The Architect

Every one knew that he had arrived, before he could come out his car. Film stars were too common people to share the dias with him. He also knew that he is godly to those common folks. He knew all people wanted to embrace him, but he was not concerned. He knew it was all just like what he had designed.
His hands were the longest a human would have had, but there was no restlessness in them; to someone, the length would have suggested the growth and maturity of his actions. His hands were once the formatter of the space, but he knew he would be able to build it all over again. And here he was, showing himself off in front of the people.
There were emotions running all around him, and the intensity surprisingly was increasing with distance from him. Nearer people were getting calmer and calmer, though it was for sure that he shared no potion with them; he was satisfied at seeing that everything is going on as he had designed.
There were a few humans who had learnt some of his style, and were marvelled by the power of the architect. By showing off their skills to the architect, they were able to attract his attention to them. He was pleased to hint some fundamental knowledge to them, though he knew that all his design is interconnected and one can reach from any state to any other state by himself. He had just saved those few humans some time, to become free from time, because he knew time was just his tape to record events, possibly for audit purposes.
He architected one of the biggest systems in the universe. He never came out of his car. Off went his car and people could only remember that he was here.

Her Long Lost Home

Her great grand parents had left the village to flee to Britain, where they thought life for Indians would be better. Reduced further in status and wealth, her grandparents survived on assistive stipend and meals provided by the government. Life was certainly not better for them. English government was no more the mighty and infallible one for them.
It was contact with Mark Spencer that changed the direction of waves of penury and despise. He helped Smita's grandparents set up a garments shop.As the fortunes changed, solely attributed to the purchases by the British nationals, respect and then fondness of the western culture kept on increasing till the time everyone in Smita's family had forgotten that there was an Indian element in all of them. Even Smita's formal name was Sue.
Smita's urge to know India came from her school friend whose family went back to India a few weeks ago. She would post pics in fb, all excited about her old home, ancestry and culture. Also during chats, she would ask Smita to convince her parents to come at least once to India, "Ok Baba, come to India only for Taj Mahal, can you ?", her friend asked.
Smita was also finding it hard to connect to the British students. Culture in her school was not exactly like what she would have been comfortable in. In lieu of escaping from here course, she wanted to come to India and see what it got for her. She read an Indian history book, geography in India, climate and many other articles related to India.
Reading things about India, she got curious about her own caste and her village, which she asked from grandfather. And as Smita's grandfather kept on explaining his family's culture, how they evolved with time, and what's there in India for them now, he found himself attached to his home in India. Just in a matter of few weeks, all tickets to India were booked and arrangements in their native village set up to receive them. Many in Smita's family were about to witness some things for the first time in their lives. The dust from fields, homes without air condition, heat of the weather, the ancestral property, instant connection with kins, and many other things were waiting for Smita's arrival.

All in Smita's family were received warmly, and were driven to Basti, Uttar Pradesh, where it all began, the family tree. The open fields were like Smita had never seen before. Homes with cattle and tractors were delight to check out. Adding to this, the smile of her relatives were too genuine to forget ever. Her summers had already begun with her trip to Basti! "It's a different feeling here", said Smita. She had reached a place where she could connect instantly with people around her, and also had a lot to learn. She felt as if
she had come to her long lost home.

Here comes October!

 

It started with October of 2009 when in a college festival, Lily the girl in blue skirt stood a little aloof in company of new found friends. She enjoyed the 'first time out of her house' feel, early winter chills, peacocks around the campus and freedom of being on her own. Right across her sat Abhi, as he was called by his friends. Abhi wore a black t-shirt, had a lean body type and twice complimented Lily for her looks. That was it. 4 days ended with Lily having clue how her life would change.

Same time in 2011, Abhi said to Lily, Lily lets be together as long as we can bear each other. There was a rush in Lily's blood it reflected on her face for sure. She turned red and dint know how to respond. It was her first time, she was a bit confused, dint know where exactly it was going but her heart smiled. She was rather in love with her computer she waited to chat with him, know him more certainly not knowing what future held for her.

Then came October of 2012, there were clouds of differences around both of them but none was ready to leave and walk alone. The came close with some hesitation. Abhi was preparing hard for exams, Lily tried to support him in which ever way she could. Love grew more and more.

October of 2013 was much brighter. Abhi agreed to change for Lily. Same date as 2011, he met Lily and said you are more important to me than my other 'to do things' in life, lets be together. The smile came back on Lily's face. This time she felt like a Queen. She thanked him and god. She could not remember any other day when someone made her feel that special. She thanked god for sending Abhi in her life. This year she turned 25 and celebrated this special day with her Abhi. Intimacy was at peak. Not knowing the happiness was momentary.

October 2014, they had split. Social pressures, differences in family mindset, they were incompatible. It was hard to believe but that was the reality. People whom they loved and respected dint wanted to see them together. They both decided to move on in life without each other of others sake. These others also meant a lot in their lives. Still somewhere they lived in a hope that things will get better. They saw a sliver lining, their energies were into each other like never before, feelings were much more intense in all ways, they both knew each other inside out. They both tried again, this time shouted their heart out but nothing worked in their favour.

October 2015, Lily received a mail from Abhi. A short note in which Abhi declared that he has 'moved on' he cherishes the memories but reality is different. Abhi has found someone more compatible and above all socially acceptable, he will be with her in a few days time forever. Lily had no clue how to respond. No response was never her way of dealing with Abhi's mail/pings/chats. She was alone, travelling for work and trying hard to deal with the storm. She responded and wished him luck as she always wanted her love to win in all situations. Lily wishes to be in touch with Abhi to see him rise in life, to share big moments if not as a lover as someone who meant something sometime :) a hidden best friend may be (Again going against all the odds as people around her suggest of something opposite).

Lily is still figuring out what 'move on' means and whether there will come a time when she will be able to feel the same. All she can think of is what October of 2016 holds for her.

Khud hi dhoondh len gaye Kinaare!

Dear Wifey, I love you

Its been not so long since we were bonded by luck. With you, my age has frozen to 25, and we were just introduced when I was 20.

I knew you were there, sitting for me, waiting for me to come to you; i knew it all. I also knew I have no one but you to come to. I proposed to you in the lecture hall, writing 'Lets be friends' on the page of your notebook. After you wrote 'ok :)', I kept a rose on your lap below the layer of your top spread on around your waist, so that no one else would see it. I also remember how secretly you hid it in your bag. No one came to know about us till we actually got married.
Dear wifey, it seems just like yesterday when we made our first trip together. We went to apple orchard in the campus, with you sitting on the front rod of the bicycle. I knew you were having some pain but still, the excitement was too much to think about anything else. Dear wifey, do you remember we fell asleep there ? The gardener eventually woke me up by pouring water on me. Its hard to forget these times.
Oh and what about the birthday girl's birthday ? :) The first time kiss of love. The smile is impossible to erase. Majestic the moment was. We went to mc donalds for a burger party and had a great time in swings in the market.
I came to your dad and asked him for your companionship. I love him, for he gave me you without an inch of doubt. He knew I will love you more than him. By the way, even I know that I love you more than him, so no worries.

We will have our 25th meeting anniversary tomorrow. In all these years, we have seen a lot. Amaya has also grown up. Some day I might get a surprise when somebody would come to me like I came to your dad.

I have kept my promise. See the yellow lilies lying in your vase. Waiting for you to wake up. Let me see what you have got for me ...

lol
loads of love

You're Beautiful

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/jamesblunt/yourebeautiful.html

Not all men are the same

I believe time for everything comes, a little unannounced and abrupt mostly. Same I think when issue of gender equality comes to mind; that its time is also coming, and more and more people are getting sensitised about the issue.

May be I am right as well in having this opinion, but some incidents push that hope on the back seat.

The post contains some explicitly offensive words so please excuse for them.

a. One fine day ajit was going to Delhi through a shared autorickshaw. As is usual, it was jam packed except for one seat on which a woman in her 40s, wearing a little dirty and old dress, apparently from a lower class came and sat. The space was less so her hips were squeezed between ajit and another man.

The man was already in disgust seeing that woman. And when out of necessity and no choice, the woman sat and pressed with the adjecentpassengers, the man said "ye g*nd lagaake baith gayi"... it was unbearable to the woman and she stood up and the sat on the floor of the already occupied autorickshaw. Ajit wanted to say the woman to not sit down and let the man tolerate whatever he has in mind. The man was succesful in displacing the woman from an equal status. And the woman, she accepted her situation, even if she had anger about theincident. She did not say a word to that man.
Ajit felt bad, but did not do anything because the woman would not come up and sit, he assumed.

b. Its a story of a region majorly containing middle class families, mostly associated and remaining in touch with their ancestral villages.
One night, rahman was having a party with his college friends and while returning from the party Venue, it got late and stretched to midnight. Rahman and his friends hired an auto to the college.
On the way, a woman in western dress appeared along with a man. The auto driver immediately exulted by saying "ye dekho sir chikni ch**t ja rahi hai"
It got rahman puzzled at what the driver meant and afterhe understood, wanted to slap the auto driver and abandon the ride.

These stories are,even if not true(but they're) baffling to imagine in a society which aspires for gender equality.

It is agreeable to consider the difference, only in some aspects, and that too not universally. But inspite of differences, why not be sensitive to a fellow person and let the environment be of all round peace and tolerance.

Dinanagar Incident

The basic highlights of the incident were like this:
1. Unidentified gunmen in army's uniform appeared out of no where and started shooting at a bus first, and then at a car, then went to a police station and started firing at the constables and inspector.
2. Pujab police rapidly came into action and surrounded the police station and was involved in fire exchange with the three gunmen(now deserving to be called terrorists) for 12 hours, till none of them was alive.
Story ended.

The government starts saying that the terrorists came from Pakistan's territory from Gurdaspur district in Punjab, crossing the Ravi river.
The statements, even with a substantial proof are not sufficient, as we have seen in Lakhvi case, for Pakistan to accept the accusations pointed by India.  Even the trend of faking like army men has been observed in previous two-three terror attacks in Jammu and Kashmir. But that is still not a sufficient proof. Without an agreeable proof, an accusation will make the relations sour. This is what is actually happening. In sour mood, there will be more ceasefire violations, more blames and lesser chances of peace.
I believe India had a better chance to get the proof of whee the terrorists had come from, had the three not been killed, but tranquilized, which could have been a very easy task as they were in a compound heavily surrounded by police personnel. In the interrogation, everything could have been extracted from the fake army men.

The government is appreciating the work done single handedly by Punjab Police in neutralising the terrorists, but it is not a great achievement in my view, as the task is only half done, and the rest half will be done in a negative exponential trend, as all the recent issues with Pakistan have been observed to take shape, positive or negative. All that is required is a small infiltration by terrorists or the government raising Kashmir issue as the mandatory condition for any future progress.

I can't imagine that the idea of tranquilizer did not hit the government. There must be some greater reason for neutralizing the terrorists. Chances of having bomb with them was also there. But the risk was equal while aiming for their lives. In my opinion it (tranquilizing) would have been a better way to handle the situation.

Growing up

Bhanu had lost his fiance in a car accident a month ago. She was drunk when a stray dog appeared out of nowhere. She could not control the speeding car and rammed herself to a street side tree.

They were together for past 9 years and memories with each other had become a normal event for them. From going to busy mcdonalds to give a first treat to Samyukta, to watching a romantic movie at peace in their apartment, memories had become an inevitable part of their common lives, which they enjoyed with love. Very soon they were going to be married.

He had grown up with Samyukta. Together they grew up observing each other, becoming adolescents to adults. Bhanu's success in 12th boards would be rewarded with a treat by samyukta and her getting selected into AIIMS would result in Bhanu choosing Delhi University for graduation. They had visited almost all places in Delhi, spent great times in trips to Ladakh, Jaipur, Agra and many other nearby places. Europe was their target for post marriage trip.

She is no more in this world, leaving Bhanu alone. But Bhanu can's lose sight of her. He sees her in every restaurant sitting beside him, while talking with his clients, or dating a prospective bride his parents insist him to meet. "There in ccd, I gave her first lily. She cried as she knew I would never pluck and hurt a flower for anyone, but I did it for her.", "This place's ambience has changed since the last time. It was so much smelling that day. We had to leave the order and run!", "This girl has smile just like samyukta".

He would cry and choke his throat out, blaming no one but life for his loss. "What if I had gone there and did not allow her to drive ? My client was not that important.", "She could have booked a cab na", "It was me who gave her a drink the first time".

For some days, his parents would hug him and tell him that life has to go on, and even Samyukta would wish him to go on and grow up even more.

One day he had a dream of Samyukta. She was wearing a bridal dress, a red dupatta draped around her head. He was not sure if the form of Samyukta he was seeing was of a bride or of a woman on her deathbed. She was smiling nevertheless. He wished it was a bridal one. He wished to touch her, as this is what he wanted for so long, them getting married. The Hands wouldn't reach! She was not going away, but the hands would't get to her, even when she was so close to the eyes.

"I am waiting for you. Be safe, Bhanu.", he heard these words in his dream.

The next day, the pain of memories didn't disappear, but Bhanu was a little more composed. He realised that he has to grow up without Samyukta. He somehow got a belief that the dream was true, and that somewhere, Samyukta is waiting for him, a place where he too shall visit after dying, just like her. "She has just chosen to wait for me out there." He too chose to wait for her.

-------
I know that among us,  there are many such Bhanus and many such Samyuktas. May their love never have to wait for their lifetimes.

School in the Same City!

I got a chance to visit one of the Govt. Girls Senior Secondary School in North - East District of Delhi (almost touching UP border). Before even landing at the school, a blur image was constructed in my mind. For instance, children seated in classes, teachers busy with the usual record maintenance work, some basic infrastructure (including table, chair, blackboard), and so on. However, my city gave me a shock. As I entered the premises of apparently the only 'bada school' (Sr. Sec) catering to a pretty large population of a semi - urban area.



Some much - visible observations:

- Only Class 10th and 12th were privileged enough to sit under a roof, rest of the classes (6, 7, 8, 9 and 11) were suppose to enjoy the sun after almost a week. Yes, after a  week as it rained thus no school for last 4 -5 days.

-  The arrangement was so temporary that at chhuti time (end of the day) girls picked up blackboard and dhari (woven sheet) and placed them in the store room (space utilized under the stair case).

- Some fortunate teachers occupied space under the trees, rest were left with two options either the corridor or  sun basking.

- Teacher sat on a chair, 4 ft above children who placed themselves on Dharis. Even if the teacher was willing to teach her voice could hardly reach beyond the third row. It seemed as if the class ended after first - two rows as rest of the girls were either busy copying notes/homework or chatting.

- School offered different timings for different classes. Std. 6 - 8 (10am - 12:30pm), Std 9 - 11 (7am - 10am), only girls in Std 12 had classes from 7am - 12:30pm not to forget without any official break time.

-   As the classes merged into each other, there was no distinction some girls took advantage and utilized their time catching up with friends in other classes, However, this act was just not acceptable by a teacher who went around hitting them. The Ultimate shocker of the day.

Probably all of the above is pretty much imaginable, But what really kept me thinking is...that this is the same city. Same city where nursery admissions in top notch schools become headlines, where even a small pat on back might risk a teachers job, same city where AC classrooms, swimming pool, smart boards are quintessential points for parents to decide and rate the school. Same city where in some schools speaking in Hindi leads to a fine. Same city where young minds opt for private teaching than teaching in a govt school. Same city where more the donation more it is considered a matter of pride.

One of those days, when you put your head back and retrospect for a while!

Victory without war

I am a paraplegic. Oh did it make you sad ? Please don't be, because I just said half of my sentence. I am a paraplegic millionaire businesswoman who has just entered global markets by launching IPO of Jia Tech in Nasdaq.

And believe me when I say not a single step has been thorn free. Though the greatest pain was not when I stepped on thorn for the first time. It was greatest when I was pitied.

My legs gave way not because I wanted them to. I wanted them to take me faster to the goals staring at me. May be they gave up before me, or it was god's will when my legs got under a falling roof, or they sacrificed themselves for my life. In that case, I must be more thankful than complaining.

I must be lucky to be born on this age where locomotive disability is no hindrance to work, especially in a field like Information Tech, where only soft soul of hard machines have to be developed. It requires only brain and for some speed good to work with hands.

After having served in an giant MNC for close to 10 years, I thought of taking a plunge into entrepreneurial sea. There I got some of my best friends along with satisfying but tough challenges to be overcome. I also met my childhood friend Arshad there. He said he loved me since childhood. No one knows God's plans unless it comes in front of your eyes. I married him 10 years back and we together started a firm Jia Tech, naming after our baby. I don't know why it felt good naming it after our child.

These 10 years have been full of pride and success. I am still a paraplegic, but I have a partner who never let that appear in our togetherness. Some strangers do take note of that, but the professional doubts have eased out now, as the company has earned reputation now and it is now more than just me.

My grit and brain...and of course a higher power whom I call God, have been contributor to what I am now. I am sure the same is applicable to you too.

I am not going to lose these three valuable items in my life. And Arshad and Jia... well they are the ones who were pushing me to write a small article about me. Their presence has given me more strength than ever.

All the best dear reader! I know you can also do it.
This is Rakshandha Haveliwala, Founder CEO of Jia Tech, signing off.

---
P.S.- proud of Ms Ira Singhal

He said - She said

He said you are the queen of my heart

Your place shall never depart 

You will live in one safe corner 

With memories those shall charge me forever 

She said you are leaving me alone 

What if I wish to  seldom grow

You have left an unseen mark

The traces of which are so very dark

He said be strong 

My arms shall remain open, hidden from all  

You were special all this while 

But not enough to take that flight 

She said I warned and warned since time

She ran hard and hard still was stuck in rime 

Coldness of which could be felt by both

Others felt the warmth by this oath 

Time was to bid farewell 

As newness was touching with despair

The less spoken about the good times spent  

Would save them both from the future dents 

For the NAME sake!

I wonder at times, how important is it to give a name/tag/label to things/situations/issues/people/relations in life. Does giving a name make a lot of difference? Does it create clarity in the minds of people? Is social sanction the ultimate thing which drives humans to be or to ‘not’ to be themselves?

Well, I am certainly struggling to find answers. And this time it is about an emotion. I don’t know how to address it, what to call it (the name thing, yet again) but I refer to it as Love.

Love which is being described in infinite ways, which is experienced by each one of us variedly, which is called by different names, whose intensity cannot be defined, one which is not limited to any particular action, which at times negated and sometimes accepted in its most blur forms but whatever it is…something is there for sure which is understood uniquely by each one of us reading this.

I too have experienced it, each time differently. Through words which only I understood, through extra smiley’s in those texts, those odd timings which did not matter, those initiations which set the mood, through that first unforgettable touch, that ugly fight which strengthen the bond, that haq (right) which was exerted each time, those new names which defined me like never before, those never ending laughs, sharing tears, time and telepathy, through developing new tastes, through acceptance of self and others around…and I can go on and on. Can I give a name to all of this? I probably did...somewhere in my head. I did not publicized it neither I questioned it.

Months passed, it was time to give a sanction or otherwise destroy it forever. Giving it a label was in hands of people closest to me but not close enough to feel all of the above. Days passed I flapped my hands around…all went unseen, with a hope though that someone unseen is seeing it for sure.

Silently I cried, the more I did the more it was going far. Some said I did not flutter enough, some said this is how it is meant to be, some said what’s the point you are over reacting, some said end this emotion soon (no name no gain) and best were those who over looked it, they surely felt some drops but still did not dare to look at me flapping all this while.

I could not give it a suitable name. A label which is accepted by the society, which keeps everything bounded, which is best for people around, which reinforces a positive image, which gives regard to live and be respected.

All this while that little emotion lost its way or was it made to lose its way. It was ignored under different pressure conditions and I was asked out slam it forever and ever in no time left in my hands. Well, most of them said that’s what you are meant to do, for how long will you enjoy without a name? For how long will you be regarded as ‘the other’ thing existing? End it for NAME sake!

I asked to myself, again and again, how important is this name after all? Can’t this emotion breathe and nurture without a name? Does without a label it has lost its standing? Never was there a label, so all of it was waste?

I am being made believe these days that is exactly how life works. Beauty of a flower is appreciated by its looks and names far – far more than those seeds which were quietly buried under the soil. 

Work by a bunch of few, to affect not just a few

We in TIL (place I work currently) are coming up with a product to analyse personal finance of people. While I am too little an entity to describe the future of the product, I can say that a lot of work has been done on it and planning has consumed huge amount of grey cells from us, only to give us more peace of mind.

Its been 3 months since the concept was actually given a skeletal structure. Even now, the baby is only ready and not yet out. Our teaser page http://www.smartspends.com/web/invite-signup.html is up and running, and those who are excited for the app should compulsorily sign up to feel the progress.

Late nights of work, early hours work while still lying on bed, deferring getting out of bed not to sleep more, but to get the code working, our task has not yet ended, but it is good that everyone in our team has put great effort behind the product.

This is just a snapshot of the scene in our team. And the environment it is hinting at is a very small part of the dynamism happening throughout the day.

So overall, our product is going to come to market soon. Register yourself to get the latest updates, and ride the world with us!

Our Mother in Gurgaon

Surprizingly she is not a she but he. He had been with us since 2005, but then his status was of just a common bhutiyas that we all bachche are normally. He had even committed big blunders in his college days. We never expected him to be our mother and take care of this house as nicely as he has done in all these 5 years.

Mr. Vivek Bansal has already been honoured with the title of a super friend, and now he is hereby conferred the title of the best male mother as well. Going to take sabjis every week without fail, scolding Rahul just like his son, tolerating mrityu like he does to every jackass, handling JP in his best form, paying bills on time, never letting his landlord Mukesh say any word over the state of house or rent or anything... he has done it all.

His aura has not been identified only by me and my fellow room mates. Street dogs from Delhi to Corbett, all were super fond of him. The dogs would only wag their tails when Bansi was near them. Of course they got biscuits and other eatables from Bansi Ma. See how in the pic, the doggy's eyes glowed up when bansi ma is beside him. He is indeed a true roadie. Ask about it and he will tell you how it feels to be a roadie.

Now, Gurgaon would be left only with his memories. He is leaving his kids for blessing some other place. God did not like him to stay here for long. He has sent him to a distant land. Now, Mumbai would be where our mother would live. These are sad days for us. We don't know how we would survive in this cruel world. My brother has already had his 38 inches waist pants useless, because now they don't hold onto his waist now. He has gone so thin in grief that all his dresses seem to be bought for two Rahuls.

While we come over this tragic loss to us, we would pray that Bansi ma is kept happy wherever he goes. May Johnson and Johnson prosper in your manager-giri and more and more women benefit from Bansi ma's product.

Alvida Bansi Mitr
All the best for your career in Mumbai.

Summers

She was waiting for them to come. Her idea of happiness was somehow so much 'summerish', she used to say.

http://seeurimage.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/
Summer-Couple-Beach-Wallpaper.jpg

"Look Rahul, I don't want coldness in my life anyhow. You know it na, even the brightest of flowers wither away in the air of coldness. Please na Rahul, no honeymoon in winters, please. Ok wait, lets go Andamans. No no, we can go to some better place...mmm, Miami ? No No, not there..." In the excitement of marriage next month, Shivy had spent innumerable hours in planning what she and Rahul were going to do after marriage.

A few months back, they were having the toughest moments of their lives, with both of them stuck in life, for they never wanted to hurt their parents and go against their will in a decision as important as marriage. Still, they would take out time and have auto rides through many places in Delhi. The winter sun would warm up Shivy's icy cheeks. Rahul would sweetly call them 'ice cream'.

Their parents could not agree to marriage proposal because 'Rahul is just a kid and he can not decide good or bad for himself,  She is from different community; won't find it easy to adjust here.' On Shivy's side, the conflict would be 'they are service class, middle class people, certainly they can not handle her properly. We have different lifestyle.' They had not agreed to meet each other even once since two years, when he had asked Shivy's parents for Shivy's companionship.

But this summer, Shivy was going to forget all the pain of previous days. Rahul was going to marry her and both parents reluctantly, but convincingly agreed to get them married. Rahul, in these 2 years had shown himself to be much stronger and mature than what his parents had thought about him, and Shivy's parents could not get away from seeing Rahul's success in life. Both parents' doubts had died out in this span of two years. Their 2 years of pain had given way to life time of Satisfaction.

"I know, super. We will consult Ashvini Bhayiya. He will tell us some very good places to visit. We still have some more time to our day. We will decide on this soon. "
.
.
.

"Yes Yes, super. Your summers are coming :)"

Standing Ovation

A few days back
I was watching Mary Kom with family. Movie was average with a few inspiring moments, but what charmed me more was the behaviour of the audience in the theater.

As the movie was ending, showing Mary Kom as the winner of the championship, and standing on the dais, gracefully accepting the gold medal, the movie plays the National Anthem of India. I was sitting in the rearmost seat so I could see all of the audience, at least by their dark figure.

So there was a person who had stood up even before the Anthem was played. I thought the movie is ending so he must be leaving a little early to avoid the exiting crowd hussle. But he was only standing!

Then the National Anthem played and I was reluctant to stand up, a little concerned of fun that my brother and sister would make of me, like the lone standing guy. So I was sitting. Then I saw another guy around 10 seats away from the standing one straightening his knees. And then a wave started. 2 more stood up, then 4-5 more, then suddenly, all stood up. My brother sitting beside me, murmured ‘oh sabko uthna padega kya ? (oh do we all have to stand up ?’ So we were among the few last ones to stand. This all happened in a matter of 4-5 seconds. How a single man standing up in a front row reminded the others to pay respect to something which does not affect their daily lives from a close distance, but which has become a collective conscience of a group, so strong now that a single man can influence 200 more just on behalf of that thing, and that too without saying a word.

A light of patriotism is brightening in every heart here. It is encouraging. The clutches of self before service are loosening, even if still tight for many. It was not that the crowd was giving standing ovation to Mary Kom for winning and making our country proud. In my eyes, the people gave standing ovation to themselves, keeping the Indian Pride alive and beaming even in the darkness of the hall.

Happy New Year!

One year ended and a new one started. But to Nazma, the transition was irrelevant as was the border between India and Pakistan.

She had left Pakistan in search of better life in India. 40 years ago, the rangers were not as alert and harsh as they are today. She crossed the border with her kids after giving a small bribe to the rangers. Nothing more had thrilled her more than the new life that was about to start in her new country. The only possible upset was that her husband did not leave his place. She was alone in the new country.

Since then, a lot happened and a lot changed. One of her kids got killed in a mine blast. Her vision had also started developing some troubles. Her life had certainly become better monetarily as her handmade woolens had gained repute of international status, but that was not what she desired now.

Irfan, her third kid, her youngest and dearest kid had been living with his father and she wanted to meet him now. Nazma had sensed that she is not going to live for more time now. The old age will not let her travel much with time. Her shop was running well and was looked after by her son, who had sensed his mother's intention of going to Pakistan. Since then, he had locked Nazma in her own house. If she had to go, she would have to do it alone and also after leaving her child in India.

New year celebrations in Kashmir do not happen that often but this year, a little glamour could be seen as a reputed star had shown his generosity to the residents of the valley. Irfan had accidentally left Nazma's door open in urgency of watching the show. Nazma took no time and left with 4 layers of woolens and a bottle of milk.

She still remembered the path and nothing had changed for her. She realised she had become 40 years old Nazma again. Her journey to Pakistan, back to meet her son had started. Through the jungles and open rivers, she knew how to cross them, just that her body was not as robust as it was last time.

Rangers have not seen her until now. She has been going steadily. Her vision and age, both have just got better mystically. her new year has started with a journey with now expectations but with only a goal dearest to her heart. The journey itself has brought back life into her. How it will end, neither she would now, nor would she like to waste her time on it. She, 80 year old woman, is walking as speedily as possible to see the child she left.