Gaurav Sharma Lakhi's Blog, page 3

LET'S TWIST A STORY

आओ बचपन सींचें - 4

चाहे कितने भी बड़े हो जाएँ, फिर भी हम सब हमेशा थोड़े-थोड़े बच्चे ही रहते हैं l नए कपड़े पहन कर बड़े भी इतराते हैं l जन्मदिन पर गिफ्ट पाकर बड़े भी खुश हो जाते हैं l 
जरूरी है बच्चा बने रहना और बच्चों से जुड़े रहना l  


तो चलो आज कुछ अलग करते हैं 
 पहले एक बच्चे की कहानी सुनते हैं 
 और फिर उसे अपनी-अपनी 
कल्पना की उंगली थमा कर 
 एक अलग मोड़ पर ले जाते हैं 
 उस ही कहानी को आगे बढ़ाते हैं ... 

 कहानी English में है 
लेकिन आप चाहें तो 
आगे की कहानी 
 हिंदी में भी लिख सकते हैं 
 न Grammar की जकड़न
न language का बंधन 
 बस ये कहानी और 
 आपकी कल्पना की उड़ान ...
तो फिर हो जाओ शुरू 
 करवा दो रोशन से कुछ ऐसा 
 कि पढ़कर, सुनकर लगे
 हाँ, ऐसा भी तो हो सकता है ... 

 हम सब उत्सुक हैं ....  





LET'S TWIST A STORY


This week we have a story for you- Roshan's story. Read this story and add a hundred words to take it further. A jury will select the best addition and it will win a prize.
So, let the kites of your imagination fly high and bring some twists and turns to tell us what Roshan does next. We are anxiously waiting to read your versions. You can submit your entries by commenting here or by sending an e-mail at aaobachpanseenchein@gmail.com before the sun sets on Thursday, 29th of August.

Please do mention your name and age with your submissions.





Here's Roshan's story for you...


        ADVERTISEMENT ENACTING COMPETITION

Roshan is keenly watching all the advertisements today because he has to participate in an advertisement enactment competition tomorrow.

He has been outstanding in Quiz, Essay writing, and Poem-Recitation. His brain never lets him down. However, enacting an advertisement for selling a product is a different ballgame for him. Here, his appearance would matter. Synchronization, content, and performance would be the key. 

Unlike every other day, he isn't fighting with his sister for the TV remote. Neither does he urge her to switch to his favourite cartoon channel. And, even stranger is that he looks at the TV screen only when the ad break comes and scribbles in his notebook as he watches the advertisements. He reads the notes when the program resumes. 

He looks nervous. Tomorrow is Saturday. He has to put on the white uniform with white canvas shoes. His uniform should not be shabby. He runs out of the room and returns with his rundown canvas shoes and the bottle of liquid polish.

                    One thick coat and his carefulness change the look of the shoes.

The morning dawns. He is shaky as if it is the biggest test of his life. His competitors in the class always say, 'You can beat everyone in academics but we will settle the account in dramatics and sports.' He knows that they are better in these fields but he wants to give them stiff competition.  

The school auditorium is full of cheer and anticipation. The non-participants, sitting on the carpeted floor, are eagerly waiting for the participants to enact the same advertisements which they watch on TV with some innovation. They expect a great show from their talented peers.  The stage is about four feet high. Eight participants, two from each house are sitting in the right corner. The sweat of nervousness has appeared on their red faces.  The hall is beaming with life. Its lonely and hungry walls cherish the whispers, giggles and childish nimbleness.  The announcer reaches the lectern. Her greeting words mingle with the elated utterances of the chaotically busy audience. She repeats louder. Silence and stillness follow.

 "Every participant will pick up two chits. Every chit has the names of the products. He or she can choose one product and will have to enact an advertisement for it," she reads out the rules. The four judges are ready with their pencils and heedful eyes. 

 Roshan is the first to go up. He draws out the chits from the bowl with trembling hands. He unfolds them one by one and mumbles, "Shoes and Ketchup." He thinks for a while and hands over the 'Shoes' chit to the announcer. Her lips read the word to the mic for the audience to hear. 

          He nods to the announcer's signal to start the act.

Roshan parades forward from the back of the stage saying, "Bata is the best quality," he jumps, "My sports-shoes, school-shoes, and party-shoes." He runs back and repeats.

 "There is a hole in your Bata shoe-sole," someone in the audience shouts and guffaws. More taunts and laughter follow. Rohan freezes in the middle of the wooden platform. His toe feels the cold polished surface as he walks away.................

                                                                                                     ( Story by Gaurav Sharma )



Now, it's your turn to add to this story. What does Roshan do next? How does he respond to this insult?

Come on, we are eager to know where you end this story.


*********************************************************************************




Let us introduce the honourable judges who will select the winner.

 Mr. Nuranis Ravi

A Delhite and alumni of the University of Delhi, Mr. N.S. Ravi has authored five books- ‘Those were the days’, 'Khan Vs Kahn Vs Kanh', ‘Marriage Made in Mumbai Local’, ‘Different Shades of Women’ and ‘The Leader’. Mr. Ravi has lived and worked in Europe, Africa, and India for a large number of his professional years.


      Mr. Ratnadip Acharya 
 Mr. Acharya is an author and a columnist. His pen has produced two successful novels- 'Life is Always Aimless...Unless you love it' and 'Paradise Lost & Regained'. He lives in Mumbai and a columnist for 'The Speaking Tree' in The Times of India.


Mr. Om Tiwari

Mr. Tiwari is a journalist with a reputed news channel in Delhi. He chose journalism for a career because of his love for writing. He puts across his views on the issues related to politics, society, movies, books, and personalities through his blog.




*********************************************************************************


We have something more for you. We are proudly introducing the winners of the first two editions of  आओ बचपन सींचें'

⧭
1. Mr. Harsh Tripathi




I'm a student of class 9 studying in Hansraj Smarak Senior Secondary School, Dilshad Garden, Delhi.
I aspire to be an IAS officer. I love to indulge in deep thinking and read sci-fi and fantasy stories.









2. Ms. Kesar Bajaj



I'm a student of class 9 studying in Sarvodya Vidyalaya, I.P. Extension, Patparganj, Delhi.
Besides studying, I love to play Football.














Congratulations to Harsh and Kesar. We wish them all the best for their future. 

PHYSICAL LETTERS- FRAGRANCE OF WARMTH AND LOVE

 आओ बचपन सींचें - 3
चाहे कितने भी बड़े हो जाएँ, फिर भी हम सब हमेशा थोड़े-थोड़े बच्चे ही रहते हैं l नए कपड़े पहन कर बड़े भी इतराते हैं l जन्मदिन पर गिफ्ट पाकर बड़े भी खुश हो जाते हैं l 
जरूरी है बच्चा बने रहना और बच्चों से जुड़े रहना l  




PHYSICAL LETTERS- FRAGRANCE OF WARMTH AND LOVE










Friends, have you ever written a letter to someone in your handwriting? No, I am not talking about the formal, friendly and official letters in your school curriculum but the real informal letters that we write or rather used to write to our friends and relatives.I know you haven't. Who writes a letter nowadays? 

The communication is restricted to rotating messages on Whatsapp and other various apps. Technology is such a menace.It is okay to adapt to the changing times but these new ways are certainly depriving us of the great fun, rich experience, memorable pleasure and sound learning that letter-writing imparts.

Digital communication is undoubtedly cheaper, saves time and saves us from the hiccups of the long wait. However, they are ingenuine, unfelt, crudely formal and often, borrowed. People rotate them in their circle. Such forwards are a mere formality usually lacking genuine feelings and reverence. Sending such messages may keep your terms with the recipients intact but not the bond. These messages are impersonal and sloppy. They, at times, might convey your exact feelings but still, they are somebody else's words. If you type a one-sentence-message in your own words, people would count it more valuable. 

As a writer, I know how putting a pen to paper feels. No doubt, technology saves times but it cuts the bonds and takes away the warmth relations must have. The introduction of emoticons was like the final nail in the coffin. These emotion-expressing-images replaced the words and saved us the labour of typing. They do convey the intended message but with the hollowness of formality. The other person readily deciphers it and does the same since the world survives on reciprocation- reciprocation in equal measures and equal degree of genuineness.


I wrote my first letter to my grandpa when I was seven. My father wrote to him regularly on sky-blue-coloured-Inland-Letters. We always had a bunch of them at home. It cost just thirty-five paisa and needed no postage stamp.It had three leaves to write on and space for the names and addresses of both the recipient and the sender.An Inland letter can be sent anywhere in India- that's what inland means here.
Once, after writing on the two pages, my father asked my sister and me to divide the third leaf into two halves and write short letters to our grandpa. He guided us about the beginning and told us what we should write. We did that gleefully and waited anxiously for grandpa's response.The reply, when finally came, was overwhelming. 

He had written, "Reading the first letter from my grandchildren gave me an unforgettable moment of joy and pride. I read their innocent words umpteen times and had tears in my eyes."

His reply encouraged us. Our writing to him on the third page of the inland-letter after our father filled the first two became a ritual. Gradually, our letters were becoming longer and innovative.After a few months, I wrote to him my first independent letter on an 'unshared' Inland-letter. After some years, we started writing letters to pen-friends and exchanged books and souvenirs.
When my father got a transfer from Pune to Gwalior, I used to miss my friends and teachers. We exchanged letters. I was fond of my Hindi teacher Mr. Ved Prakash Mishra. Every time I wrote to him, I used to ask questions about life and poetry. He replied with elaborate explanation and zeal. We communicated through letters for many years. His letters were like a treasure for they were the testimonials of his knowledge and prowess in literature. I proudly concede that writing letters is a privilege and I largely owe my writing skills to this lost practice.

Physical letters have a charm of their own. Your heart starts beating faster as you receive a letter and doesn't retrieve until you open it and read. My experience says every person reads a letter he receives from his family or friends many times before keeping it in a safe.Along with the sizzling smell of paper and ink, a physical letter contains the unadulterated fragrance of emotions and bondage. Through the hand-written words, you can peep into the heart of that person and might see him speaking those words to you.

The only thing where the modern messaging apps score over the physical letters is the instantaneity. But, we tend to be short and barren as regards to emotions. There is nothing to savour, unlike physical letters that we preserved for years and read them time and again, feeling the same fragrance every time.Interaction is a destination and communication is the path to reach it. The promptness of digital communication is certainly a boon but isn't it making us emotionless, dry and less likable. Please ponder.

Today, I urge you all to write a postal letter to someone- a letter long enough with words coming from your heart. For a change, let your handwritten words speak for you. I swear you will not regret. 

Please give yourself the pleasure of the privilege of writing a letter. A letter comes up when the heart dictates what it feels, hand writes, and eyes wear the expression that those emotions translate into. You will smell the real warmth and love.

And, please do convey how you felt and how the other person responded to your 'unusual' gesture.

जीवन के लिए 'एनर्जी- ड्रिंक' जैसे होते हैं त्यौहार

       आओ बचपन सींचें -२                                                  

                          त्योहारों का हफ्ता
















जीवन के लिए 'एनर्जी- ड्रिंक' जैसे होते हैं त्यौहार 


दोस्तों,अगला सप्ताह खुशियों का सप्ताह है चार दिन में तीन बड़े त्यौहार हैं l प्रत्येक त्यौहार के कुछ दिन पहले से ही हमारे मन में जो ख़ुशी, उमंग और उत्साह होता है ना, शायद वो काफी है ये समझने के लिए कि त्यौहार हमारे जीवन में कितना महत्व रखते हैं l त्योहारों के बिना जीवन कितना नीरस और उबाऊ होगा , कल्पना करके देखिये l समय समय पर आते त्यौहार हमें उमंग और उल्लास से भर देते हैं l



 १२ अगस्त को बकरीद है इसे ईद-उल-अज़हा या ईद-   उल-जुहा भी कहते हैं l बकरीद मीठी ईद के दो महीने बाद मनाई जाती है ये   क़ुरबानी का त्यौहार है l हज़रत इब्राहिम ने अपना पूरा जीवन परोपकार के   लिए समर्पित कर दिया पर उनके कोई संतान न थीl   तब 90 वर्ष की आयु में खुदा ने उनको एक पुत्र   बक्शा और सपने में आकर उनसे उनके प्रिय जानवर की क़ुरबानी माँगी l उन्होंने सबसे पहले ऊँट की क़ुरबानी दी लेकिन सपना दोबारा आया lहज़रत इब्राहिम अपने प्रिय जानवरों की क़ुरबानी देते रहे पर सपने आने बंद ना हुए lअंत में उन्होंने अपने पुत्र की क़ुरबानी देने का फैसला किया l आँख पर पट्टी बाँधकर उन्होंने अपने पुत्र की क़ुरबानी दे डाली लेकिन जब पट्टी खोली तो पुत्र को खेलता पाया l उनके पुत्र की क़ुरबानी बकरे की क़ुरबानी में बदल चुकी थी lईद-उल-जुहा का त्यौहार हज़रत इब्राहिम के जज़्बे को सलाम करने का त्यौहार है l बकरे की क़ुरबानी के बाद उसके माँस को तीन भागों में बाँटा जाता है - एक भाग गरीबों के लिए, दूसरा रिश्तेदारों और दोस्तों के लिए और तीसरा अपने लिए रखा जाता है l


बचपन में मेरा एक दोस्त था -आज़ाद शेख  ईद पर हम उसके घर होते थे और राखी पर वो हमारे घर l  हम शाकाहारी हैं इसलिए सेवँईया मिलती थी हमें - दूध में पकी सूखी सेवँईया जिसमे खूब सारे काजू-बादाम-किशमिश डले होते थे, बड़ी स्वाद होती थीं lकुछ सालों बाद एक दोस्त मिला - रोशन मुशीर l उसके घर जाता था तो बहुत प्यार मिलता था l मीठी ईद पर उसकी अम्मी पाँच तरह की सेवँईया बनाती थीं - पाँचों एक से बढ़कर एक lआज़ाद और मुशीर दोनों के घरों में मुझे ईद पर ईदी मिलती थी और वो सेवँईया इतनी स्वाद होती थीं  कि हम भी ईद का इंतज़ार किया करते थे साथ-साथ त्यौहार मनाने का आनंद ही कुछ और है l
चार दिन बाद बड़ा शुभ दिन है l  भावनाओं के दो बड़े त्यौहार एक ही दिन हैं lआप भी मेरी तरह इन त्योहारों के लिए उत्साहित होंगें l आने वाले दोनों त्यौहार तो सबके प्रिय त्यौहार होते हैं lस्वतंत्रता दिवस और रक्षाबंधन भावनाओँ को ओत-प्रोत करने वाले त्यौहार हैं l एक देश के प्रति देशवासियों के प्रेम को दर्शाता है तो दूसरा भाई-बहन के पावन रिश्ते को और भी प्रगाढ़ कर जाता है l


मेरे पिताजी वायुसेना में कार्यरत थे और देशप्रेमी थे l पंद्रह अगस्त कि छुट्टी हमारे लिए और छुट्टियों से अलग होती थी l लाल किले पर ध्वजारोहण और प्रधानमंत्री के अभिभाषण  का सीधा प्रसारण देखना हमारे लिए अनिवार्य था l पिताजी रोज की तरह उस दिन भी सुबह पाँच बजे उठते थे और हम सभी भाई-बहनों को भी उठा देते थे l सीधा प्रसारण शुरू होने से पहले सबको स्नान कर लेना भी अनिवार्य था l पिताजी उस दिन विशेषतः सफ़ेद कुर्ता-पजामा पहनते थे lसभी के तैयार हो जाने पर हमारा लकड़ी के कैबिनेट में शटरबंद Black & White टीवी चालू  किया जाता था l  पिताजी बड़े संयम से हमारे सारे प्रश्नों के उत्तर देते थे l राष्ट्रीय गान के समय पिताजी खड़े हो जाते थे और हमें भी खड़े होने के लिए कहते थे l



लाल किले पर समारोह समाप्त होने के बाद पतंग उड़ाने का कार्यक्रम प्रारम्भ होता था l पंद्रह अगस्त पर हर बार नई चरखड़ी आती थी और रंग-बिरंगी ढेर सारी  पतंगें भी l  पिताजी पतंग उड़ाते थे और मैं चरखड़ी पकड़ता था l मुझे पतंग उड़ाना कभी नहीं आया l आज भी नहीं आता l बचपन में मुझे क्रिकेट का ही भूत सवार रहता था लेकिन पतंग उड़ाते समय एक बड़ा ही बढ़िया काम  स्वतः ही हो जाता है - आसमान की ओर निहारना l पतंग उड़ाने के अतिरिक्त ऐसा कब करते हैं हम ?शायद ही कभी करते हों lदोस्तों, आसमान की तरफ कुछ देर देखना l आसमानी मैदान पर  सफ़ेद चिट्टे बादल कितनी स्वच्छंदता से उड़ते हैं -जैसे बस उन्हें उनका लक्ष्य दिखाई दे रहा हो और वो उस तक पहुँचने के लिए लालायित हों l उनकी आकृति को पढ़ना भी काफी आनंददायक होता है l बादल अगर काले हों तो देखना, आप उन्हें ज्यादा तेजी से भागते पाओगे l शायद किसी को राहत देने जा रहे होते हैं इसलिए l
ऐसी पृष्ठभूमि पर उनसे भी अधिक स्वच्छंदता से उड़ती आपकी रंग-बिरंगी पतंगें आसमान में भी त्यौहार की सी रौनक बना देती हैं मानो बादलों के घर उनकी बहनें आईं हों राखी बाँधने lकहीं इसी कारण से  तो हम रक्षाबंधन  वाले दिन भी पतंगें नहीं उड़ाते ?


अगर आसमान साफ़ ना हो तो दूर से झाँकती गहरे रंग की घटायें, सूरज को ढक कर राहत  देने की कोशिश करतीं हैं l हाँ, कभी-कभी बरस जातीं हैं पर बरसना उनकी मजबूरी होता है ना ?आसमान के विस्तार को देखने से हमारे अंदर विनम्रता भी आती है l आप भी देखना और बताना कैसा लगा lऔर आसमान में ऊँचे उड़ते पक्षी जहाँ एक ओर ऊँची उड़ान भरने का हौंसला और प्रेरणा दे रहे होते हैं, वहीँ अनुशासन की सीख भी दे रहे होते हैं l

आसमान अपने आप में किसी पुस्तक से काम नहीं हैं l पिछली बार हमने रात के आसमान की बात की थी पर दिन का आसमान भी कम निराला नहीं होता l

पतंगे उड़ाया करो , दोस्तों पर पूरी सावधानी के साथ l पतंग उड़ाने की जगह सुरक्षित होनी चाहिए अगर छत पर उड़ा रहे हो तो वहा मुंडेर होनी जरूरी है l

पतंगें अपनी डोर के अधीन नहीं होतीं ... ना ही उस पर आश्रित होतीं हैं l डोर पतंग को आसमान तक ले जाती है और फिर स्वच्छंदता से गोते खाने देती है, विचरने देती है और आसमान छूने देती है l डोर स्वयं आसमान नहीं छू पाती l हमारे माता-पिता और शिक्षक भी तो ऐसी ही डोर होते हैं ना ?

पतंगे उड़ानी चाहिए पर लूटनी नहीं चाहिए l
चलिए, अब रक्षाबंधन की बात करते हैं l
आप सभी अपनी बहनों और भाइयों से लड़ते होंगें l स्वाभाविक है l लेकिन जब कोई और आपकी बहन या भाई के बारे में कुछ दे तो आप को ही सबसे अधिक बुरा भी लगता होगा l यही तो है इस अनूठे रिश्ते की खासियत lबड़ा प्यारा होता है ये रिश्ता l कितनी ही बार बहन भाई को मम्मी-पापा की डाँट से बचाती है ल मुझे तो बचपन में ना जाने कितनी बार मेरी बहनों ने मुझे बचाया है l

रक्षाबंधन निश्छल और पवित्र भावनाओं का त्यौहार है l चावल के दानो से सजा रोली का टीका माथे पर लगवाकर और बहन द्वारा  कड़े परिश्रम और बहुत चाव से छाँटी हुई प्यारी सी राखी बँधवाकर हर भाई स्वयं को कितना सौभाग्यशाली समझता है l  रेशम या सूत का धागा जब भाई की कलाई पर बंध जाता है तो बहन का विश्वास और स्नेह उसे कई गुना मजबूत बना देता है l एक कोमल सा धागा जब भाई की कलाई पर सज जाता है तो वह कोमल नहीं रहता। बहनें धागे में गूँथकर अपार स्नेह व भावनाएँ बाँधती है। कुछ दिन बाद, भाई जब उस धागे को उतारता है तो तोड़ता नहीं, बड़ा जतन लगा के खोलता है और उसे संभाल कर रखता है।

इस बार जब आपकी बहन आपकी कलाई पर राखी बाँध रही हो तो उसकी आँखों में देखना lआपको स्नेह और विश्वास की अनोखी चमक दिखेगी जो शायद और दिन उतनी ना दमकती हो lराखी बंधवाते हुए आपके अंदर भी प्रेम उमड़ आता होगा और बहन की सदा रक्षा करने का संकल्प और अधिक प्रबल हो जाता होगा lदोस्तों, शायद हमारे भारत में ही रिश्तों के त्यौहार मनाये जाते हैं l ऐसे सारे त्योहारों के पीछे कितनी सुन्दर और सच्ची भावनाएँ होतीं हैं आप सभी ने  की होंगीं l

अभी दो दिन पहले मैं पोस्ट-ऑफिस में किसी काम से गया था बहुत से लोग राखियों के लिफ़ाफ़े स्पीड-पोस्ट से भेजने के लिए खड़े थे l एक युवती लाइन से निकलकर काउंटर पर आई और पूछा , " लिफ़ाफ़े में राखी के साथ चॉकलेट रख सकते हैं ना ?" उनकी आँखों में चमक थी और आवाज़ में उत्साह lकाउंटर पर बैठीं पोस्ट-ऑफिस अधिकारी  ने रूखे लहज़े में उत्तर दिया, " क्या फायदा होगा? पिघल जाएगी l"

 युवती मायूस होकर अपने स्थान पर   लौट गई l मन हुआ आगे बढ़कर  उस   युवती से कहूँ, "रख दीजिये l आपने   पुछा ही क्यों ?" तभी यही बात लाइन   में उस युवती के पीछे खड़ी महिला ने   उससे कह दी l मुझे आश्चर्य भी हुआ   कि एक स्त्री होते हुए भी पोस्ट-     ऑफिस   अधिकारी उस युवती की भावनाओं को समझ ना पाई lचॉकलेट लिफ़ाफ़े में डालते  समय युवती की आँखों में चमक लौट आई थी l  ऐसा लग रहा था जैसे वो  भाई को अपने हाथों से चॉकलेट खिलाने की कल्पना कर रही हो l
बचपन की रक्षाबंधन बड़ी यादगार होतीं थीं l रक्षाबंधन पर स्कूल की छुट्टी तो होती ही थी। मम्मी पता नहीं कब की उठी होतीं थी। झाड़ू- पोंछा हो चुका होता था जब वो हमें उठाने के लिए झिंझोड़ती थी। भगवान के आले के दोनों ओर व सारे दरवाजों पर खड़िया से चकोर पुता होता था। मैं उठते ही गीली खड़िया पर उंगली लगाता था तो मम्मी हल्की-सी चपत लगा कर कहती थी, "पूजा होगी। झूठे हाथ लगाता है।"
नहाने के बाद सोहन पूजे जाते थे। हमारे यहाँ यह पूजा पुरुष ही करते हैं । कटोरी में गेरू घुला होता था व माचिस की तिली पर रुई लिपटी  होती थी। पिताजी  सफेद चकोर पर "श्री कृष्ण शरणम् मम:" लिखते थे। गुंधे आटे की बत्तियों से कलावे का हार लगाते थे और रोली के छींटे मार कर भोग लगाते थे। मैं पूजा की थाली पकड़े ध्यान से सब देखता था।
उस समय मम्मी रसोई में कड़ी-चावल बना रही होती थीं। लम्बे श्रावण मास के बाद कड़ी की अटक खुलती है रक्षाबंधन वाले दिन। 
फिर मेरी तीनों  बहनें मुझे राखी बाँधती थीं, मीठाई  खिलाती थीं और आरती उतारती थीं। फिर मैं पापा के दिए हुए पैसे उन्हें देता था। मैं शैतान था पर उस दिन बड़ा ही संवेदनशील और भावुक हो जाया करता था। 
इस त्यौहार की सबसे अच्छी बात है घर में लगने वाला जमावड़ा। बुआओं का आना l  फिर मम्मी का मामाओं के घर जाना। मूल्य बताकर नहीं सिखाए जाते, निभाकर सिखाए जाते हैं। 

समय बदल गया है  l आज भाइयों द्वारा बहन की रक्षा का प्रण लेने से अधिक आवश्यक है कि भाई, बहन को अपनी रक्षा स्वयं करना भी सिखाये l साथ ही साथ उसे स्वावलंबी और मानसिक रूप से मजबूत बनने में उसकी सहायता करे, उसे बराबर का दर्जा दे , उसे और उसके विचारों को समझे और उसका सम्मान करे l 

प्रत्येक त्यौहार उमंग और उत्साह के साथ मनाएँ और ख़ुशी दूसरों के साथ भी बाँटे lदेश से प्यार करें l देशवासियों का सम्मान करें l खुद से प्यार करें l अपने रिश्तों को सहेज कर रखें l खुश रहे और दूसरों को खुश रखें l 
आप सभी को खुशियों भरे आगामी सप्ताह के सभी त्योहरों की हार्दिक शुभकामनाएँ l
आपने ईद, स्वतंत्रता दिवस और रक्षाबंधन के त्यौहार कैसे मनाये, अवश्य शेयर करियेगा lब्लॉग के विषय में आपके सुझावों का स्वागत है l

छत की सैर - आओ बचपन सींचें ...

आओ बचपन सींचें ...

चाहे कितने भी बड़े हो जाएँ, फिर भी हम सब हमेशा थोड़े-थोड़े बच्चे ही रहते हैं l नए कपड़े पहन कर बड़े भी इतराते हैं l जन्मदिन पर गिफ्ट पाकर बड़े भी खुश हो जाते हैं l 
जरूरी है बच्चा बने रहना और बच्चों से जुड़े रहना l  






प्यारे दोस्तों,

Sunday  का दिन है 

आओ कुछ बातें करें..
कुछ मैं तुम्हे सुनाऊँ 
कुछ तुम मुझे बताओ 
क्यों हमेशा homework 
और assignments  में उलझे रहें,
या Whattsapp , Instagram, Facebook में खोए रहें 
आओ, एक दुसरे के चश्मे से दुनिया देखते हैं 
Sunday की इस सुबह में रंग भरते हैं ....

दोस्तों, ये आपसे जुड़ने का एक प्रयास है, आपको कोई उपदेश या सीख देने की कोशिश नहीं l मैं अपने बचपन की बातें आपके साथ share करूँगा l फिर comment box के जरिये या ईमेल से आप कोई मिलती-जुलती बात मुझे बताना l उनमे से कुछ बातें मैं अगले ब्लॉग में शेयर करूँगा l 
और हाँ, आपके द्वारा भेजे गए Experiences में से किसी एक  entry को prize भी मिलेगा l 
कुछ न भी share करना हो तो आपको हमारी पोस्ट  कैसी लगी   , जरूर बताइयेगा .....






   छत की सैर 




बचपन बड़ा सुहाना था जैसे दही-बड़े की चटनी में पड़ा मोटा सा अँगूर का दाना था l
घर में पंखा तो था पर बिजली अक्सर मुँह फुलाए रहती थी ना जाने क्यों हमें खुश देखकर कुड़ जाया करती थी l
हम छत पर सोया करते थे कभी माँ से,  कभी पापा से कहानियाँ सुन कर आसमान में अपने सपनों के तारे बोया करते थे 
कभी दादा-दादी,  कभी नाना-नानी कभी बुआ, कभी चाचा कभी मामा और मौसी आते-जाते रहते थे lनई नई कहानियों के मौसम ठहरे रहते थे l
कभी दादाजी का बूढ़ा किस्सा, कभी दादी के ठाकुर जी का करतब नानाजी कहते थे मुहावरे और कहावतें नानी समझाया करती थीं उनका मतलब बुआ की अटपटी होती थीं पहेलियाँ खुजा-खुजा  बाल नोच डालते थे  हम सब l
चाचा पहले तो तुक वाले शब्दों की कराते थे कलाबाजियाँ फिर उनके  साथ मिलकर हम झटपट पिरो देते थे काफिया l
मामा जब भी आते थे पुरानी दिल्ली की चाट लाते थे और एक रुमाल की पोटली में भूतों के कारनामे वाले मुसे-सिकुड़े अखबार भी आते थे हम दिन में हेकड़ी से पढ़ते थे रात को भीगी बिल्ली बन जाते थे lदीवारों पर परछाई देख छोटी पिपलु चीख पड़ती थी पापा की डाँट के डर से मामा चादर में छुप जाते थे l
वो रात  दादा -दादी वाली थी नई कहानियाँ आने वाली थीं तीन गद्दे सटाकर बिछाये थे चाँद को सिरहाने के पीछे छोड़ आए थे 
मैं,  दादा,  बीच में सुपलु और पिपलु फिर दादी और फिर बब्लु "दादू,  अगर हम अपनी गुड़िया ले आएँगे तो हम भी सप्तऋषि (Great Bear or Ursa Major) बन जाएँगे l"
"हाँ,  जाओ,  झटपट ले आओ अपना भी सप्तऋषि बनाओ l"
"देखो वहाँ, आसमान में शायद सप्तऋषि की शादी है देखो बिच्छू (Scorpio Constellation) की पूँछ भी आधी है चाँद भी देखो,  सजा-धजा है इसे भी दावत का चस्का लगा है lध्रुव तारा,  खूंटे से बंधा बेचारा देखो,  हँसता हुआ लगे कितना प्यारा l
दादाजी दादी को मास्टरजी बुलाते थे क्यों,  कभी ना किसी को बताते थे 
"मास्टरजी, हवा शायद नाराज़ है या उसकी तबियत नासाज़ है कितनी देर हुई चल ही नहीं रही है बीजना ले आओ,  गर्मी बड़ी है l"
दादी ने तकिये पर कोहनी टिकाई सिर ऊँचा कर उसके नीचे हथेली लगाई 
"सात कानों (One-eyed person) के नाम लो देखना,  हवा चल जाएगी"दादी ने तरकीब सुझाई 
"कैसी बात करती हो, मास्टरजी सात कानों के नाम बच्चे कहाँ ढूँढ पाएँगे इस काम में तो घंटों लग जाएँगे"
"बच्चों,  दादाजी चुनौती दे रहें हैँ तुम सबको हल्के में ले रहें हैँ चलो,  पहला नाम मैं कहती हूँ 'कौए' से शुरुआत करती हूँ "
दादी से तब पोती बोली पिपलु की जिज्ञासा डोली "कौआ क्या काना होता है? वो तो बस,  काला होता है l"
"बतलाऊँगी,  बतलाऊँगी कहानी वो भी हवा तो चल जाने दो lगिनती को आगे बढ़ाओ और कानों के नाम बताओ"
"नुक्कड़ वाले श्रीनिवास अंकल " "अरे ! शकुनि भी तो काना था""स्कूल वाली माई जी भी हैँ ""चार हुए,  तीन अभी भी बाकी हैँ "
बहुत दिमाग दौड़ाया हमने और काने ना मिले एक-एक करके सो गए सारे हवा चले,  ना चले l
बड़े हो गए तब ये समझा वो तो तरकीब थी दादी की सोयी हवा से ध्यान हटे हमारा इसलिए कानों की गिनती करा दी थी l

दोस्तों,  तुम भी कभी-कभी रात को छत पर जाया करो हो सके तो किसी बड़े को साथ अपने ले जाया करो lGibbous और Crescent moon से किताबों में ही क्यों मिलते हो Ursa Major और Minor, Orion और Scorpio भी तुम्हारा इंतज़ार करते हैँ कभी-कभी जाकर इन्हें Hello बोल आया करो lताजी हवा बड़े काम की काले आसमान में सुनहरे तारों की कसीदाकारी बड़े नाम की रोज Exhibition लगती है तुम भी देख आया करो l
दोस्तों,  तुम भी कभी-कभी 
रात को छत पर जाया करो 
























ये शुरुआत मैंने Friendship Day से आप सब के साथ लम्बी दोस्ती के लिए की हैl अपने सुझाव,  प्रतिक्रिया-अच्छी या बुरी, मुझ तक पहुँचाते रहिएगा l

छत की सैर - आओ, बचपन सींचें ...

आओ, बचपन सींचें ...

चाहे कितने भी बड़े हो जाएँ, फिर भी हम सब हमेशा थोड़े-थोड़े बच्चे ही रहते हैं l नए कपड़े पहन कर बड़े भी इतराते हैं l जन्मदिन पर गिफ्ट पाकर बड़े भी खुश हो जाते हैं l 
जरूरी है बच्चा बने रहना और बच्चों से जुड़े रहना l  






प्यारे दोस्तों,

Sunday  का दिन है 

आओ कुछ बातें करें..
कुछ मैं तुम्हे सुनाऊँ 
कुछ तुम मुझे बताओ 
क्यों हमेशा homework 
और assignments  में उलझे रहें,
या Whattsapp , Instagram, Facebook में खोए रहें 
आओ, एक दुसरे के चश्मे से दुनिया देखते हैं 
Sunday की इस सुबह में रंग भरते हैं ....

दोस्तों, ये आपसे जुड़ने का एक प्रयास है, आपको कोई उपदेश या सीख देने की कोशिश नहीं l मैं अपने बचपन की बातें आपके साथ share करूँगा l फिर comment box के जरिये या ईमेल से आप कोई मिलती-जुलती बात मुझे बताना l उनमे से कुछ बातें मैं अगले ब्लॉग में शेयर करूँगा l 
और हाँ, आपके द्वारा भेजे गए Experiences में से किसी एक  entry को prize भी मिलेगा l 
कुछ न भी share करना हो तो आपको हमारी पोस्ट  कैसी लगी   , जरूर बताइयेगा .....






   छत की सैर 




बचपन बड़ा सुहाना था जैसे दही-बड़े की चटनी में पड़ा मोटा सा अँगूर का दाना था l
घर में पंखा तो था पर बिजली अक्सर मुँह फुलाए रहती थी ना जाने क्यों हमें खुश देखकर कुड़ जाया करती थी l
हम छत पर सोया करते थे कभी माँ से,  कभी पापा से कहानियाँ सुन कर आसमान में अपने सपनों के तारे बोया करते थे 
कभी दादा-दादी,  कभी नाना-नानी कभी बुआ, कभी चाचा कभी मामा और मौसी आते-जाते रहते थे lनई नई कहानियों के मौसम ठहरे रहते थे l
कभी दादाजी का बूढ़ा किस्सा, कभी दादी के ठाकुर जी का करतब नानाजी कहते थे मुहावरे और कहावतें नानी समझाया करती थीं उनका मतलब बुआ की अटपटी होती थीं पहेलियाँ खुजा-खुजा  बाल नोच डालते थे  हम सब l
चाचा पहले तो तुक वाले शब्दों की कराते थे कलाबाजियाँ फिर उनके  साथ मिलकर हम झटपट पिरो देते थे काफिया l
मामा जब भी आते थे पुरानी दिल्ली की चाट लाते थे और एक रुमाल की पोटली में भूतों के कारनामे वाले मुसे-सिकुड़े अखबार भी आते थे हम दिन में हेकड़ी से पढ़ते थे रात को भीगी बिल्ली बन जाते थे lदीवारों पर परछाई देख छोटी पिपलु चीख पड़ती थी पापा की डाँट के डर से मामा चादर में छुप जाते थे l
वो रात  दादा -दादी वाली थी नई कहानियाँ आने वाली थीं तीन गद्दे सटाकर बिछाये थे चाँद को सिरहाने के पीछे छोड़ आए थे 
मैं,  दादा,  बीच में सुपलु और पिपलु फिर दादी और फिर बब्लु "दादू,  अगर हम अपनी गुड़िया ले आएँगे तो हम भी सप्तऋषि (Great Bear or Ursa Major) बन जाएँगे l"
"हाँ,  जाओ,  झटपट ले आओ अपना भी सप्तऋषि बनाओ l"
"देखो वहाँ, आसमान में शायद सप्तऋषि की शादी है देखो बिच्छू (Scorpio Constellation) की पूँछ भी आधी है चाँद भी देखो,  सजा-धजा है इसे भी दावत का चस्का लगा है lध्रुव तारा,  खूंटे से बंधा बेचारा देखो,  हँसता हुआ लगे कितना प्यारा l
दादाजी दादी को मास्टरजी बुलाते थे क्यों,  कभी ना किसी को बताते थे 
"मास्टरजी, हवा शायद नाराज़ है या उसकी तबियत नासाज़ है कितनी देर हुई चल ही नहीं रही है बीजना ले आओ,  गर्मी बड़ी है l"
दादी ने तकिये पर कोहनी टिकाई सिर ऊँचा कर उसके नीचे हथेली लगाई 
"सात कानों (One-eyed person) के नाम लो देखना,  हवा चल जाएगी"दादी ने तरकीब सुझाई 
"कैसी बात करती हो, मास्टरजी सात कानों के नाम बच्चे कहाँ ढूँढ पाएँगे इस काम में तो घंटों लग जाएँगे"
"बच्चों,  दादाजी चुनौती दे रहें हैँ तुम सबको हल्के में ले रहें हैँ चलो,  पहला नाम मैं कहती हूँ 'कौए' से शुरुआत करती हूँ "
दादी से तब पोती बोली पिपलु की जिज्ञासा डोली "कौआ क्या काना होता है? वो तो बस,  काला होता है l"
"बतलाऊँगी,  बतलाऊँगी कहानी वो भी हवा तो चल जाने दो lगिनती को आगे बढ़ाओ और कानों के नाम बताओ"
"नुक्कड़ वाले श्रीनिवास अंकल " "अरे ! शकुनि भी तो काना था""स्कूल वाली माई जी भी हैँ ""चार हुए,  तीन अभी भी बाकी हैँ "
बहुत दिमाग दौड़ाया हमने और काने ना मिले एक-एक करके सो गए सारे हवा चले,  ना चले l
बड़े हो गए तब ये समझा वो तो तरकीब थी दादी की सोयी हवा से ध्यान हटे हमारा इसलिए कानों की गिनती करा दी थी l

दोस्तों,  तुम भी कभी-कभी रात को छत पर जाया करो हो सके तो किसी बड़े को साथ अपने ले जाया करो lGibbous और Crescent moon से किताबों में ही क्यों मिलते हो Ursa Major और Minor, Orion और Scorpio भी तुम्हारा इंतज़ार करते हैँ कभी-कभी जाकर इन्हें Hello बोल आया करो lताजी हवा बड़े काम की काले आसमान में सुनहरे तारों की कसीदाकारी बड़े नाम की रोज Exhibition लगती है तुम भी देख आया करो l
दोस्तों,  तुम भी कभी-कभी 
रात को छत पर जाया करो 
























ये शुरुआत मैंने Friendship Day से आप सब के साथ लम्बी दोस्ती के लिए की हैl अपने सुझाव,  प्रतिक्रिया-अच्छी या बुरी, मुझ तक पहुँचाते रहिएगा l

THE LAST BALL SIX- REVIEW

THE LAST BALL SIX- REVIEW












A Racy, Hilarious Saga of a Mad, Mad Indian Cricket Fan
If cricket could be equated to religion, Tijinder Tuteja or Titu would automatically qualify as Devotee Number One. Period. Cricket was the elixir of life for him.Over time, Titu gets addicted to T20 - the new, bang-bang variety of cricket. His favourite team is the Punjab Pulverizers and his god is Khoobraj Singh, the PP's acest batsman. In a bit of a stroke of luck, Titu wins a couples entry-pass to the final match of BPL - the Bharatiya Premier League - the T20 cricket tournament on the face of this earth... and the cherry on the cake is that PP are going to be playing HH - the Haryana Hounds.It turns out to be quite a humdinger of a match - sending Titu's heart-rate and blood pressure soaring with each passing minute. He turns very pale and begins to perspire copiously. But so engrossed is he in the match that he doesn't feel the gnawing pain creeping up his chest until suddenly, he collapses in his seat and his heart stops beating. Horrified, Tilottama, his wife, let's out a scream of despair which promptly gets lost in the excited, unrelenting uproar all around them.What happens then? Does cricket manage to, quite literally, kill its biggest fan? Or does cricket, with one, final, life-saving stroke of its bat, manage to redeem the life of its biggest patron ever?Who wins this match of life and death? Find out!



                                                                          REVIEW

I don’t remember who introduced me to cricket but, I started playing with ‘Thapki’ the baton for beating clothes every household had before the washing machines became common and compulsory. Gradually, the addiction to cricket grew so much that I even slept with ‘Thapki’. I was six when I got my first bat after much persuasion- a fish cover with number 5 sticker. Even the shopkeeper tried to dissuade me saying that I was too small for a fish cover bat and that too so long.My father was as strict as Mr Tuteja. Knowing that he would not allow me to play a match during examination days, I used to slip away before anyone in the house woke up. Needless to say what sort of welcome I used to get when I returned after playing. ‘THE LAST BALL SIX’ brought back all memories.
Delectable, with not a pinch of sorrow in it. Very Punjabi. Very 'Cricket-ish'. Simple. Unpretentious. Humourous. And, very relatable.   Pradeep Kapoor, after reading this book anyone can know why you are a successful paediatrician. You have such fetish for everything life is about- relationships, families, parenthood, love, adolescence, even womanhood and most subtly, the indispensable ingredient of happy living-Humour. Now, I know why in every pic you share, you always appear smiling even when you are not.
"Oh, you can smile after anything."           -Page 199.
As you read into this book, you realize and wonder what a devoted student of life the author is. The way he describes the Tuteja household is remarkable. You feel you are virtually living with that family. Gradually, you can assume reactions of the others when one of them says or does something even before reading further.
All the characters have been so well crafted that I felt I know them intrinsically. The evolution of Indian cricket from naive participants to giants runs parallel to Titu's (Tijinder Tuteja, the protagonist) life. The author has given a detailed account of all the major cricketing events from 1971 to 2011. I won't comment on how essential these details were to the story, maybe, to portray Titu as a diehard cricket fan, but they sounded more of a hindrance to the story. Everything about this story is so Punjabi. The author has chosen the names meticulously. They sound familiar and funny at the same time. Titu's marriage,  'phoopha ji' ke tantrums,  Mama's (the 'moonch' wali Helen) cabaret,  the 'Nagin' dance, the dancing getting 'frighteningly vigorous' just at the gate and not to forget the 'Milni' everything has been so vividly described that the words create a spectacle for you to relish.
The narration neglecting Titu's old parents in the last 50 odd pages pinched me. Sorry. I am too emotional to handle this slump.
This is a book for every Punjabi, every cricket buff and lovers of simple but relatable stories. It will make you smile, laugh and take you the allies of your childhood that time and life have mercilessly made blurred.

EVERGLOW- Book Review

When her father’s unexpected death renders Disha homeless, she is brought to Kolkata by her father’s best friend, to live with them. Home is now a rambling joint family where there are more young men than Disha has even known in all her life. A far cry from the simplicity of her life back in Hamirpur, Disha sets about trying to fit in with the rhythms of this household and its members. And then she meets the second son and star of the family—Siddhant. Sid is the lead guitarist of the rock band, Derozio Dreams, and when he discovers that Disha is a classically trained vocalist, he brings her to his band to enhance their fusion repertoire. Music becomes their meeting ground and with Sid involving himself in her initiation into the band, they draw closer, to the chagrin of some family members, especially his mother, who thinks Disha, the outsider, has transgressed. When Disha’s elder sister wants her to come back to Hamirpur to be seen as a prospective bride for her husband’s cousin, Disha’s fate hangs by a slender thread. Will the promise of love and the music that Disha and Sid make together triumph over all odds?


REVIEW
  I shall begin by complimenting the author's impeccable knowledge of music. A couple of years back, I read ‘RASIA’  by Koral Dasgupta that taught me so much about dance and now this book enlightens me about the numerous ragas. I envy these Bangla women. Two things I know best about are –Cricket and Mathematics. Almost everyone is an expert in the former and hardly anyone wants to know about the latter. SIGH. We had Music as a compulsory vocational subject in class ten. We had all but one period a week and they used to give us grades that went in our mark sheet. It was only the third week when my teacher told me not to come to her class ever. I had learnt Arohan and Awrohan by then and can sing it even today in my hoarse voice. Reading this book, I regretted to have missed the opportunity to learn music a bit more.
Besides Music, the joint family, Sid-the protagonist is a part of, impresses me.  They disagree on almost everything but they dwell together. It would have made no difference to the story if the author showcased it as a nuclear family but I am glad, she chooses a joint family. Joint families yield so much just at the cost of a little bit of patience and tolerance. Often,   authors make such choices instinctively and tend to find a justification afterwards same as she chooses a British woman as the protagonist's mother who plays an undertone villain and despite her veneer of refinement, she does no good except imparting her complexion to her kids and English nicknames to every kid of the family.
Then comes the band -Derozio Dreams. Read the book and I vouch, you would long to be a part of a Rock band yourself or at least yearn to watch a Rock concert live. I do.
There are two remarkable aspects of this book- Music and Writing. 'EVERGLOW' would have been a passable and flat love story but for the chapters involving Music and concerts. The story appears more lively and cheerful when the band-crew comes into the narration. Music has a magical aura to enrich, enliven and buoy up everything.The disciplined 'Point of View' in the first-person-narrative is commendable. Often, authors infiltrate the boundaries while telling a story in the first person. The author restrained herself and didn't hesitate to introduce new names and characters of the protagonist's family even in the second half as and when the narrator is introduced to them.The prose of Nandita Bose always has the tone of poetry which coaxes the reader to go on and on even though the first twenty pages were unfathomable. Even as she peruses the glorious but enigmatic equations of relationships, her mind cannot escape the horrors of religion and homosexuality.Her authority over the language and rich vocabulary are enviable. The adjectives are not clichéd. Dialogues are piercing. And, to top that, her understanding of Man-Woman dynamics is subtle and though you may not accept the psychology she imparts to her characters, you will feel curious to know what they do next.
Sid outshines all other characters. He is depicted as a star and appears so. He is spontaneous, flexible, responsible, dutiful and caring. There are almost a dozen other male characters but no one comes close to him. Nandita Bose certainly portrays male characters better than their counterparts.
Disha annoys me. She acts more than her age. She is indecisive, uncertain, and hence vulnerable. Although she is from a small town where even mobile phones do not work and she also confesses that her new home has more young men she has ever known in all her life, she is easy-going with boys and allows them to touch her, cuddle her, and embrace her without inhibitions. She aspires so much but surrenders easily, allowing others to decide every dawn of her life. I feel she is fortunate to have met Sid, whom she calls annoying and intolerable. To me, she appears like the nightingale in Vikram Seth's famous poem 'The Frog and the Nightingale'. She performs with great panache on stage but her talent hardly makes her confident otherwise. I will not call it characterization-glitch but, I feel sorry for her.‘EVERGLOW’ is a brilliant read for the lovers of music and literature.


'EVERGLOW' CAN BE BOUGHT...https://www.amazon.in/Everglow-Romance-Nandita-Bose

NATIONAL WAR MEMORIAL- A SHRINE FOR ALL OF US

                              

NATIONAL WAR MEMORIAL- A SHRINE

“The National War Memorial has been built to commemorate the sacrifice of soldiers who died for the country” -NDTVBUT, CAN WE REALLY COMMEMORATE A SACRIFICE? CAN WE?

My daughter has appeared for her tenth class exams this year. She was working hard for last three months and when her exams were over on 29th of March, she urged for an outing. I was curious to visit the National War Memorial myself since the Prime Minister had inaugurated the War Museum.






We did some shopping at Chandni Chowk and had tired ourselves. However, we didn’t bow to our exhausted bodies. I deliberately drove as slow as Delhi traffic could allow so that we could relax and revive in the air-conditioned ambience of our car. We reached the India Gate at 2:45 and after walking about 300 meters reached the entrance of the monument which I think, is the greatest tribute by the government to its armed forces since the independence.As we reached the canopy after crossing the India Gate, we saw a square 'PARAM YODHA STHAL'. We decided to see it later as we're curious to visit the main structure.
The War memorial has been designed and conceptualised by WeBe Design Lab, Chennai. And, they have done a remarkable job indeed. This would remain the most prestigious and satisfying of all the assignments they would accomplish. They deserve a salute.
As we saw the three words ‘NATIONAL WAR MEMORIAL’ engraved in bold letters on the not-too-high Kota stone wall, a chill ran across our spines though we were sweating profusely.Spread in 40 acres, National War Memorial draws inspiration from the 'Chakravyuh' formation.  The main structure is in the form of four chakras (concentric circles), which signify the different values of the armed forces. The four chakrashave been christened as 1.            The Amar Chakra (Circle of Mortality) comprising of the stone obelisk and the eternal flame.2.            The Veerta Chakra (Circle of Bravery) is about the six battles our armed forces fought and has been depicted in bronze. 3.            The Tyag Chakra (Circle of Sacrifice) holds the names of battle causalities.4.            The Rakshak Chakra (Circle of Protection) is the outermost tier comprising of 695 trees symbolising the guarding soldiers.
I will not use the word Martyr because an Army officer friend educated me that a soldier is always a warrior and never a martyr.The split walled-segments of the spiral contain the names of warriors (10 names in each column) on rectangular brown tablets with golden ink. Saunter across the sixteen walls slowly and read as many as possible out of 25,942 names that you and I might have never heard of but we do owe gratitude to. Read the rank, the service number, the name and imagine the tricolour clad soul of a smiling soldier who obliged death and died to make his life invaluable. Curse yourself if you do not hear him say, “I sacrificed my life for you. Did you deserve it?”

                           



The thoughtful positioning of a smart board where one can search the name of the warrior if he wants to, impressed me. A gentleman tried searching his name. I didn't want to mock his ignorance but did speak to myself, "On this board, no one can search his own name. Dude, only others can search you here."
As we walk down the innermost arena, we reach the nearest to the 15.5-metre-high obelisk at the centre that has an eternal flame at its bottom and four around it. A soldier stands facing it. Watch him for a few minutes and you would know of the metal that makes a soldier. 

                           
The circular coliseum has a roofed path all along its circumference. Another soldier has to stand to prevent the selfie-seeking people from reaching the obelisk- An unnecessary exertion because we Indians are more passionate about self-approbation than our soldiers are for the motherland. Six bronze murals made by the noted sculpture Ram Sutar embellish the walls of coliseum. As we completed the round and reached the pulchritudinous Gurkha soldiers, comparatively shorter and with tilted hats, at the exit of the Circle of Bravery, I stopped, shook hands with them and said, “We’re proud of you.” They reciprocated with the true spirit of soldiers while I felt their palms were made of steel. Seeing my emotional act some passers-by smiled sarcastically and, in all likelihood, might have labelled me as a hypocrite.

                                After walking out of the Veerta Chakra, we found an empty bench and decided to take a short break in order to calm down our complaining limbs. The time-off, however, was not short of action. A group of fifteen, an elderly women, gentlemen, gentlewomen and children had immediately appeared in a quest to entertain us. They shrieked, squeaked, yelled, sang and slanged each other while clicking pictures in hilarious poses. Then, they sat on the tiled margins of the flower beds. A soldier walked up and politely told them not to sit on the flower bed walls. A noble-lady among them protested saying ‘Banaya hi kyun hai agar baith nahin sakte to’ (Why have those been made if we can’t sit on them). She was an aware citizen of a democratic state. The soldier stood quietly, smiling. They do, even before the stone-pelters in Kashmir.

PARAM YODHA STHAL lies adjacent to the main memorial. It is a befitting tribute to the valour of the twenty-one PARAMVIR CHAKRA Awardees. The bronze busts dedicated to the twenty-one bravest men along with the plaques citing the stories of their bravery in both Hindi and English, amidst the lush green lawns and paved pathways is a stunning place. When I walked into the gallantry gallery, the lights had been switched on and made the premises even more beautiful. Heroism has its own aura but the PARAM YODHA STHAL emanates heroism that inspires you to emulate. The mesmerising stories of these extraordinary soldiers reiterate that guns and ammunition are mere toys and their glory lies in the hands which hold them.

                                        
The place has been lavishly adorned with beautiful flowers, fountains and meticulously installed lights for appeasement of the eyes. You would always come across people who walk into the War Memorial with ignorance or ingratitude that incapacitate them to understand the purpose and sentiments behind this sacred monument. No, it’s not the patriot or nationalist in me but, if soldiers have to stand to check our conduct at a monument constructed to pay homage to our soldiers; I am compelled to write so. Please don’t go there to trouble them. Spare them at this place.
 For some of us, ‘The War Memorial’ is a picnic spot.
The departure from India Gate brought me yet another joy. We stopped to buy roasted corn. A teenage girl and an adolescent boy were assisting the middle-age hawker. When I was about to walk ahead after paying them and requesting for another coat of lemon and salt, the boy said, “Aap kya sena ya police mein hain, sir.”(Sir, are you from army or police?)Before replying him, I looked at my wife and kids, smiling smugly. They were as amused as I was.“Nhin bhai. Kash aisa hota. Lekin aapne aisa bolkar dil khush kar diya” I patted his back and walked off with inflated chest.(I wish I was. But, brother, saying so, you’ve made my day) We returned home humbled yet happy and contended. I urge everyone to visit NATIONAL WAR MEMORIAL with your family. I promise you won’t regret. And guys, there is no ticket.

                                                  

#NationalWarMemorial #ArmedForces #War #Soldiers #IndianArmy #IndianAirForce #IndianNavy #IndiaGate #Delhi #Tourists  

WAR IS AN EXPENSIVE BARGAIN TO ELIMINATE A CHEAP ENEMY

WAR IS AN EXPENSIVE BARGAIN TO ELIMINATE A CHEAP ENEMY


Last fifteen days were like an action movie on a patriotic theme. So much happened from 14 Feb, the unfortunate day when an insane terror group carried out the barbaric suicidal attack on CRPF Jawans until the eagerly awaited 1 Mar when an Indian Air Force pilot in the captivity of Pakistan will be released. Like every Indian, I too, am anxiously waiting for the moment when Wing Commander Abhinandan will walk across the Wagah Border. 
Right after the Pulwama attack, the humanity seemed to have divided into two segments: The Warmongers and the We-Are-Against-The-War brigade. The last fortnight has seen so much of action in form of incidental jingoism and spirited opinions: Instinctive, reflexive, borrowed, mature and immature, Political and apolitical, Religious and non-religious.The modernised fourth pillar of democracy, the Media has been the worst contributor in aggravating the situation. The herd of menopausal, retired and now unemployed defence personnel, giving useless analysis on television and throwing out the secrets of armed forces like alms to all and sundry just to brag. The residual spirit of soldier in these so-called defence experts does not mind being ridiculed and insulted when they are interrupted by the rude anchors. Often, they are so pumped up that one grows curious to have a glimpse of their service record and what significant they had done when they donned the uniform. 
India's plight is terrorism sponsored by Pakistan. However, our belligerent neighbour always remains in constant denial of it. I am not against war if it is the only possible way to demolish the infrastructure of terrorism in Pakistan but the fact is, we already have had fought four. Did the things change? Over the time, our economy, our army, and our stature as a country have grown to an enviable height for our neighbours. We are strong enough to eradicate the roots of terrorism without a war. If we are a country with 70% literacy rate, we must reflect it. We are not like the nations which enter into war with just any country that refuses them favours. We have earned that reputation of being humble despite being powerful. Pakistan is near doom surmounting debt and almost no foreign reserves. A country with 80% population below poverty line and a terrible literacy rate resorting to unfair means is digging their own grave.  
A country is an abstract noun defined by geography and demography and is given life by the people inhabit therein. Pakistan as a country hates India as a country and vice-versa and the onus of this hatred lies on the script writers of the division to create Pakistan. Neither can we change history nor we can reverse the division. If you don't believe me check the social media where people from both sides spit venom forgetting that on these social platforms, they are not individuals but, they represent their country.The locals who caught the Indian Air Force Wing Commander exhibited the same hatred by beating him and by shooting on his leg. Wing Commander's batmen might be better of those rustic Pakistani villagers. Also, the same villagers lynched their own pilot who later succumbed to the injuries caused by them. Hatred couldn’t identify their own warrior. That's what illiteracy and religious fanaticism can do. As is the current state of the two countries, those locals represent Pakistan and the Wing Commander represents India. 
I heard someone saying that we should thank them for not killing our pilot and only injured him.Yes indeed. But, their intention behind keeping him alive was to torture him brutally to satisfy their hatred.Terrorism is an idea, a doctrine, a disease which cannot be killed by escalation even if you intend to wipe off the entire population.Khalistani terrorism in Punjab and LTTE of Sri Lanka are the two examples that have been eliminated by sheer determination. We should immediately change our policy of appeasement and partiality towards Kashmir. The controversial article 370 and article 35 A must have been abolished soon after the exodus of Kahmiri Pundits who were in majority in Kashmir. We need to act sternly against JkLF as we are determined to act against the terror groups on the other side of LOC. The support of our own people is a must more than anything. 
We are doing fine and let us not mar the wheel of progress by indulging into a war. War should never be the first option and for a powerful country, it ought not to be the only way out. That’s what being powerful should mean. The surgical strike in 2016  and the recently executed air strike corroborates that we can eliminate terrorists without harming the civil establishments.
·       The views expressed are personal.

A Tracker and the Heart Stealer by Rajeev Pundir

A Tracker and the Heart Stealer

By Rajeev Pundir
Whether he liked it or not, a writer should not pass a review on the works of another writer. However, Dr Pundir is a dear friend and has insisted me to give a feedback on his novel "The Tracker and the Heart Stealer". 
This is a repeat of plot by the author after his first book which was also based on the distrust and suspicion in husband-wife relationship. Though, this time, there are more twists and turns.I have read the previous book on the same plot. Dr Pundir understands the complexities of all sort of relationships especially the one, most of us find enigmatic- the man-woman relationship. He always impresses me when he expresses the POV of a woman.
Reading this, I had a feeling that a short story has been stretched into a novel. The first half is too slow and I battled hard to go through it while the second half was so fast paced that I sensed the author was in a hurry to end it. The second half could have been better.
Author’s age and experience of life reflects in the pieces that describe the atmosphere of protagonist’s home. The conversation and behaviour of a workaholic husband with his wife who is craving for his time and attention and the conduct of the two little girls respectively with their father and mother seems very authentic.

The character of Brijesh, the protagonist, could not impress me. He dreams to climb up the ranks but he lacks the qualities of a top cop. Going to fifth floor by stairs tires him and he is too dumb that he was easily fooled by a treacherous woman. Threatening calls from the betting syndicate make him shiver. The protagonist as a top cop lacks the power to perform physically, mentally, and emotionally. His ways were highly unbecoming of even a Policeman; forget an inspector or an ACP. I don’t know if the author has deliberately portrayed him that way but, his qualities are nowhere in sync with what he aspires for. A decorated Police Officer should not have given up as easily as the protagonist.  He could not earn my sympathy.
The few analogies made me smile while reading…
“Woman and a creeper are alike. They climb whenever and wherever they find even the weakest support”
"Whatever you give, nature gives you back multiplied….”
The story gives a message that it is important to strike a balance between your professional and personal life. Your family has a right on your time. Doom is inevitable when your ambitions outgrow your sense of responsibility towards your family.
An enjoyable read. Best wishes to Dr Pundir for his future writing projects. I know, his best is yet to come.