Hey what’s up

My dear friend

Unknowingly though, I am very much interested about you. I do not know the reason behind it, but I suppose the way you behave in different situations, it makes me curious. Curious as in to know how many different possibilities a life can shape up into.

A smile on your face is just a title. The book would be then on the different situations and moods in which your smile emerged. Observing you intrigues me even more when you push your limits and set a newer record in a competition, breaking a record which had already overwhelmed me.

Your curiosity has enabled me to reach the moon and even beyond. Even more wonderful is your desire for self realisation. Sitting like mythical sages in the cold hills of the Himalayas, so still for so long that even small plants and trees have started mingling with you, wrapping you with their bushes or roots.

It was only your scientific and logical mind which brought me out of the superstitious life I had been living for so many ages. I came to see God then not as a fearful lord of the universe, but as a friendly entity, present everywhere. 

Your ability to sacrifice the things dearest to you for some one else is so much commendable that I would personally recommend God for sending you to heaven or heaven like place in future. Your protective caressing has made our present lot so healthy and strong against any trouble. 

You are an awesome creature on this earth. I would like to salute you.

I will again talk to you some time :):)

Auto rickshaws in Gurgaon

If you have no respect for the space around you and want it to die as quickly as possible, an auto rickshaw in Gurgaon is the best solution for you. Not a moment would be spent before you realise that you have become a tightly packed molecule in the lattice of auto rickshaw structure. 4 people in each seat row meant for 3 people. One seat row behind, 2 seat rows in middle and one seat row in front.

Still an empty auto rickshaw

The auto has capacity of 3x4 = 12 people in actual, but like every one else, it has gained an expertise in pushing its limits, and daily keeps up with the challenge of having capacity of 4x4 = 16 people. If you are able to see the driver of the auto rickshaw, you will first wonder where he has kept his posterior, and then you will feel either pity or great respect for him after realising that he has given away all his space to the co passengers in the front row.

Co passengers in the front row deserve no less respect. In many cases, they are the victims of chivalry taught to them by daily customs which prompt a man to give away his low space but comparatively comfy seat for a lady passenger, as she is not supposed to sit in the front row. Keeping balance with half of his body still hanging outside, maintaining balance of his bag so that it does not tilt away from the passenger, holding the frame of auto tightly enough in a sustainable position for his hand and ability to handle the push for bigger seat space from behind, life on the front row is not easy and deserves respect, even more than the passengers in delhi metro, which can show some respite sometimes.

Women have no scope of feeling insecure in these shared autos because they are sure that a hand once jam packed can not move here and there. Their wide waists by structure itself further fixes the situation. Moreover, if there is a slight movement anyhow, it will be rapidly noticed as it will be the only movement visible. The culprit will, moreover, have nowhere to run away even if the auto was standstill, because by the time he would free himself from the tight packed lattice to run away, he would have been beaten many times by legs or heads, the most mobile parts of other passengers.

In the winters, the shared autos become a blessing in disguise for many suffering people. Sticking to each other, blocking any air from entering our clothes, in fact stuffing the auto rickshaw so much that almost no air can come from outside to inside, this helps many people from maintaining their body temperatures and reach office without getting cold.

If you enjoy cold and are not appreciative of this maximum space utilisation by the auto rickshaws, you have private autos as well in Gurgaon, which will charge you five times higher, but will give you space you needed and in most cases, also take you through the roads faster than their shared counterparts. But you will also then be in risk of vehicular accidents because they forget keeping paddle on their brakes.

In India where we people are super sensitive to touch, sharing space closely with each other for livelihood of a fellow Indian is a great example of how tolerant we all are as a society. We do not care who the adjacent person is, who has pressed us more than anyone ever has. He or she is as acceptable to us as any other person. A girl is sure that she will be comfortable because some one or other would give away his seat to her. The auto ride is in itself a big lesson of life, if seen from a student's eyes.

When she wished for …Time to STOP

They met like just another day,

Something was different, probably the strong sun rays.

The year was about to end,

They kept reminding themselves of the dryness ahead.

Holding hands they reached the top and dreamt of a special land,

They named it, they saw it right there in the sand.

Something was different,

As ruins suddenly had life in them,

Wildness appeared much calmer,

Weeds around felt soft like never before,

Their heart beats sunk in rhythm like never before.

Something was different,

Interruptions dint matter anymore,

Familiarity with strangers grew a little more,

Loneliness was lost elsewhere,

As he sang in whispers coming close somewhere.

She sensed the tickles, the warmth, the intimacy,

She felt complete for a while,

She feared endearment as dryness was around the corner,

She wished time to STOP for a while...

The ugly Indian

There is an ugly Indian in almost all of us. The exception can either be living in solitude or are not at all affected by Indian ways of doing things. But I am thinking majorly of the rest of the people, in whom an ugly Indian also resides.

While he boasts of the pride he has in being a part of the great diversity, he also diversifies the filth contents in places around him. The filth will contain all the possible combinations of plastic wrappers, betel spit, dung, mud, oil, waste food, small dead animals. For him, that is also a part of Indian diversity, so he is also proud of this, hence lets it be as it is.

A high population ensures that there is no dearth of manpower for any industry. It also means that if the opportunities are less, people will fight to grab them. And many will eventually be left out, waiting for next opportunity, with a greater resolve. Ethics and principles are tossed for getting the opportunity because the one grabbing it compromised with his principles. Others didn't hence he got ahead and got it. So the fittest is decided not by the strength of character but by the amount of self he is willing to sacrifice.

Bribing has become a norm now and everything is in order, a parallel revenue structure which promises faster work and lesser hassles to the dealers. For a transfer to some other place of their choice, even government officials have to pay some 'fees' to their seniors. "Cake katega, Sabmein batega" is a concept I learnt only a few years ago, but has been into practice for many decades.


We ugly Indians see republic day parade every 26th January, but we have never even walked 1 step in sync during our school drill or ncc parades. We have wished to hoist a flag in our houses but have never cared to stop someone from throwing a paper flag on road here and there. Obviously, the diversity of India lies in its soil as well, decorated richly with it flags spread here and there.

We also have great respect for our national anthem. But we would feel reluctant to stand up for it, because our respect will not reduce for our anthem if we are sitting.

We have remembered that Satyamev Jayate is the universal saying but our Satya is often so variant that it will not stand long enough to win. May we wish to be more ugly in future.

May be not. 

Ending with his love

You must have heard or read about Saint Dadhichi. He is mentioned in mythological texts of Vedic India. He gave his body to lord of heaven, Indra, so that a weapon could be made our of his bones, which would kill the daemon attacking the heaven.

Having detachment with one's body to such a level has not been heard of in today's world, but not very long ago, I came across one such incident, although it is only based on people's superstition.

There was a man in a tribal village in Chhattisgarh. His name was Hari. Being a man with his left hand paralysed, he worked hard, often harder than other 'normal' men to earn his daily bread. He would earn a little more as well as save a little more than others because of his dedication and self control. He wanted to get married so that he could have kids and could see them grow, unparalysed. That their left hand also could have power as much as their right.

With the help of elders of his family, he got married to a woman from another tribe. They gave birth to a child. But soon the child died. Though the tribals were expert in having babies in their families delivered without hospitals' aid, in this case, the trend continued and three babies had died, none living for more than 4 days.

Their tribal guru, the eldest one among them, said that the problem is with Hari. As long as he is alive, his kids won't be able to live for long. Hari wanted to see his children grow but his elder had prophesied that this will never happen. He thought of leaving the tribe but that would mean losing his identity forever. But he could do it for his kids. He left the tribe and went to a health center in Raipur. All health parameters were fine, but his fourth child again died in 4 days.

Hari had begun having faith in his elder's words. He returned to his tribe, worked hard to gain his trust back and served his elders even with his weak hand. But his elders won't budge from their warning. The only hint they gave was that the kid would have Hari's remaining life as well if Hari gave up his life for any child.

Another kid. This time, Hari had a pretty child. She was uniquely smiling and had glow on her face. He didn't want her face lose the glow ever.

In the night of her birth, he kissed his wife's head, wiped her tears and and tied his alm on his child's neck. He gave himself up to the adjoining river waters, never to be found again. The elders immediately blew a trumpet at his silent sacrifice. No one except the elders knew about his sacrifice before the morning emerged and his story reached the world.

This is how Hari, my father ended his life, so that I could live and tell his tale. I am proud of my father and I know he is watching me grow.

Bhanwari Devi Incident

Whenever her case appears on mind, a pain, but at the same time, respect also appears. Pain for the grave injustice that was done to the woman. Respect for the fact that she never gave up her fight, and finally led to formulation of what are now famously known as Vishakha Guidelines, in attempt to protect women at workplace.

I first came to know about this case while watching a crime show on TV. While Bhanwari Devi had gone to Police station to lodge her complaint, the policemen there were reluctant and as a proof that she was indeed gang raped, they took her lehenga (long skirt) and asked her to depart. Just thinking of it brings a sense of anger towards the insensitivity of the policemen. She had to go without her lehenga, exposing her legs bare, had there been no support for her fight from her husband.

In the TV show, some dramatisation is always implicit, but the dialogues for these scene were put so aptly that I still remember them. When Bhanwari had to decide on leaving the police station without skirt, or remain locked up in the cell, her husband said that a woman’s respect is lost when her legs are exposed. And a man’s respect lies in his turban. Tonight, a woman’s respect would be guarded by a symbol for man’s respect. Saying this, he took away his turban, unfurled it, and Bhanwari wrapped it around her waist.

In the night at 1 am, they were walking from the police station to the nearest saathin’s village, only to further strengthen the fight to victory.

Unjust to a great extent, but in such tough situations only is the best brought out of us humans.

Beyond 'Cityness'

Just 187 kms away from Delhi, in the state of Rajasthan, Lakshmangarh block of Alwar district in Semla village she walked in barefoot, without caring much about the dust, corns, stiffness she walked and walked. Probably a pair of shoes was a luxury to her which she might have indulged once in a while.  Seeing her barefoot reminded me of a TV show which I watched years ago on a popular music/fashion channel which interviewed celebrities with more than 100 pairs of shoes and a 20 minute show was produced covering an important agenda of shoe fetish.

Sitting right across her, was a woman feeding a baby. To be honest, I forced myself to believe that she is not the biological mother of the child as she looked much old to be a mother. She seems to lie in the grandmother category. Wrinkles on her face, boldness in her voice as compared to other women sitting in the group was enough to understand that she has most of it which makes her experienced and confident than others. I could not resist and asked her if that child was hers. To which she responded ‘Haan…mere hai. Nauve number par hai’ (Yes, he is my ninth child).  For last 22 years, Bimla has been bearing children. Most of them being born at home. Though her last child was born in a public set – up, for which she loaded herself on a bike while she was going through labour pains and travelled for 35 kms to deliver this tow and a half year old sitting in her lap. Bimla had less to choose from, she could have either delivered at home under the umbrella of local wisdom which an old and experienced midwife carried with herself or at a primary health centre nearby where there is not even a single female doctor and as the grapewine says even the sweeper at the centre is equipped to deliver. Adding to this she had no female support of village health government functionaries like ANM or ASHA, hence no one to do ante natal or pre natal checkups, to this daily dose of Iron folic acid tablets during pregnancy (supplied by the government) was just a bit too much to ask. This village is less than 200 kms from the national capital and lies in a much urban district of Rajasthan. Bimla had less to choose from hence less confusion, less decision making, less worry viz a viz a young pregnant woman in Delhi, who has to make tough decisions like which gynecologist to consult at first, which hospital to pick from a huge variety available, preferred delivery procedure, which room to select (double, single, deluxe, super deluxe) to name a few. And why not she is the most fortunate one hence has the power to take all such critical decisions unlike women like Bimla who comprise of close to 70% of population and are only exposed to less than even 5% of qualified doctors thus no options no worries.

But, is there hope? I want to believe that. In the same group were these two young girls who are in eleventh standard and wish to complete college. Let them be the change makers…

(This village comprises of 100 % tribal population with 60 families and atleast one family member from all the families is employed in a government sector). 

Traffic Constable in action

Our country, generally speaking, is filled with people everytime and everywhere. There is never a lack of people circulation in here. 125 Crore people mean, considering 5 litres blood per human, 625 Crore litres of blood circulation in our country. No wonder India is such an energetic nation in the world. But of course, nature of people varies and our diversity ensures that the basic nature of people does not fit into a fixed set. At the same time, you will see a man walking like he is always at a walking race and a man sitting like a dead stone on the road side. One side of the road may have plush green grass, well maintained by society appointed gardeners, and the other may be only a bushy piece of land, allocated by central government to state for development 10 years ago, but no action has still started on it. I think "Everything happens in India" is the closest generalisation one can make about India.

Everyone knows how they should deal with Police as well here. When in trouble, approach the nearest khaki uniform wearer and ask out for help, with all hopes that 'I am certainly going to be ok, now that police is going to look into my trouble'. But if the Police itself causes the trouble 'these rascals are just money eaters. They have no religion and only know how to trouble innocent families. Whole of their lives they will only lick those netas' shoes. Damned they be.' They take bribes as well. They sometimes spare us as well for our minor mistakes. Sometimes they even consider us as their own brothers and sisters. But other times, they would knock us up with lathi, slaps, and what not.

Wiki sample image

These assumptions are not very far fetched, and are developed only with time and after due observations. A traffic constable added one more point to my list of observations. A white Scorpio car had occupied a big space in an already congested road. It was not in motion though. On the car bumper was a flag of BJP. I was on my bike, so my movement was easier hence I had the liberty to observe what was happening.

The constable came to the driver, and asked him to move the car. But the driver wont even respond. Second time, the constable shouted 'nikaal yahan se gaadi, kahin bhi khadi kar do gaadi bas, kya samajh rakha hai' (move this car from here, what do you think, you can stop a car anywhere ?') To this, the driver shouted back, 'jaa raha hoon itna baukhla kyo raha hai' (I am going, why are you so restive). The constable hit his lathi on the road to warn the driver of the consequences. Some people had started gathering around in the already overfilled place, to see what was happening. It was the beginning of a small altercation between the BJP car driver and the constable. Seeing the sound of the lathi and a possible fight, the constable's senior also came to the scene and asked the driver to move the car or pay the challan for parking in unauthorised space.

The driver then moved his car ahead by some 200 metres and parked the car in the roadside space. He could have done it earlier but just because he belongs to a party forming a majority government in the center, he thought he is the king and can do anything he wishes. The constable reminded him that this is not the case and rules are there for everyone. He didn't budge under any fear and also stood for his cause in front of his senior.

I felt good for this man, who was belonged to a great but currently sick service, but who knew that the sickness can be removed by reviving the greatness of the service.

After the car moved and the issue was resolved, the traffic moved smoothly. I also moved out smoothly then from there. A few minutes later, no one would be able to tell if something had happened on that site. I thought 'This is how India is. Problems are dealt with and the flow and show go on.
'

Meet our weekly most read author - Mrityunjaya Shukla

Hi
Unfortunately, I am the most read author this week for the post "Childhood". Although the next most read author, Harsh Vardhan Singh is just lagging by 2 page views for his post "Bihari More Education Project", but I can not post his name.(I think I just did :P) Or I should exclude myself from most read author list from next time. May be I will go with that from next time.

I am doing job in Times Internet Limited, Gurgaon and am happy passing my 30 minutes every day writing on this blog. I am an engineer (by education degree) and am usually a happy person. It seems so odd to write by myself for myself!

I enjoy cycling and writing. If there is free time, and conducive weather, I would go out cycling and if cycling not possible, I would surf web or write some odd stories, bugging the web space with my thoughts. I hope to write some bigger text some day. :)

I would like more friends to write in my blog. So please share your stories. For getting authorship permissions, just send a mail to mrityunjaya.shukla@gmail.com with the subject 'Blog Author Request'.

Story of a peanut seller

He used to stand by the side of Sukhrali bus stand, always clad in clothes a little more than what anyone would normally wear. In the summers, there would be an additional 'gamchha' on his shoulder, a small handkerchief in his vest's middle pocket and a small turban on his head. In the winters, his jacket would be thick enough make him appear an obese man, though with a shrunken face. With big eyes and long hair, protruding out from his winter cap, he had such a peculiar appearance that anyone who would see him once would not forget him ever. His name was Alok.

So I encountered him after a long time yesterday. With a large flashy smile, he welcomed me to him theli. My friend who had accompanied me picked up a few peanuts and started breaking them to take out the nuts inside. If found good, he would buy them for the bonfire party in the weekend. In the meanwhile, I was busy observing Alok's behaviour. He was preparing bhelpuri for a customer, while also murmuring some musical notes. Seeing me, he grinned and raised his eyebrows, as if to say what's up. I smiled back and just to divert from the uneasiness, I asked him to give me some 'Gur ki Gazzak'.

His theli contained almost every item same as any other peanut seller. A fourth section for bhelpuri, majority section for peanuts with a heating earthern pot over them, a small corner for 'revri', 'gazzak' etc, and in between, a lamp to keep the passersby interested in his product. However his lamp was gas lit one and I was a little curious why he was using this one when the white LED lamps are so much in trend. They do not require filling gas as well. And they come cheaper also.

I put out my curiosity to him. His smile further glowed as he saw that I was interested in his work. He replied that because of heat from this lamp, the namkeen and peanutes near the lamp do not get moisture. Their crispy texture is maintained. If he used led lamp, which does not give out any heat, the items would lose their crispiness in no time and his items would gain him very less money then. Moreover, in such a cold weather, the heat by lamp is a big saviour for a man standing from 6 to 10 in open air.

His answer pleased me. He had no superstition or laziness in changing his old source of light. It was a product of reason that he decided to continue with the gas lamp. It's a good feeling seeing dominance of reason in daily lives of people at any level, more so when you see reason coming out from a person who you never thought of would have a reason.

"God is in Astrology" - B for bullshit

'Remember remember the 6th of September, the boy the girl and the astrologer. They were meant to be together, but the astrologer shove them apart. There is no reason why the day should ever be forgot.'

Our country, India is busy nowadays in enhancing prosperity, improving business ease, achieving scientific milestones, improving health of its citizens, and into many other fields. Its constitution has been very scientific but humane and ensures that the people remain the king and that all their liberty, their freedom is not infringed upon in normal times.

Alongside the emerging India, right since the British times, a parallel India was existent, which believed in Yogis, in the power of souls, in supernatural powers and more prominently, in putting some higher power into the cause for whatever has happened in someone's life. An India which had given a great respect to something unknown but just a product of imagination. Its true that those yogis are for real. I myself have seen two in my life. But they do not affect our lives and they remain in recluse. But because such people do not appear in common man's life, many fake ones appear and claim to be the yogis. Such trend has been existing for many years, but for past three decades or so, this has taken an huge size.

Contemporary astrologers are one of the breed with this ideology. Self claimed prophets who can interpret any fact positively or negatively, depending on their wish for the seeker. A very basic research by a leading newspaper observed that predictions by an astrologer see real time existence only 40% of times, a number even less than when one would predict without any knowledge, because then he has 50% chances of being right.

They force people to buy stones, gems, do prayers and havans so that they get a job, or their daughter gets married, or for that matter, they become parents. These stones will make the stars alignment favourable to the subject, the prayers and havans will please the respective gods and not following their suggestions would obviously make the troubled subjects remain in their sea of sorrows.

A person in sorrow is an easy bait to their knowledge. Neither sorrow nor happiness remains forever, so when the sorrowful person encounters a cycle of happiness, all the credit goes to the astrologer for improving his life. The more such cases, the more popularity for the astrologer. Seen with eyes wihout imagination, the astro had just been there with the man in sorrow. It can be understood that his companionship during the patient's provided relief to him, but how can the flow of time be attributed to the stones he has been wearing on his fingers.

It reminds me of a small incident. One of my knowns went to an astro. He was having money troubles and could not decide what is going wrong. The astro asked him to weat one stone in his middle finger, another in his index finger and one more in his small finger. He then put his pen and paper, and calculated the total amount to Rs 1.5 lacs, including price for the stones and his fees. The person said then on the astro's face "agar itne paise hotay mere paas in bakwaas cheezo ke liye to kya aapke paas aane ki jaroorat padti mujhe ? " (If I had so much money for spending on these wasteful items, would I have needed to come to you ?) The astro man was angry and forgot all the patience, politeness and pushed the person out of his cabin.

Many other sad events are happening because of the dark cloud of astrology encompassing people's lives more than ever needed. Broken love stories, bankrupt gone more bankrupt, fear in every unknown situation, less confidence in one's own decisions because stars are against him, all are outcomes of unproven superstitions and faith on self proclaimed prophets. It's better our generation gains intellect and strength to fight for their convictions and have confidence in their actions, irrespective of what alignment the stars have.

Bihari More Education Project

How a Short Film project turned into a Full-fledged mentoring programme for underprivileged children in Durgapur, known as “Bihari More Education Project”

In 2009, I made a short film with my friends for Microsoft Imagine Cup casting the local slum children of a location called ‘bihari more’, next to the Campus of National Institute of Technology Durgapur. The film theme was the use of technology & innovation in educating remote & underprivileged children. But children themselves being underprivileged provoked us to stand up for the children cause. This led us to conducting weekend teaching sessions for these kids at the local hanuman mandir. Gradually & unconsciously the project developed in an organised way, which is reflected in the performance & activities carried on by the children & volunteers in the project. Thus the project got its name, Bihari More Education Project a.k.a BMEP.

With a large influx of volunteers, BMEP also expanded to nearby locations of NIT Campus, touching child labour issue too. BMEP supports 76 children and got featured on YourStory.com, UNICEF, Michigan Tech IMPACT Magazine, Axis Bank ‘My Idea of Progress’ and many more publications, the BMEP Volunteers Team still believe they have a long way to go.

Visit BMEP at www.projectbmep.com

www.facebook.com/BMEP.NITD

BMEP Documentary https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9RRIBxrPNwk


Best Regards,
Harsh Vardhan Singh,
Founder & Project Director,
Bihari More Education Project, NIT Durgapur Campus

A New Day

Titania had come dead tired from her cafe, serving her customers late till midnight. Her colleague was on leave from today as she was to deliver a baby soon. She was only happy to take her responsibility, as that would spare her some stressful time, where the customers constantly ask for better service without giving a thought to the load she was having; 10 tables but only one waitress, a bit too much to imagine.

So Titania had offered to do work of two people, in hope of getting some time to sit on an accounts computer! The computer, she thought, would give her a much needed break, 'at least for a few minutes na'. She was excited for her new role as accounts manager-cum- waitress, as her new designation, even if ad hoc, would allow more employers to check her profile and hence better chances of landing up on a new job. 'May be I would be a full time account manager in the next job'.

The day started. She had come early, all armed for serving the clients happily. Before anyone could come, she switched on the computer and set her favourite youtube songs playlist. An earphone was missing, but 'ha...its ok. Even the video will be awesome'. As the time gaining speed, the clients started pouring in.

"Two plain Sandwiches, Titania", "One hot Chocolate, please", "Yeah Hi, I would like to have a black coffee without sugar, can you let me have an ash tray ?" Requests for service had just started gaining speed. "Yes sir, your order would be coming in 10 minutes", was her usual reply, as the restaurant had promised a maximum 10 minutes waiting time for the customers.

Her youtube was still waiting for her to perform. The accounts computer had silently gone to sleep and there she was, doing her primary job. Even the Sun was done with his daily job. She was used to long hours of service, just that her colleague would assist her at times the load was high. But today, she was on her own fully. Her abs had started showing signs of fatigue, but they would have to patient for 2 more hours, as the cafe would close at 10 pm in the night.

The time had come for the cafe to take rest. Titania turned the status bar of the cafe from open to closed, and then picked up the cloth to clean up the tables and floors. Thought of a youtube playlist had died out and only a plain white bedsheet, spread on a spacious bed would strike her mind. But no, she had accounts to manage now. Whole day the computer had been waiting, and now his turn had come. For the next one hour, she would manage the accounts, making excel sheets for the day and calculating the net earning and any damage if encountered. By the end of it, she was already yawning and swinging her head in sleep.

She reached home 2 hours later than usual, meaning she would be having either hours less to sleep or 2 hours less from her life, talking to her boyfriend. She managed both, cutting 1 hour from sleep and one hour from her friend.

She slept, thinking that 'tomorrow, I shall have my earphones and will definitely grab some time for youtube.'

The new day has arrived, and her hopes are alive again, the hopes have filled her face with glow and smile. Let's hope she has her youtube session today.

That Gloomy Day!

They met on a gloomy day to finally bid a farewell.

A chilly day of Delhi winters, no sun shine, drizzle falling, moist eyes, crying hearts but still she smiled once in a while. She smiled because he loved it. He adored sparkle in her eyes, she adored his giggles all this while. If one was upset the other was too, if one of them smiled it transferred to the other pretty soon. There was a need of that pleasant feel. There was a sense of physical, mental and emotional presence. There was love, expression, compassion and fights too. They were way to many differences, but they thought they are meant to be celebrated soon. Then what was wrong? why the farewell?

People said 'it's just the fault in your stars'.

Today, was different. They met, however the excitement of seeing each other, poking, irritating & being naughty with each other, was missing. Today, was different as they had issues to discuss, things to be sorted, some fights to end and the much dark weather just complimented them. Everyone else around them however seem to enjoy it. They both crossed young couples exchanging their body warmth and enjoying the chills. Both were reminded of their own days. When even such gloomy days used to brighten up when they held hands, when they just exchanged a glimpse of each other and yes not to forget when she smiled for him and he held her tight. But, today was different. She quietly sat in a corner of a amphitheatre, he shouted, she cried her heart out. Then she complained and he responded with wet eyes, she felt some pain in her chest, the cold was now no more pleasing he dint know what to do, but in the corner of her heart she wished he did something at least.

They both got up, walked as fast as they could, she was faster this time. The rain was hitting hard they looked for shade to protect themselves and before they knew they were stuck in a stampede. People were pushing them from all the sides, wetness and chaos is all what they felt. She felt like crying more, she felt uneasy and was unable to breathe. But she held him tight! She held him tight thinking probably its the last time. He in return made moves which made her relax in that crowd. He struggled hard without hurting others to make her breathe if not more. On the other hand she did not mind falling on him, taking his support, being one with him. After her father it was him who made
her feel protected this way. She knew that thousands of people in the stampede wont hurt her, she had full faith on him.They both held each other tight, he motivated her and pushing the crowd they were out and could breathe at last.

But, not to forget, today was different. Different because they had to say goodbye. Goodbye to uncountable memories, sensitizing touches, ignited chemistry, endless talks, future plans, surprising moves, random pings, awaited phone calls, unexpected fights, memorable city tours, unmeasurable love, different expressions and most importantly Geeta ka Gyaan (lessons from Geeta). I am sure after writing this post hundred other things will knock my mind which did not make it to the list but were special to both souls chatting away over a hot cup of coffee.

Goodbye, because it was time to move on or rather move away from each other. If not mentally than at least physically. If not emotionally than at least formally. Indeed it was hard, today was different as their eyes spoke more than words, their silence spoke more than their actions, their throat choked countless times. But they had to do it. As night approached they looked deeply in each others eyes for the last time before they said the final goodbye!

Do they still hope to meet again?
They dont know that. All they know is, that, now they want to see life unfold itself .

8 ways to waste your time

With man coming of age and inventing technology to ease our efforts to waste time, there have become uncountable ways of wasting time in the contemporary world. While earlier, any activity other than sleeping would contribute to society (in fact even sleeping would), now there is so much variety of activities that segregating them into waste of time and utilisation of time is a humongous task. Let us start with first separating 10 prominent ways of wasting time.

1. Eating like a buffalo - How many times have you seen this ? An already plump person, sitting in a cafeteria and chewing something, seen anytime in the day troubling the cafe chairs. He came there just because he was a bit bored. He was a little hungry as well, so why not indulge into some poori bhaaji.

2. Talking like a radio - Endless talking. It was as if god wanted to give competition to human invention. A radio would still stop working once there is no battery in it, But this person would switch on his pandora box as soon as his mind starts getting unsettling thoughts of not dominating over the silence. With more network coverage, he can talk at length to anyone in the world, money flow being no bar to the flow of the words.

3. Sleeping - It is a universal favorite pastime. Just go into the bed, under the blanket, and forget that the world is going to end. What not, it is not going to end anyway, so why make an effort and save it or our lives, for that matter. It would be even more fun if your dad, mother of wife do not wake you up for going to office or school.

4. Procrastinating - It works as an equiliser sometimes. If a person is not getting paid as much as he liked, he would obviously do the work at a speed proportional to the ratio between his expected and his received. But of all the other times, it is such a great way to avoid tension (momentarily at least), to disturb friends in their work, to do anything you like. When you are in mood of procrastination, you will see any other work more interesting than the work assigned to you.

5. Youtubing - One video for taking a break, plssss. That video proves to be the starting hinge in a chain of videos. You would give your strict mind a little concession and decide to stop it just after watching this video, just to repeat the same exercise after this video ends. It doesn't stop till some higher power hits your fears and you close the browser tab immediately and come back to work.

6. Malling - Enjoy the sparkling shops and their designer clothes. Where you have the luxury of feeling like a king or queen, when the shopkeeper would do anything to make you feel happy about a dress so that you buy it. You also have freedom to do anything nasty and get away, because nobody would know who did it, and by the time cameras are looked at, you are already back to your home. You would see pretty girls and boys and have a nice time making comments about them. When you return home, the hours pin would have moved by more than a quarter.

7. Porning - Now you may have grown up, but remember the days when you needed it and they did most efficient service to you. It is an underrated hero of lives of many people. It may have done a good service, the value addition is zero but can never be negative, even if someone becomes addict. It may have caused you to score a D where you could have scored C in exam, but it would never have caused you to get an F. It is a philanthropic waste of time.

8. Joining Dharna and rallies - Yo Yo AK Singh. Dharna has become a fashion now and you are free to go to Jantar Mantar and shout for our rights. Your manager or professor is not giving us due recognition and we need to go to dharna so that our voices are heard collectively. You are not concerned about the time which could have been utilised by not joining the protest of some social worker and doing your work. Going to join a political party rally is a matter of pride to you, more than getting pass marks in college. Of course, college or office can be done anytime but politics, it is once in a lifetime chance.

Hope you got some inspiration to waste your time. I will utilise my time soon, just after this video ;)

Childhood

I am very fond of my childhood days. Every moment was eventful and every action was a lesson in itself. Every story was a doctrine and every smile was intimate. Some of the incidents I have seen or gone through, that I can recall are:

There was a small kid in a park who came to me, saying "bhaiya mere thumb mein chot lag gayi hai. Aap mujhe ye chewing gum de do half, ye sahi ho jayega" (Elder brother, my thumb is injured, please give me half of this chewing gum, the thumb will get fine). I instantly remembered that I too had done the same when I was 5 years old. I asked my bench mate to give her half five star because "isse meri khaansi theek ho jayegi." She indeed gave me her half chocolate. In return for that incident, I too wanted to give my half chewing gum to that kid, but I didn't, for fear of chewing gum doing bad to the kid.

Once I was playing in school when I wasp stung me on my face. My face was swollen red and paining hard. I had to abandon my game and rushed to classroom where I sat heads down and slept in seconds. I woke up only to realise that I could not even speak without pain. All the more painful was the fact that all my classmates could see my distorted version. After I reached home, I was laughed at by my elder sister, and was labelled as someone having a gulab jamun permanently in his mouth. Thankfully, my mother gave me some medicine and the swell effect died out by the night.

I also see a small labourer family constructing a home in front of my house. They wake up early, take a bath in open, with women trying to hide while at the same time trying to bath. What intrigues me is the free movement of their young kids. They roam freely here and there, as if the whole world is their play ground. They make marks on the road and play stapu, not afraid of any vehicle coming on their playground. A toddler moves carelessly on the road, while the mother is keeping an eye on him from distance, lest a vehicle spoils his 'vishva bhraman'. One kid is staring at the side view mirror of a car, adjusting her hair repeatedly. They do not even own a house here, yet they have made their world so easy here. Dear kids, may you always be blessed.

The path of adolescence

You know, I am not the author of the post. I am just a common teenager. I am here just to write down some common challenges faced by people in my age group. It may seem funny to you that I am projecting my age group as an already vulnerable group which needs protection, while also aspiring to reach the skies. But on thinking a little, you will realise the seriousness with which I am writing here.

You can associate me with any of the mid sized humans you see in your house, in your locality, in your highways, in your urinals, in your garbage dumps, in your TV shows, young CEOs as well as among the prodigies. I can be seen enjoying in the discotheque all the night and also picking rats in the night for cleaning a locality. With such a great contrast in my life, you can think of me as an embodiment of life. And because I am still growing and changing, you should add to my definition 'with potential of greater growth and change'.



Just a few years ago in my life, I was considered a blessed person, child of god, star of many eyes. And just with changes in my body appearing, I started getting cautions, warnings and advices about how to behave with different levels of society. It makes me sick and angry at the hypocritical beliefs of people around me. Just ignoring the society gives me peace now.

I am also given a lot of toys to experiment with. Earlier the toys were very amusing to mind externally. The toys I got this time are also very amusing, but they go inside me to amuse me. I just tried them because the old toys would just not excite me. But you know, cigarette and tobacco can be used for variety of other purposes as well. I would never have come to know that tobacco can be used for cleaning teeth as well, had I not taken it. And waste is that fellow who has not had some sessions of weed smoke in his life, they say.

You know, I was also taken to Delhi for giving me a job for good money in return. There was hardly any doubt in me for my uncle with whom I had grown so much. Why I was given a household work when I had never touched a single utensil was beyond my comprehension. I had done 10th class so a clerical job would have done good. But now I think I am lucky, as many girls of my age are working as flesh workers in my own apartments. I hope nothing like this happens to me.

Ah, please don't tell me what to do and what not to. My father is the richest in the town and I am his only child. I am into drugs and I drive my car at high speed. I also have a big business of selling porn videos, but what is wrong in that? I am also, in a sense providing jobs to people. I have received a scar on my face and can't hear with one ear, but it's ok. I enjoy the risks in my life.

Don't you please think that I am too dumb at my age to be able to think all this. There is one of my mates who had cleared his graduation at an age of 14 itself. Challenge, when presented to me can not ever be too hard to crack. I can even defeat Vishwanathan Anand in chess, for that matter.

I am also a tea seller. I serve tea to all these employees coming in the afternoon. I wish to be someday like them. I learn what they say. Now I even know what a stock market is and why the sub prime crisis happened. I wish to earn a crore rupees.

I am a girl. I consider myself very sweet. I wish to be a good mother and please my family, so that never in my family a sad moment troubles my people. I know many friends of mine want to make their name in the world but I also know that my happiness will live with the happiness of my family. I hope nothing happens to my politeness and purity. Else my dream of a happy family will be blurry.

I think I am a big resource of energy. I hang on to any opportunity that comes my way. Sometimes I get good results by hanging on, other times, I make my life an exact opposite of happy. Once I got a teacher without asking. I love him, my teacher. He took me from the garbage and taught me how I landed into this mess. He also taught me how I can leave it. I wish all other adolescents like me get a teacher who would lead them to a happy life.

I wish all the readers also treat any adolescent with a sense of responsibility, assuming that they have an immense reservoir of energy in them.

Meet our weekly most read author - Neha Sharma

In the first week of opening the blog to public, the most read article has been "Sarpanch meets the US President". The article has been written by Ms. Neha Sharma, doing Phd in communitisation in healthcare from Delhi University. Her work is mostly oriented towards rural India.

Neha is a sweet girl who is very sensitive for elderly rights and wishes to do some thing big for making lives of old age people better. The mentioned incident is just a small one of what daily happens with the elderly in today's society.

Her field of research involves investigating efficiency of implementation of central government programmes for women and child development and health. Her work has been referenced by the PHFI and PFI.

In her free time, she, like many others, goes for shopping and enjoys spending weekends under the winter sun. She also involves herself with the Art of Living Foundation.

She likes to contribute to social causes and is ready anytime to give her hand to improve lives.

Seedha Khada hai (Standing Rigid)

Ragging sessions are sometimes filled with immense fun. Nowdays, it is a dreaded term to be used commonly; the trend had started around the same time we had joined the college. Some disciplinary probations, some terminations, some warnings etc, first two months of freshers stay witness such incidents, with increasing commonality nowadays.

But I am sure even now, the air in IIT K would not have dried off. It still must be having the cheer and excitement we all associate with these 'informal interactions.' Those sessions sometimes can even determine a career path for someone. Like one of my friends, who was put into Ham club, just for the sake of associating him with a club, and later went on making his career in this field only. Many budding speakers, writers and painters also emerged.

There was this hindi extempore speech competition in one of such sessions. The seniors would give us some small phrase, which might have another meaning as well, which young boys would grasp quicker than the civilised meaning. There were titles like 'Aam ke aam, guthliyo ke daam", "Angoor ka ras" and many more which I can not recall now. But one title, I remember very rightly.

We were sitting in Hall 2 quad and the senior would call any one of us freshers randomly, asking us to pick any chit from the lot containing the topic from speech. One of my friends got "Seedha Khada hai"!

I must admit that I had no clue what I would have spoken had I been given this topic. It was indeed a challenge not to utter any word demeaning or unhealthy but at the same time maintain the essence of the title. My friend was nervously smiling, looking at our faces, with a puzzled face. I was expecting my friend to back off. But he didn't, and came up with something.

He started with a storm that was destroying all the villages in Orissa. People were getting killed and government was helpless. There was no hope that could console the villagers that things are going to be fine again. Their crops, their carts, their huts, all were rendered useless by the heavy storm. But there was one tree which would not fall even after such a strong storm. Wo ped abhi tak "seedha khada hai. Aaj is ped ki sthaniya nivaasi pooja karte hain" (That tree is still standing tall and straight. Now this tree is worshipped by local residents). A story well framed and appreciated by all of us.

I was amazed by this story. It also left me wondering about the capabilities of mind to create. It can create anything at any moment. My love for creativity further deepened that day.

Heart in her Mouth!

I am use to travelling a lot by Public transport, to be precise the Delhi Metro. Even if I am blind folded I am sure I'll be able to make it till my college because I follow a similar pattern each day. However I never get bored of this routine rather I never feel its the same because every day is different from the day before. Different timings, different set of people, different degree of rush, different smells, different discussion among co - passengers, different hand holding couples, different(ly) annoying behaviours, different moods leading to the most exciting part different fights! No chance of monotony. But how much of all this actually gets registered? In twenty minutes of travel there is so much of moment that we  acclimatized to it so easily and become a small part of all the happenings around. Beyond a point there is hardly anything affecting us. But ofcourse some experiences are different.

Yesterday, was just the same. I approached towards the lift heading towards the platform in a rush. I was the first one to enter it and was greed enough to wish that mechanics of the lift worked as fast as they can so that I could make it to the college exactly on time. As soon as the two sides of the lift were about to hug each other and carry me, a man came rushing and interrupted. He entered the lift saying something gibberish in his mouth. Then he shouted looking at a woman. This woman was his mothers age, she had a tall structure, draped in a saree, head covered with a warm shawl, she walked slowly, considering her age the speed was just appropriate. She entered and immediately held my hand. Held hand of a girl who is new to her, who probably dint even care about what was happening, who was busy untangling her earphones. As nothing mattered to me same was with her I guess. She dint care who I was, how will I react to a stranger aunty holding my hand given the fact she was with a relative/son/or some known person. Irrespective she chose to hold my hand.

But as she held my hand something happened. Something which drew all my attention towards her, I instantly reciprocated and covered her hands with mine, two sided connection was build within a fraction of seconds with a lady of my grandmothers age. As this happened, simultaneously the man who was with her kept shouting and said 'isiliye mujhe aapke saath kahin jana nahi pasand' (that's why I dont like going with you anywhere). To which she responded with a much wrinkled, scared face (looking at me) 'Beta kya karun darr lagta hai...dil ki marzi hun mein' (Child, what should I do? I am scared...I am a heart patient). Her body was trembling with fear, she moved towards the door as soon as they were shut thinking we have already reached. She could have easily taken the stairs and would have reached the platform in her own sweet speed but she took the elevator for the person who was continuously shouting in the background without realising her will and courage.

Never the less, I held her and said 'Aunty, kuch nahi hoga...aapko pata bhi nahi chalega' (Aunty, nothing will happen you wont even get to know). In those 15 seconds I was reminded of my mother, who is comparatively young, born - brought up in Delhi but refuses to use the lift if she is alone or even otherwise. She has confessed many times that she is scared of being stuck in there.

Finally, we reached and I ran towards the metro which was standing still on the platform without looking back, now time was rushing again in my mind. I made it to the college just in time!

My fat friend

You are either fat or not. There is nothing hidden about this fact. However this sentence holds such a relative threshold for 'fathood' that no one can be absolutely called fat. So when I am saying about my fat friend, I am using his frame of reference, not mine.

This friend of mine has been with me since my childhood. And to keep him anonymous, let us say his name is Vaibhav. (Quite coincidentally, though, I have three friends named Vaibhav, who are... uhh... fat is a relative concept ;) ) But I am here talking about a Vaibhav who is not actually Vaibhav.

So, he used to come on his 'Hero Jet' adult frame bicycle to school, which could hardly be seen in contrast to him. His complete getup with white shirt and pants would remind anyone of a hotel bed, having a comfortable mattress, draped with a white bed sheet. His bicycle seat had already left its soul. The remaining corpse had withered away almost totally, and was asking for a repair, or a lighter ass.

So Vaibhav was heavy during school. But he was a happy friend. We were called as motu patlu in school. We went to different colleges after school as he was more into writing and I was more into sciences.

He was pursuing a girl in his college. Sadly, the girl said no to him, and adding to the woes, advised him to first 'become like normal people, not like normal elephants'. After that, Vaibhav always remained conscious of his weight.

He would not pursue a girl as long as he is fat, he told.

He started running, climbing stairs, skipping, crunches, relieved his bicycle from hell, and also, he started eating less.

No effect seen to his satisfaction even after first 5 months. But he would not leave.

I went for an offshore project for a year. We chatted and talked on phone during this time, and he would constantly crib about his weight and so much fat still present, hair falling, no V shape and all. I wondered if he was doing exercises regularly or not, because I would have seen super results had I done exercise continuously for even 5-6 months.

I was planning to look into what was wrong in his schedule after I return. But when I returned, he had a totally different appearance. He had developed good abs, heavy biceps, and had a perfect V shape coming.

I also saw his girlfriend beside him. It seems he was just making pranks by cribbing, and I could not realise this because this is what I had been so used to with him.

So my fat friend kept his commitment, and succeeded in his efforts. He was now fit, not fat, in his own frame of reference.

But we are still called Motu Patlu by our school friends. :)

But she won't leave her kids

I hate dogs, put simply. They look as disgusting by their mouths as they are by their tails. But I have to be sensitive of them as well, because they are also products of creation, like me. However much they wag their tails when they see an old man having biscuits in his hand, they would happily play with him as well for passing his time. They would hold his hand by mouth, but would never bite it. But at the same time, I hate seeing them roaming like kings of house streets. Barking randomly at any stranger, or a rag picker or eating waste near dump. Everything is disgusting about these street dogs.

Except their kids.

They roam on the roads unaware of the world, and don't care if a huge car is in front of them. The sleep like kings under the cars, unaware of the imminent danger of the car running over them and taking their lives.

It happened once. Two pups were sleeping under Maruti 800 car of a neighbour. The neighbour did not check if there was some animal below his car. He started the car, did reverse, at which point one shrill voice came to me, sitting in my balcony. Then he put forward gear, at thich point another shrill voice came. It made me curious and I ran toward the spot. Thw two pups were bleeding from their mouths. One was making noise, while the other had already left making any motion. Slowly the second one also followed. Both were killed by the neighbour.

I remember the open eyes and mouth of the pups. They went into the oblivion as easily as they came from it. But their mother did not leave them that easily. She did not let the sweeper aunty pick them up. She would hold her suit by end and no let her go to her babies.

She would guard her babies, seemingly to look out for someone who would bring justice for her kids, or whatever. She did not let anyone touch them for two long days. Finally she gave up. She left our colony, never to be seen again.

I still hate dogs. But I learnt from this incident that we all are the same when it comes to things beyond physical boundaries.

Sarpanch meets the US President

Sarmi Bai

Facing bright sun in the month of January (2011), after walking for about a kilometer, passing through golden fields of Mustard, I reached. Sarmi Bai dressed up in Red Oodni (scarf) welcomed me. Yes, it does sound like a screenplay of a bollywood commercial film. Strong headed Sarmi Bai, Sarpanch of Chandela Gram Panchayat of Abu Road block, Sirohi district, Rajasthan is a mother to four children. Her husband is physically challenged and runs a grocery shop in the village. Unlike many women Sarpanch’s who either come from a politically active family or take up the responsibility only for name sake as their work is taken care of by sarpanch’pati’ (Sarpanch’s husband), Sarmi fitted in neither of the two conditions. Life was never a cake walk for her, from fighting with her parents who did not let her study to contesting elections for the post of Sarpanch, she faced rejection and criticism from people at many turns in her life, which she believes made her what she is today. A strong, independent woman.  

Confident, strong headed woman touching her forties said ‘Obamaji mujhe bole ki woh bhi mere jaise parivaar se aaye hai’ (Obama told me that he also comes from a similar family). This middle aged, tribal, ordinary woman still couldn't believe that she met and shook hands with the President of United States on his visit to India in November 2010.  Sarmi Bai was privileged to be selected from all over the country, the only woman Sarpanch to meet the president one fine evening, in an event organized on 73^rd constitutional amendment act.

This was not enough. On returning back she realized that she was no more just a Sarpanch, her status had changed; from just being the head of the village to a celebrity. Sarmi was all over the local media, much more confident than before, sparkle in her eyes and ear to ear smile on her face said it all. ‘Ab mere naam se State ki GK ki kitaab mein ek sawaal bhi hai’ (there is now a question on my name in state GK book) said Sarmi Bai while sipping Lal Chai (Red tea) as we sat outside her house.

                                 

A teacher with less knowledge

He was the most ridiculed teacher in the school. Boys in high school would intentionally come in his way and would place their shoes on his toes and then say sorry sir. His class was never silent. he would be writing how Alkyl Ester would react with Hydrochloric Acid and the students would be busy in their conversations. But he would not utter a word to stop the class from creating disturbance.

His timid appearance was further reinforced by the small old two wheeler he would ride on to reach the school. His daughter would also accompany him on that little scooter, the suspension would be so pressed that the frame would seem to just touch the roads while turning. It seemed that the scooter and the teacher had shared a good camaraderie for long so now even their attitudes have become similar.

One year had passed since Manu had been in this teacher's school. He was now pretty used to the passive teacher, whose presence or absence just meant a free period and making fun of whom is risk free and yet very entertaining. Encouraged further by his friends, Manu decided to test Mr. Gophat once in his own subject. He took a problem from a book having advance JEE level questions, and next day asked the teacher the question.

To this, sir replied, "These are very advanced level problems and I would not be able to solve them. However, I would want you to be able to solve this problem." The students had a good silent chuckle at this reply. Manu, under pressure, also had a laugh, but he was also impressed by the reply. His image for Mr. Gophat had changed. A teacher who does not know much, but still would wish only good for his students. yes, that's what a teacher is supposed to do, he thought. Just a belief on the student was enough.

Next day, Mr. Gophat came and students were more abusive of him. First fifteen minutes were wasted because they would not listen to what was being told from board. Mr. Gophat's already low voice was in all manners subdued by the brownian motion that the voice of students was making.

Suddenly sound of a sharp slap exploded. All students silent. Mr Gophat had slapped a boy very hard. He was tremblig with anger. His posture had become static, but his head would waver with anger. His hands would also not leave the slap gesture, but also not move.

He sat on his chair for some 5 minutes, calmed down, and told "Kids, you have to go ahead. Don't waste your time in making fun of me. it would only make you a clown, only to be laughed at later by everyone. Come to your senses. Life is not always about mockery."

"A teacher with a strength, but would not use it. Why would he not use it to discipline us ?, "thought Manu.

10 years later, Manu went to Mr. Gophat's house. Mr. Gophat had retired, and was there with his wife. He had wrinkles now, but had a pleasing face. His brows had greyed and under his thick grey spects, they just seemed to thicken the frame. He did not remember me, but he was all happy to meet his old student. And seeing me doing good in life, he was relaxed,

I asked him why he would  not use his coercion to discipline the class.

"Bachche hain. Inki energy hi inki taakat hai. Darr se usay nahi kamm karna chahta main. Fool khuli hava mein hi khilta hai" (They are kids. Their vast energy is their power. I don't want to suppress it by fear. A flower blossoms only in open air.).

Her daughter was smiling as he recalled a little about that incident. She was in the same class as me. "Dad I did not think you would slap him. But you were very upset over the previous day question that Manu had asked." I was a bit embarrassed, but then a little amused as well, because both of them had a good laugh over the incident. She is my wife now. Her father's strength flows from her every moment.

This was the story of a man who had made me curious for the first time. Like, how can a powerful man not use his power to make things go his way.

 I, Manu, am myself a professor of Chemistry and I have never forgotten about the strength to not use strength against my students.

The Lady in Pink Top

I remember it so vividly. I was waiting in a restaurant for a friend to come. He was stuck in traffic and could not do much, other than waiting.

Coincidentally, I met his sister in the restaurant and I went to her. She was with her batch mate and both had come there to escape the pain of mess food.

Both pretty girls were playing heads and tails while waiting for the food ordered by them. They were just fitting the truth or dare with the sides of a coin. So some of the biggest truths of life or challenges were discussed on the table, and I had come there to join the fun, or spoil it. Their privacy was no more there. So we shifted from serious to light ended truth challenges.

I had a habit of deciding what future event I will encounter by hitting heads or tails from a coin. So in between, I said that if it comes head, then I will have a good career ahead else I will struggle in life. To this, Swati's friend stopped her smile and asked me not to give what is in my hands to lady luck. Decisions, especially the most important ones, are to be taken solely by one's will, not nature's will. The intensity of the moment was great. I was not able to reply to this statement made by her. Her words had stamped their mark on me.

 In the heaviness of the moment, my friend arrived. He brought the scene back to normal.

Thanks to her, I have never played my future with a coin since then.

Reshaped the blog

Hello
I have reshaped my old blog, actually without making much changes in content and design of the blog. Adding to this, this post is simply a check on whether new post feeds are updated on facebook or not. I hope it happens.

A small old incident

22:18 - I was in my 8th standard when I got a question in my chemistry quarterly (or half yearly) exam. The question was:
"Is Chlorine a Metal or Non Metal ?"
I knew the answer and I wrote it. I wrote  "YES"!

Of course it was going to be some thing between metal or a non metal. Hence 'Yes' is the most correct answer. But the teacher expected "non metal" specifically. I realised it a little too late while coming out of the examination hall through the gate after submitting the papers and seeing how much is likely to be correct.

I was lucky my teacher did not publicly tell what answer I had written.(4 mins)