just failed one of them and was now wearing a sporting look. The trainer again asked some one interested to raise hand, but worse still people were not even acknowledging that the name written on the paper was theirs. And as once again the trainer looked at the only raised hand which was mine, he literally snubbed me again, ‘Sir aapke to shoes bhi thik nahin hain, agar gir gaye to stirrup se pair hi nahin nikalega aur ghoda aapko kheenchta hua le jaayega aur hamari musibat ho jaayegi’.

But as no one responded there was only one option and the trainer Kanwar Singh nodded his head to me with a smile. And as I mounted on the back of the horse I felt I was made for it. Sitting on a six feet high horse back, watching the heathens on the ground from the top, I could feel the growing distance. A feeling of pride and arrogance filled me. I began to feel the saddle which was hard but comfortable and reigns which were to be the driving wheel and breaks and stirrups for accelerator on my latest vehicle. (This experience was better than one when I had learnt to drive the scooter, actually not having asked where the break was and using the accelerator as the break since the breaks were to be found there on a bicycle).

The trainer was giving more inputs- keep the reins short and the horse will feel your control. To take turn, keep the opposite leg pressing the horse as you pull the rein so that the horse doesn’t feel the freedom of flying off in opposite direction. The grip of your thighs is most important. The horse should feel the master on his back or he will be tempted to throw you off.

And then he asked, ‘aap gol chakkar katoge yahin par ya ground ke round loge’. The horse gave the reply as I had already pressed my heel and stirrup was goading it. It accelerated. While other horses were walking (first gear on a vehicle) behind the trainer, my horse ran in a funny style (which we were told is ‘trotting’). ‘Sir, aapka ghoda trot kar raha hai, dheere chalo’ trainer had shouted. But I and ‘Mastana’ were too excited to join the main group of learners. And I could hear the sound of a roar and claps as my horse was the first to trot that day. It then crossed the crowd as they waved to us with beaming smile.

It was the beginning of a new romance.

Memoirs of a Lost World- 2

A day in LBSNAA

The old wooden office blocks of LBSNAA were burnt in fire long before we reached there. After that the new administrative building, mess, hostels, badminton courts had been built over the years. Yet LBSNAA seemed to had retained its style of teaching over the years with suitable adaptations as and when required.

There was not much stress on going through the massive volumes of text books. Law was the exception and we all agreed that law was one of the most important things for our careers. Most of the classes were taken by our Deputy Directors (DD) who were senior Officers from various services, mostly IAS. The other major portion of the classes were taken by ‘guest speakers’. We had people talking about ‘organizing events’ and like what? Like the ‘Kumbh Fair’ with over a 10 million people attending the event. May be such experiences were the forerunner of what I was supposed to do in future, mobilizing 500 thousand polling and counting personnel as the Joint Chief Electoral Officer of a state and yes, finding that a ‘cakewalk’.

And this is what LBSNAA was preparing us for. I can not help comparing other places with LBSNAA when I see brightest of the students not able to lead even small teams of 70-75 people. In LBSNAA, the figures were in 100 thousands. We were taught to think and act big. I remember the advertisement of one of the premier Tutorials for IAS, MBA and IIT entrance examinations. It blatantly used to state that the best management institute in India is not in ******* but in Mussourie, where you are taught to handle the management of a country (and not a company). And sure the advertisement was right.

There were experts who had converted dry lands into forests, revolutionized the District hospitals and health services, experts from education, cooperative movement and in micro credit and local self Government. The members of our batch of Officer Trainees (OTs) in LBSNAA were from diverse background, coming from Government school with fees of Rupees 2 per month to those taught in the Doon school. And all of them had to be brought to the same platform where they could identify, understand and resolve the problems of over 100 crore Indians.

And for this our day began at about quarter to 5 in morning during the three chilled winter months of Oct, Nov and Dec, in near 4-5 degree temperatures of Mussourie with the first whistle of Rana ji, our physical trainer. And not being to the ground on time meant a punishment of 10 to 30 push ups (Gender bias). And to be on time many of us slept in our track suits with our shoes on. And why not, those tension free cold nights of Mussourie and our warm and cozy beautiful rooms were such a perfect mix for a perfect sleep.

Rana and Prithi Singh (our other trainer) would take us in two groups for a jogging session of 4-5 km in the Mussourie hills. One of our DD would accompany one of the groups. And as the huge group used to run on the road, young and old, those beautiful people would come to a halt and smile at us. However, I was soon to leave the morning joggers group to lead the horse riding team. But till then this was fun and so was it for most of those, fat or thin, who would run or roll on those cool mornings with red noses. And to add this was the beginning of a rivalry between I and Rana ji for I loved breaching his instructions. And when he would goad me to run fast, I would slow down and when he would curse me that nothing could be done to me, I would sprint while others would jog.

I think that the systems should appreciate the differences in the individuals and the spirit of defying the orders one is not genuinely convinced with. For me, every thing that Rana ji did was wrong. And when he would make us do the monkey jumps on non jogging day, after the PT I would start my energization exercises of the Paramhansa Yogananda’s Yogada society.

Invariably I would tell our Joint Director in the Gym that Rana ji’s exercises were against the basic rules of exercise and Rana ji, then sweating, would continue shouting at me. Those last days of immaturity were soon to be lost in the job that would be so demanding in the years to come but those Mussourie mornings and their nostalgia will forever be fresh with us. And to all those who failed to follow so far, those were our lessons in discipline which were taught with a lot of fun, for who would like to leave bed and jog 5 kms in those temperatures.

Back from jogging, there could be only one place to break the meet, ‘The Ganga Dhaba’. People would have the ‘Elaichi Chai’ or a glass of juice and curse Rana ji and Prithi Singh or may be make phone call to their home (mobiles were still not that prominent). And while many would return to their rooms, there would be a few continuing the exercise session to the badminton court, TT tables or the Gymnasium which was world class and the best I have come across, including those in some five star hotels.

Back to our rooms we had about an hour to take a warm water bath in our attached bathrooms (even those appear a luxury today) with soft music playing on the player. And then our hurried run on the steepest slope in Mussourie would start as we rushed to out mess. Our wonderfully designed mess with world class furniture and huge glass windows meant that the break fast would either be amongst the clouds or we could see the snow which was, may be, hundreds of km away but looked at a stone’s throw. I believe that the location of the Academy and the mess in particular is one of the best in the entire Mussourie town for seeing the snow. And there we would have our breakfast as ‘suited-booted laat sahabs’ while the ladies would try a new Saree each day.

Then we had two classes in the morning and afternoon session each split by a sumptuous lunch (About the Law classes with Dada Banerjee, where the content would be real tough, some other day). Then after the classes there were the hobbies session where people learnt Guitar, Synthesizer, DTP, Photography or Videography and so on as per their choice. And are not your hobbies your best friends in life and why not make one if you don’t have one. Those were the days of trying to make the personality as perfect as we could make it, in the LBSNAA.

And after the classes we were served tea and biscuits in our hostel rooms. And people would be hurriedly getting ready to go to the Gym, indoor wooden badminton courts or the squash courts, to the horse riding ground, for trekking in the hills or to ‘the Mall’.

The Mall undoubtedly drew the most of us. We would hire an auto for Rs 15/- from the LBSNAA gate or take an evening stroll. The coffee shops, the momo shops, the Cassette shops and the Konica studio, where we would dump so many reels to be washed every day, were the biggest attractions. Some of us would buy books or a pair of scissors or a cap from the Bhutia market. We would wait for the dinner time to approach and then the group would enter one of those restaurants and the jokes, dinner and fun would continue.

And with the night getting colder the hood of out jackets would cover our heads as we would drag ourselves on the Mall; stopping on the shops now and then, watching the beautiful lights and the decorations. Some times we would get lost in the clouds, following the other friends as we continued to talk to give directions. Then a short break of 10 minutes was a must as we would stop by the railing, almost hanging on it as we watched the lights of the city of Dehradun below.

Those lights are sad someone would say. No they are joy other would reply. Each of those light shows a house or a shop. Think of the families living there. Kids being asked to go to sleep. The ladies in their evening ‘shringaar. May be they also play ghazals in their houses in the evening and the head of the family is sipping coffee after the dinner. Not every one will have such strange preferences, some one else would argue. Think of all the places we would be posted as the SDO and the DMs, people will come to us to solve their problems.

‘Problem! Have you written the order on Section 107?’ ‘No’ would be the reply and we would rush back to out hostel. Assignments would take another half an hour or so with the soft night ragas on. We would check out mail accounts. The silly box on our table wouldn’t take more than 10-15 minutes in a day, unless there was some assignment on the word or excel or someone brought a movie from the library. Too much affinity to the computer was considered unhealthy (sick). We would see our own photo albums or those developed by the neighbours. Some used to write dairies religiously or write a poem or random thoughts.

This was to continue for the first few weeks only because after that with every passing day we would hear the news of engagement of someone. And then they would reserve their evenings for long phone calls from a newly found friend.

Memoirs of a lost world -1

It was my first day in Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration (LBSNAA). We were a batch of about 220 probationers joining about 15 different services. And we were to be there for the next three months together in the ‘Queen of the Hill Stations- Mussoorie’. The whole group had been housed in the three hostels over-viewing the Happy Valley. While the other two hostels had the beautiful sight of the Horse Riding Ground, my hostel gave a full view of the football ground (where our morning PT was held at times)

We were being welcomed into what we had ourselves perceived till the other day as the ‘Government’. And in the background of 7 years experience in the services, I should say we deserved that welcome; for most of us were to won those laurels for the ‘Government’ through our public service in future days to come. But that day it was just for the reason that we had cleared the most grueling examination on earth that we were being welcomed in the LBSNAA. And there we were, each one of us raring to prove his or her superior knowledge and skills in the Academics to the other colleagues (as we were already professionals).

But the Academy had different plans for us. As we were told during our welcome, ‘the course will not focus too much on the bookish knowledge or memorizing the volumes or numbers, because that is what (we know) you all are good at’. What we were being prepared at LBSNAA was to handle the stress situations, learning to build teams and leading them, about group dynamics. And we were to be taught those things through the real life activities like the trekking, village visits, visiting NGOs, adventure sports- river rafting and Para-sailing, visits of guest speakers and the case studies. And the galaxy of speakers consisted of officers, politicians, environmentalists, journalists, social workers, artists, authors, industrialists, CEOs, management gurus, and so on and so forth.

What most of the speakers would discuss were situation demanding ‘raw courage’ under high risk situations, make or break decisions, commitment to duty, integrity in the service and dedication to the cause of the public. And often the clouds in the valley would sit next to the windows of the room trying to peek inside and gather a word or two from the lectures. And we used to sit in our Jodhpur Suits to listen to the mesmerizing words of the speakers; which mostly used to come from their hearts as the causes they had fought for were so close to their hearts. We were discovering that most of our ‘teachers’ were amongst the most illustrious officers in the service coming from across the country. People who had proved their mettle against all adversities in public life when all the problems in the society were being branded on a microscopic minority called ‘Bureaucracy’.

In our group of 220 we had some 53 IAS Officers, 15 IFS Officers and 30 IPS Officers. And what those figures meant? That each one of us posted in a district in Uttar Pradesh (UP) alone will not be able to give UP an IAS District Magistrate in all its districts. And we were a much larger country of over 25 states. But it meant some thing more also; that we were the blessed few who had entered "the Corridors of Power". And we were being warned that POWER CORRUPTS AND ABSOLUTE POWER CORRUPTS ABSOLUTELY.

Don’t let this power corrupt you; you are not the master’s of the land but the servants of the public. In the small towns where you will join as the SDOs to begin with, people will trust you like God. Listen to their problems, solve them for you can do that and you will see old people touching your feet, before you can stop them, just as they do to their God. But just don’t be the ‘Mai- Baap’ of the public, be one of them. The problems you faced as the public are now to be handled by you as the Government. There are so many people who criticize the Government, but there are few who would leave their fat salaries for what you all will get for being in Government.

And we were being respected for our commitment for the cause which forced us to take the biggest risk in our lives, to write the Civil Services Examination, to earn those Rs 8000. And we were realizing that the Government thing had begun to sink into us. And regarding salary as one of our faculty told, ‘if you don’t smoke or drink, your salary will be much more than what you will need to lead an honest and respectable life’. Luckily I qualified the constraints.

And our first salary was shear joy. Most of us bought cameras costing from Rs 1500 to Rs 2200, to make our fond memories of the place and time permanent. And our treasure of cassettes grew and for a change after the phase of preparing for the Civil Services Examination, we were again listening to the songs of joy, love and happiness.

This quiz bothers me

Life is so full of uncertainties. Only when I believed that I had every thing firmly settled around me, I took some decisions or to be honest fate brought me to one of the biggest uncertainties in my life. Something which can decide so many more things.......
I tried to find solutions to the best of my capacity in the smallest possible reaction time. But what is more important now to me is not the solution but the outcome of my efforts. And when I attempted perfect solutions for perfect questions, I can only wait with terrible nervousness for the outcome and hope for the best.
And if three months have not crucified me enough, another 10 days should take their toll. What more? I can only pray. I wish my efforts are fruitful and I am able to answer all those questions which life is posing.
And what if I fail? It would mean the extension of the race and another 3 months of uncertainties. But win I will because I hate to loose and never in the past had the desire to win been so strong.

Building Management Skills

There is no limit to education. There is also no limit to ambition.
No surprise that my ambition driven sabbatical brought me to this place. It is important for me from more than two points of view. A background in Finance will be useful in my future assignments. Then I wanted to associate the only remaining ‘I’ of the three most prominent ‘I’s’ in this country to my profile. And when my dream project, a book on Food security programmes, manages to see the day light; it would rock the world. But till then I had to manage the much feared First Term at the IIMA.
The courses were more useful for the Management Graduates but as a Student in Fellow Programme, I found that the Economics course and the Organizational Behaviour Course had their utility for me too. To begin with I was worried if I would be able to stand the onslaught of the best talent of the nation. But having done my first year at IITD in Mathematics and Computer Applications, I found that there is nothing comparable or even close to the batch of ‘Compu Science’ of SG, KM etc at IITD. It’s sad we still cannot retain those guys in our country.
To my convenience I still could manage to pass the examinations after studying the night before but again there is no AM here and so I miss his notes. I would love to go through his notes in the last 20 minutes before the exam and then help him copy any thing from my copy in return. Any way people slog here a lot and deserve credit for that. I believe I have managed with ‘B’s’ and ‘C’s’ and would get a decent overall score.
The other things that I am learning fast are the management skills from some of the grads. The other day I went to the cricket practice session before the arrival of the IIMB sports team. I loved batting on the net and managed to play some good shots. A gentleman ‘in power’ however was floundering on the pitch after me and was bowled, pardoned stumping chances and was LBW a number of times. I was impressed with bowling of a first year and one second year was impressive in his bowling and batting. However, the next day I didn’t even get a batting session on the net. I took the clue and realized there would be no place for me in the team. Unluckily, the other two guys I mentioned above also did not get a chance to play. As I had expected, our team lost.
This reminds me of my first year in the Aravali hostel, the ‘men’s hostel’ at IIT. Our hostel had won the sports trophy the last year with crossing a record 100 points in the first semester itself. But this time during the election for the post of Sports Secy, our stud boy DT was boasting that he had a team of captains in his wing and he would break all previous records. He won the election but we lost the trophy, we couldn’t even cross the 20 points in total. I wish we had searched for players and captains beyond the sports secy’s wing.
Cricket haunts me, it pushes a lot of adrenalin in my blood. I started playing as a three year old in my elder brother’s team with cork ball as we used to call. And by fourth class we were playing with duce ball and I was the team captain for years to come. So I had little honour of playing the 'Tennis Ball cricket'.
Luckily as PKS used to say I had the blessings of ‘Brahma’ so I could not be got out. The same was the realization of my ASP’s and SP’s when we used to play the DM/SP 11 or the SDO/ASP 11 matches on the 26th of January. People in the Khakee dress have a sense of arrogance about their cricket team which mostly consists of young boys who are selected in the police only for their sports talent. They might have enjoyed toying with the teams of Babu’s in the past. But our SP at Uttar Dinajpur went beyond when he borrowed players from the BSF to supplement his own team and they still lost. At the end of the match he was seen shouting at the umpires that they could not give me out even once.
I agree that the younger players should have better reflexes for cricket and I am older to most of the graduate students here, but I still don’t want to retire myself as a sportsman as players older than I am are playing internationally across the world. So without suspecting anything I went to play for my section (I thoroughly repent my decision) only to see some 20 players lining up to play with the tennis ball. (There were three from our section who went to play with the duce ball). There was a person with keen eyes observing us perform. His own ‘Full toss’ ball went to hit the first floor balcony some 40 feet beyond the keeper.
After having played some 25 balls with only one ball beating me on the off stump and that too missing the stump, wisdom dawned upon me that I was not supposed to be selected. As a response of an opening batsman to the leading fast bowler of the opponent, I hung the ball on the tree beyond the straight boundary, an ultimate humiliation for any fast bowler. I remember that this was also my response to AB in 1999 who was throwing the bowl to me to make it flatter and restricting me to play straight over his head. I still had managed to dig the ball off the wrist and dispatch him over the indoor badminton court and the ball was lost for ever. Even this time the ball could not be traced but the selector caught the opportunity hungrily, ‘such shots are out here’. As expected I could not make it into team which consisted of players who could touch one out of five practice balls, only to throw a loose catch in the gully.
What impress me at this place is the management skills of some of the students which my previous opponents lacked.
First, if you can’t beat a rival, don’t let him play. (Only if Abraham Lincoln had such wisdom, he wouldn’t have kept his major rivals to his left and right so as to have an eye on them. Sadly Indians continue to be pathetic team builders).
And second, randomizations are ‘truly random’.

I wish PKS, AB, DT and Sikandara had such skills, then ‘Brahma’ wouldn’t have been so benefic to me.

Life is a puzzle

Another day passed by unsung and unheard,
At times the hopes rose against all hopes,
Then million moments passed without a word,
And hopes belied, without a ray of hope.


Not an agony, it was the saving grace,
For work kept the wanderer reined and shadowed.
Restrictions defied- the gypsy raced,
To run, jump and hop- on the grass upon the meadow.


Like the swelling river rising, emotions rose, for
The sea was close. Charmed river destined,
To wash off the temple of the lore,
Revered which was with its deity pristine.


And as the river, temple and the deity-
In the infinite ocean loose their identity,
The race against the time will be lost as ever,
Along with the thoughts that were, but were never.

Why do people refuse to speak the truth?

Some one had raised a question some days back as to why do people refuse to speak the truth?

The question was thought provoking and somehow it drew my attention, so I thought about it. What I could think of is a personal assessment, obviously every one will have his own reasoning. But mine is given below:

• Firstly and quite obviously people refuse to speak the truth to hide a mistake or a lapse. This happens due to the fear of punishment.
  
• One very common case amongst people to avoid speaking the truth is to keep the other person in good humour. It assumes they believe that the other person may not take the truth in right spirit.
  
• The third type is complicated, as the concept of truth will depend upon what the seeker may (& wrongly) perceive as truth. Here, there can be a lot of deception if one continues to keep the seeker in dark by continuing to explain him what the seeker believes to be truth and take advantage of speaker's misconceived notion. Sycophancy is a milder form of this category.
  
• The fourth type is most beautiful and the saddest also, as the truth is too sacred to the speaker and there is fear in his mind whether his truth will be perceived with same sanctity. These truths are easily identifiable but difficult to elicit as this will require a lot of reassurance for the speaker to speak those. Here also the reason is the fear of punishment albeit the punishment is not physical but emotional or spiritual.
  
• Poorly placed Mercury in a horoscope can make a person a habitual false speaker. But this may be different from the case of ‘not speaking the truth’ which is different from lying. Speaking falsely is a wide genre which may originate due to financial or other constraints.
  
  
  

Sauda (The Deal)

Aaj uske ghar pe jalsa tha,

Mujhko bhi bulaya tha.

Badi hasti thi uski jo,

Khushiyaan jee bharke lutaata tha.

Hazaaron gam bhi the us par,

Jinhe sabse chupaata tha.

Madhosh mein jo jaa pahuncha,

Socha sauda kar ke aaunga.

Jinhe sabse chupata hai,

Wahi gam lekar aaunga.

Nasha jab mera utara to,

Dekha do gam lekar aaya tha.

Do gam lekar aaya tha,

Jholi bhar de aaya tha.

Khuda jaane kiske nasib se,

Kya sauda karke aaya tha.

Story of a people

The rustic arrogance of the invading Alien,

The El! The history called him the Arian,

The first clans came thru'- the North Western passes,

Settled with their rams and dogs- the warrior masses.

Oh Indra brought thou, the Yadu and the Turvasu

In the land of El-aavart, testified the 'Rig Veda'

Hamlets grew around the rivers 'Sapta- Sindhu'

So grew the country and its people- 'Hindu'

Times passed, to glorify kings, the bards ascribed,

The names and the identity- of the mighty tribes,

Reborn were Yadu, Turvasu, Anu, Puru as the Lunar Kings,

To match their valor came the Raghus of the Solar Wing.

And history saw, through the passes, Alexander the Great arrive,

But against the glory of the Punj Aab*, how could he survive?

History untold, but crystal clear, of the invader's last retreat,

On which his wounded ego or the body, no doctor could treat.

But there were people who pride in inviting Shaka and Yavan,

And also slowly came down the Scythian Caravan.

The land and its people ravished, rewritten was its history,

New kings and clans found, their past shrouded in mystery.

In the fabled land of the east were the caste and creed born,

What was that- the man's greed or God's own scorn?

Whatever be- remained the rustic arrogance of the alien,

The El! Whom the history called the mighty 'Aryan'.

* Aab- Waters/ Dignity

Punj- Five

Sapta- Seven

Sindhu- Waters/ Rivers.

Words

From the enraged ocean of our emotions,

The struggle that occurs within us, our inner strife.

The words are the surfaced waves, our expression,

Our feelings and sentiments brought to life.

The words are mightier than the mightiest,

Some thousand times powerful than the sorceress' charm.

Those that bring true happiness are the best,

Yet spoken carelessly can cause infinite harm.

They can bring relief to the bruised hearts,

As they carry the never dying stream of solace.

They support the distressed when the beloved parts,

And helping the helpless enhances their grace.

We play with words through our crude efforts,

And try that fragments of our thoughts become alive.

Yes, the dust always meets the dust, but fate,

Though we do pass, our words survive.

'chand sher

(A few couplets)

Kya hasraton ki baat karen, kya dil ka fasaana,

Unko nahin hai fursat, duniya ko kya bataana.

(Why should I discuss my desires, or the story (plight) of my heart

Why should I tell the whole world, when the beloved is not bothered)

Jo dard-e-dil na samjhe woh ishq kya karenge,

'Asir' Mashooq ko dil-daar kahte hain.

(One who does not understand the pain of the heart can not love,

'Asir' (captive) says that the beloved is one who has a large heart)

Kitne bhole hain woh jo hamen dekh muskaate hain,

Koi pooche unse kangalon pe moti kyon lutaate hain?

(Look at the innocence , when my beloved smiles to me,

Ask my beloved why the pearls are being wasted upon the wretched)

Hum hanste rahe, hum hansaate rahe, hum samne jahaan ke muskraate rahe,

Din bhar to tujhe hum bhulate rahe, par raat bhar aansoo bahate rahe.

(I laughed, smiled and made others laugh with me, throughout the day

I tried to forget you this way, but alas! at night couldn't stop the tears)

The Eyes

For the whole long grueling day,

To mask our feelings they strive.

At night with darkness when they play,

The deepest emotions get revived.

Then sometimes they get flooded too,

To calmness of night when they speak.

Yet day and night they search the ocean,

That their brine would seek.

Is it not strange that the doors of light,

Within themselves such talents do hide.

Being the source of a gift called sight,

To our emotions an outlet they provide.