the Neeraj Norms...

The Science of Spirituality

2011-07-22T16:54:00.004+05:30

July 22, 2011 Pune, India - The so called scientific advances and technological innovations have gifted us many things in the recent years - from smarter modes of communication, to high configuration personal computers and smarter cell phones to name a few. Being an everyday person, it is very easy to adore these technological advances and adopt them into our day to day lives. They are to make our lives easy and easier with every single passing day. Certainly, it is obvious for an everyday person to continually strive to gather ease in leading a modern human life and technology has been instrumental in achieving this goal to a certain extent. This is a general notion we have of Science today. It is about all that we could feel, see, touch and reap benefits out of. If one comes across something which is difficult to comprehend, he would immediately reject it, terming it as superstitious or unscientific. As for the phenomena which objectively exist around us and impact our lives, people do not dare speak about them. However, some people have very rigid mentalities and pass reckless opinions about subjects they do not comprehend. Whereas, the phenomena that are tangible are all labeled as topics of science. No seeing, no believing - this is how the world sees it today. It is indeed sad that spiritualism is still categorized as a philosophical topic. And when it comes to philosophy, modern people have a petty casual approach towards the subject. This is a big hurdle in the enlightenment of common humankind.

No matter how far a spaceship can fly, no matter how long medical science can prolong your life, no matter how many technological innovations man could make, it is too much confined to our physical materialistic world. The so called progress of humankind is a mere notion when it comes to the high level truths which greatly impact our lives. It is just too easy to not believe them and this is the reason why despite so many scientific advancements, modern human is still not able to figure out how a brain functions, from where feelings originate and how the mind works. Opinionated people find it very easy to categorize all such topics as paranormal or within areas of future explorations. The fact is that, with the present approach of science and with the current set of notions, it is impossible for humankind to know the truths of the universe.

Spirituality is still a mystery to many. Some are not clear enough with their correlation with religions. There are so many religions and so many practices in society today. So much so that people just do not understand as to why really they exist. On the contrary, everyday people have extremely strong notions about their religion or sect. Some people may fall prey to some serious sins like killing in the name of religion. Religions have been instrumental in shaping the lives of human society since an ancient time. However today, religions fail to provide their real teachings anymore and their real purpose of establishment has itself become obsolete. This is primarily because human society has changed and so are the standards that discern the good and the bad.

It is no doubt that our world today has become too much materialistic and most of our notions are greatly influenced by various pursuits of personal gain. This is common in the world of everyday people. People are just too much confused when it comes to social interactions and leading a life. The same applies to any spiritual practice. For most of the people, spiritualism is meditation. There are many theories and books available in the market that teach various techniques of meditation. They are written by everyday people bearing various pursuits for fame and personal gains. They cannot really teach a genuine way towards enlightenment. With various pursuits and everyday people desires in mind, one cannot progress. This is absolutely true.

Spirituality is a cultivation practice in the real sense. A genuine cultivation practice involves cultivation of both mind and body. Meditation is a form of physical exercise which supplements the cultivation of mind, providing spiritual energy to unveil the mysteries of the universe and self improvement. I understand that today there are a zillion practices present with various masters that provide their teachings. Almost all of them provide their teachings with a pursuit of healing and fitness. This includes Yoga, Reiki and many more. In the midst of so many things, it is very important that a person remains single minded and stick to one practice. A person who just keeps on studying theories without practicing them will ultimately land up doing nothing. This would be a very difficult situation since his mind will be too messed up. Single minded-ness is the key towards advancement in cultivation and spiritualism.

So far, only the Buddha Fa has been able to provide a complete insight into the mysteries of the Universe. Now what exactly is the Buddha Fa? Let me highlight that it is not related to Buddhist religion since the original teachings of several religions have now become obsolete. Falun Dafa or Falun Gong is a spiritual practice which truly allows its practitioners to ascend towards higher levels of cultivation. There are over ten crore practitioners worldwide. As of today, only Falun Dafa is able to provide the true teachings of the Buddha Fa. The practice consists of five set of physical exercises which includes energizing the physical channels of our body and meditation. All these exercises are easy to learn and the instructions can be freely downloaded from the Internet. Zhuan Falun is the book which is a complete teaching of Falun Dafa which could also be downloaded free of charge. Truly, a genuine practice is always selfless and regardless of any pursuits.

Spirituality is all about complying oneself to the characteristics of the universe under any adverse circumstances. Truthfulness, Compassion and Forbearance are the fundamental characteristics of the universe and conforming to them is the ultimate requirement of a cultivation practice. Exercises and meditation are supplementary. If humankind is able to have a fresh look at the universe and the things around him, science will get a better definition.

Accept What You Cannot Change, Change What You Cannot Accept

2011-04-21T16:01:00.006+05:30

April 21, 2011 Pune, India - If someone walks into the middle of your life and tells you that your life isn't really the entire truth of the universe, what would your reaction be? As an everyday person, you would reject him instantly. You would call such a person, mysterious, superstitious, insane and so on. The same is the case with our Falun Dafa or Dafa or Fa. The extent to which you study and practice the Fa, the closer you would progress towards the truth of the universe. Unfortunately, for an everyday person it is very difficult to give up his rigid mentality, prejudiced views and his past learnings. This contradicts with my current knowledge and beliefs, he would protest. This all seems hypothetical theory which is hard, way too hard to believe and follow. As the Fa says, humankind must fundamentally change its conventional thinking and open up their minds to accept new ideas and approaches. Otherwise the current civilization will forever continue to crawl in between the boundaries which is delimited by its own ignorance and prejudices.

Imagine the world in which we live today, our interpretations of progress is confined to what we refer to as scientific advances, technological progressions and the amenities of the modern human lifestyle. If a couple of hundred years back, if someone said that man would be able to walk on the moon, then he would definitely be declared a fool, superstitious or an idiot. Without even having a spacecraft invented, how can a person really talk about a theory of man reaching on the moon? It would sound like a joke. The mentality of accepting unforeseen facts, possibilities or a form of existence entirely depends on the mind-set of human beings. I have seen several people around who do not understand the facts but have a very strong opinions about some unforeseen truths. Instantly, they reject things that does not make sense to them, they do not comprehend or they are unable to understand.

One of the biggest problem in the humankind of today is their rigid mentality. They believe only those things that they have seen and experienced. They are not willing to change or experience new things for a simple reason that they do not comprehend it, find it too hard to believe. Their channels are blocked and minds are locked. If technology is what can be seen, felt and heard they gather a firm belief in it. They wholeheartedly accept it as the absolute truth of the universe. Modern man call it science or technology and has made it a way of life. This is how they fail to realize that this is just a small part of the entire truth of the universe. They are confined to believe this way and the various dimensions of life are not even thought to explore. This is what is happening with the Fa.

The understanding of modern man is restricted to the knowledge and experiences that occur between his birth and the so called death. Right since his birth, he gathers numerous attachments to matter. Food, water, land, shelter, garments, property, money etc. are all various forms of matter. With his pair of eyes, all he can see is various forms of matter. He sees what his eyes reflect back on his brain. The pair of eyes he owns is pretty much confined to see matter in this dimension of the universe. If one says, there exists a third eye in between ones eye brows, it is quite possible that many of us would straight away reject this concept. Even modern scientists have accepted that there exists an aperture (tianmu) in between ones forehead. But they are just not able to explain it. Their rigid mentality is a hurdle in order to get a better understanding of the human life. This is the reason why even today, everyday person is not able to comprehend how human brain works, whether there really exists something called as a mind, from where thoughts originate - do they have any material existence and so on. Humankind is unwilling to believe anything beyond what they can comprehend in this physical dimension filled with matter. The largest thing they know are planets and the smallest one is a cell, an atom, a proton, an electron or a neutron. They have not been able to build such a microscope which could foresee beyond this physical dimension.

Such rigid thinking is a huge hurdle in self improvement and cultivation. We have raised ourselves to think at a very low level and thus our understanding of life is very tiny and restricted. Everyday people find it so easy to fool others, bully them and commit serious sins. With a very shallow understanding of life, it is very difficult to grow up and become enlightened.

Falun Gong - An Open Mind And A Willing Heart

2011-03-27T21:52:00.004+05:30

March 27, 2011 Pune, India - One of the noblest thought that could come to a mind of a genuine Falun Gong practitioner is to introduce the practice amongst the everyday people he comes across during his course of cultivation. I am definitely sure that this thought in the practitioner’s mind is a result of profound compassion towards the people around him and that it has been cultivated by him through the practice itself.

Most of the everyday people, to whom Falun Gong practice is being introduced, think about what he is really going to gain out of it. Being an everyday person, it is very easy for them to expect for something they are investing, time in this case. Why should I practice Falun Gong? It’s a very obvious question that comes to the mind of a non-practitioner. They relate it to other practices viz. Qigong, Yoga, Art of Living etc. which is primarily done for healing and fitness by everyday people. It sometimes makes me feel too difficult to explain people that Falun Gong is not pursued for physical fitness or curing illnesses. As our Master Li (founder of Falun Gong) illustrates, people with illnesses are not really meant to practice Falun Gong. It is for a simple reason that not everybody can practice it. In fact, if such a person tries to practice it, he won’t be allowed to do it. One of my school friends recently admitted to me that he is not able to practice for a simple reason that it is too difficult to follow. Of course, it is difficult to follow just for a simple reason that it is just too difficult to give up your conventional thinking in the present human society. It is as difficult to practice as thinking good about the person who has been unfair to you. Probably, this is the very reason why a majority people to whom I tell about the practice do not turn up for the Falun Gong exercise sessions.

We have been practicing Falun Gong in some of the public places, parks etc. in our vicinity for several days. We have been distributing information brochures and sometimes, printed copies of Zhuan Falun to people who really show interest. Most of the people enquire about the details of the practice and get intrigued by the characteristics of Zhen-Shan-Ren i.e. Truthfulness, Compassion and Tolerance. Some of them truly manifest that the practice is based on some divine principles of morality but they are just reluctant to change their present life. They express a sense of failure and complain that this practice is not practical. They simply ignore that facts and try to sneak away towards their everyday life. Some people really want to give it a try and turn up for the exercise sessions. However, they are very reluctant to read the teachings and principles on which these exercises are based upon. Falun Gong consists of five slow moving exercises which includes both standing and sitting meditation exercises. The very first exercise is primarily done to open up and unblock the energy channels within our human bodies. Non-practitioners, who are reluctant to open up their minds and understand the facts behind the exercises, will find it very difficult to stay with and continue the practice. For the ones, who genuinely read and manifest the principles of the Fa, would genuinely realize that they have been blessed to be a Falun Gong practitioner.

Falun Gong is not primarily for healing and fitness, but all such benefits are mere by-products of the practice. Falun Gong is a practice based on high level principles and as per our Master Li Hongzhi, such a practice is being openly introduced to the public for the very first time in the history of human civilization. There are crores of practitioners today all over the world who have been trying seamlessly to cultivate the good and righteous thoughts during this Dharma ending period. Numerous Falun Gong practitioners have experienced slow aging just by getting their virtues correct. One of my fellow Falun Gong practitioner who has been practicing for around seven years, do not remember if he has taken any pill or fallen ill during this period. This practice has built up a strong belief in my mind that the treatments done by doctors merely transform or postpone illnesses. The root cause of all the miseries and illnesses is truly not being dealt with by the everyday people. They have been too much busy with their so called personal lives, which generically comprises of inter-personal conflicts, jealousy, egoism, addictions and attachments. I just feel nothing but concerned.

Is One Day Good Enough?

2011-03-08T12:25:00.006+05:30

March 08, 2011 Pune, India - It's the International Women's Day again and it's time to review again the state where we stand. One of the greatest woman in my life, my wife delivered a baby girl on 28th Feb last week. This is our first baby and we now feel blessed for being the proud parents of a baby girl. However, it sometimes makes me feel too down when I come across people with a very low level thoughts when it comes to a girl child. Our society has deteriorated to a very low extent. Merely observing a commemorative day for women has no meaning when they are disrespected over the rest of the year. The society must cultivate itself to celebrate womanhood and learn to treat women with dignity and compassion.

Nonetheless, this time I couldn't think better and more beautiful than composing a poem to express my recent experience on being a father of a baby girl in this male obsessed wicked world.

I wished for a girl
She wanted a boy
A thought across my mind
How impatient was I

I was going to be a father
In a moment or three
How I cared for the little one
And for the mommy to be

Staring at the labour room
There stood me
A thousand prayers I groomed
For a soothing delivery to be

Lengthy moments of wait
Vanished like a gale
As the nurses stood at the gate
Deplorable and pale

Is everything alright sister?
I waited for a sigh
The doctor will answer you mister
It shouldn't be I

Congratulations, said the doctor
As he wore a grim dark smile
Of a girl you're now a father
Said he, in his very own style

Leaving the tender soul in my hand
There walked away the squad
Sneaked a tear of compassion
As I caressed my child

Get us all some sweets sir
I heard a voice behind
Bravo, it's a boy, said the sister
To an another man beside

A Journey Through Nothingness...

2011-02-25T17:35:00.004+05:30

February 25, 2011 Pune, India - Nothing in the world can take away from a man, who has nothing; Nothing in the world can hurt a man who wants nothing. I thought about the plight of a multi millionaire man resting on his death bed. If riches is what could fetch one happiness, he must have lived a life of the happiest man in the world. Today, this is the notion of happiness amongst everyday people - you and me. An everyday person often mistakes excitement for happiness. To be able to fetch your favorite ice-cream, winning a few hundred dollar lottery or meeting your favorite person are various forms of excitement. This feeling brings the mind of an everyday person to it's highest emotional peak. Similarly, there is a lowest emotional peak - fear. Then what happiness really is? Some say it's contentment or satisfaction. Some say that happiness is stability of mind. For me, happiness is nothingness - to be able to stick to nothingness in adverse everyday situations. And that is the path of cultivation - our practice of Falun Dafa.

Our conventional thinking about our materialistic attachments is the biggest hurdle to our cultivation practice of body and mind. As a new practitioner, I wonder how many of us can really stay away from our materialistic thoughts while performing the Falun Gong exercises. Oh! my friend owes a thousand rupees to me, I haven't paid my electricity bill yet; when is the due date? My neighbor has got a new car; I wish to buy a better one than him! I must rush home after the exercises lest I would be late for office. Although you think that you are practicing cultivation, the mind is cultivating evil deep within. But to say, we are still practicing cultivation. And we know that cultivation is good. Isn't this contradicting somewhere? Definitely, this is evil cultivation. With a mind filled with various kinds of attachments, it is very difficult to practice nothingness and cultivation.

In order to be a practitioner in the real sense, one must be very loosely connected to our possessions. Thinking too much about our possessions create an evil called attachment. There are various forms of attachments which will restrict your growth in the course of cultivation practice. Attachments need not always bear a monetary value. Feelings like jealousy, anger, hatred and even love is a form of attachment. Being attached to the human society, one is bound to gather various feelings, relationships and materialistic possessions. In our Falun Dafa, one is permitted to possess riches and materialistic properties. If a practitioner gives away everything, he won't be any different from a monk or a sanyasi. We are permitted to carry and manage our money and possessions since we are still practicing amongst everyday people. The crux is how lightly we take and pursue interpersonal conflicts, preferences of self interest and our attachments.

The path of cultivation is good and difficult at the same time. Good and bad is relative in the dimension of everyday people. What one person thinks good might be bad from the perspective of another everyday person. Similarly, what one thinks bad might be good from the perspective of another everyday person. So far our thoughts and actions comply with Zen-Shan-Ren (Truth, Benevolence and Forbearance) which are the characteristics of the universe, it can be termed as good. Cultivating mind and body is by adopting righteous thoughts and conforming to these characteristics of the universe. The path of cultivation passes through nothingness and for a everyday person, this seems to be the most difficult thing to do. The higher a man progresses through his path of cultivation, the closer he is to the truth of the universe.

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - their topmost pick on 26th February, 2011

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : A Journey Through Nothingness…
Spicy : Neeraj informs us about the journey of nothingness through the path of cultivation, a practice of Falun Dafa. In today’s world we are too much attached to our materialistic things. The practice of Falun Dafa is about being loosely connected to those things. Get closer to the truth of the universe through Neeraj’s post!

Falun Gong - An Open Secret

2011-02-12T14:01:00.004+05:30

February 12, 2011 Pune, India - I attended a centenary lecture of a CEO of one of the greatest multinational organizations in the world this week and must admit that it got me nothing but disappointment. I would have had a drastically opposite perspective about it, if I were not a Falun Gong practitioner. Is making money the real purpose of our existence? Certainly not! I am not really criticizing anyone here. I am not permitted to do that. I mean it. But it really makes me feel sad to manifest the fact that several people in the world with able capabilities talk like mere businessmen. That is just one of the zillion aspects of the modern life.

Where is the modern world heading towards? Just sit back and relax, turn on your television set – your favorite news channel. Watch it. Sons killing their mothers, father raping their daughters, thefts, betrayals, kidnappings, domestic violence, social unrest, intolerance, hatred, extra marital affairs, gambling, addictions, religious conflicts – is there an end to all of these varied forms of Karma. An ignorant person would take it as granted as a part of life and switch the channel. That’s the way it is. I am a no person to have control over it. A few, with a sadistic bent of mind would like to entertain themselves over the grief of their fellow beings. Again, I am not criticizing anyone here since I am not permitted to do that. That’s an undeniable fact of our current lives. We are into the dimension of the everyday people. We have attachments which are hard to resist, we fume up very easily and almost always make things worse in a fit. These are the characteristics of everyday people – you and me.

I have seen people killing each other over religion or the so called religious sentiments, whatsoever. Let me ask a very simple question here. What has the person who killed another man in a rage really understood about religion? What did he protect when he intentionally committed such a grave Karma? This is complete lack of forbearance. Amongst the everyday people, prejudices and reactions without a thought are so common that they are now a part of our so called DNA. In this course, the facts behind the truth of the universe are casually overlooked. And the funniest part of it is that we are almost unaware of this loss - our own loss.

All the illnesses and sufferings are the aftermaths of our bad deeds – the karma. I know most of you will find this statement ridiculous; some might neglect it by terming it plain philosophy. For most, philosophy is not practicality – remember that we all think from a dimension of an everyday person. The universe is not confined to a single dimension. Being an everyday person we have deviated from our true selves, the characteristics of the universe – Truthfulness, Benevolence (Compassion) and Forbearance (Tolerance). Since we are a part of the universe, we must comply with these characteristics of the universe. Every matter in the universe possesses these characteristics. The ‘true self’ within us possesses these qualities. While committing a bad deed, haven’t you felt it deep within your mind, your conscience? The life amongst the everyday people isn’t that easy. Especially, in the world of today when there is ‘karma’ all over it has become way too difficult to stick to your true self. It is like a war within. You need to inculcate the qualities of the universe in order to understand the truth of the universe. This is the path of salvation.

What is Falun Gong? Firstly, Falun Gong or Falun Dafa is not a religion – I am just trying to clear the notion of the everyday people here. It is an ancient cultivation practice which is indeed a science by itself. Falun Gong was introduced to the public in the year 1992 by Mr. Li Hongzhi. Falun Dafa is today practiced by over 10 crore people in more than 114 countries. It comprises of a five set of simple exercises which are easy to learn and suitable for all age groups. As a practitioner, I would say that it is a practice to inculcate the righteous by purification of our everyday bodies and mind. For new practitioners I would strongly recommend to read Zhuan Falun. However, this post of mine is not really to credit myself or advertise any one. It is rather meant to 'hint' my fellow human beings with whom I share a predestined relationship. In order to start with the practice, you need to possess an open mind and a willing heart. That is a mandate. In fact, that is the first step towards enlightenment, believe me. This is absolute truth.

It is never too late. You will realize it only when you start. Please note that Falun Dafa is free and practitioners all over the world are volunteers. Please feel free to contact any of the volunteer contacts at your nearest site locations. I will feel privileged to assist you with any help that might be needed.

LOST Imparts a Strong Message

2010-12-22T17:47:00.008+05:30

December 22, 2010 Pune, India - The chaos and confusion occurring in the mind of the viewers for almost 6 long years has ended recently with the LOST finale coming to a conclusion. Whether or not it is a real conclusion is a debatable topic but it is undoubtedly true that this TV series has set up a bar too high in the field of television entertainment. LOST had hosted 5 seasons until 2009 and this year hosted the final season i.e. LOST - the final season. With the final season coming to an end, I personally feel that the producers have left us wandering for the answers to the questions that engulfed our gray cells from Season 1 through Season 5 last year. The way this series was shaping up, I had great expectations from the producers and I am really happy to say that the final season ended in an interestingly unusual manner. Right from the first frame of the series, when Jack Shepherd opens up his eye in the Island, the story has made us think. Unusual things like the smoke monster, time traveling, electromagnetism and it's effects on human mind, destiny, fate compelled us to think from a scientific perspective. Some great scientists do believe that time traveling can be explained using the theory of relativity which is duly based on the relation between speed, distance, time and energy. Well, that's just one perspective I used to understand the entire story. But, it fails to answer all of the questions that are being raised by the producers of LOST.

After studying the entire story, I then turned up to a different perspective. The makers of LOST have made a brilliant attempt to portray a story which is awesomely entertaining, mind boggling, intelligent and above all imparting a great message to an ordinary viewer. I believe that the makers have intentionally made sure that they do not provide specific answers to all the questions a casual viewer might raise. In order to understand the message, it is very important to change your bent of mind from a viewer with straight line of thinking to a viewer with lucidly free flowing thoughts and a stream of understanding. I know that is difficult to understand but that is all what getting LOST is all about. Well, in this post, let me explain the gist of the story in my very own way and perspective.

Using my perspective, I have built a few theorems that explains and answers most of the important questions raised. However, this won't answer all of the questions that are specific to the character of the story. The makers of the story have made sure that they leave some questions unanswered for the viewers to figure out. One of the reasons why I loved the way LOST concluded is that it didn't end up like a conventional, single threaded story - ones like the happily ever after or the ones with a straight conclusion. I love the way it progressed and the way in which it ended. Although the series ended with the 6th season, it has imparted a very strong message and that is to - 'Let Go' and 'Move On'.

Often in our lives, we come across situations wherein we feel so bad about our existing life situation. We just get carried away by these situations so much so that we build confines amongst ourselves and get trapped in it.

The story of LOST starts with the Oceanic flight 815 getting crashed on an island. Now, whether or not the passengers actually died in the plane crash is left to the viewers discretion. What's more important here is to understand that most of the people on the plane which includes the main characters of the story viz. Jack, Hugo, Kate, James or Sawyer, Sayid and so on were very much trapped within the confines of their personal worldly problems. That is the reason why they were chosen up for the Island in the first place. Who really chose them? Was it Jacob or the makers of the story is again left to the viewer's discretion.

The Island is actually an epitome of the source of life within every human being. To say we are different entities, different bodies, getting born in different forms and time period. But, the source of life is one thing that binds us all. And that is what we call the Island. The source of life has two distinct perspectives, the good and the evil. Nevertheless, there is a superpower that safeguards this source or the heart of the Island. Jacob - the character who enacts as the protector of the Island plays this role.

The Island is timeless. It has the power to heal every problem associated with life. When the flight 815 crashed on the Island, the passengers were almost in the transition process from life to death. And then there is re-birth. The Island has the potential to give it all. The entire story that took place is between this transition phase. When one says that he had a near death experience, he actually reaches the Island, the source of life. When the Oceanic 6 (the six survivors of the flight 815 air-crash) escaped from the Island, they resumed their mundane normal lives which were same as their lives before the accident. There wasn't really any change in their situations. That is the reason why they were needed back on the Island. It is not actually, Benjamin Linus or Charles Widmore summoning them or provoking them to come back; it is the call of the destiny. They actually figure out a means to come back to the Island when they meet Dan Faraday's mother - another near death experience.

The exact moments when all the main characters of the story died is not distinctly specified but it is true that they died at different points in time. But it is more important for us to realize that it was on the Island that all of these characters came out of their confines of worldly issues. For instance, Jack who had issues with his father Christian only realized the situation of a father when he actually became a father of a fictional son David. Jin changed his perspective towards his wife Sun. However, some like Michael committed grave sins which eventually restricted them from moving out of their own confines - they remained trapped on the Island. The final season of the story is all about imparting good messages. But that is possible only when we change our perspectives towards difficult life situations. It is utmost important that it is love that binds us all as humans in the long run. Eventually, the characters of the story build up relationships amongst themselves in order to lead a better life ahead. Life and death is a continuous journey and there doesn't really exist anything like 'Now' in this course. It is important for us all to realize that we have come up from the same source - the Island.

Good and evil are relative and they can change forms. Jacob, the protector of the Island and the Man in Black were identical twins. However, the Man in Black came across the fact that their actual mother was killed by the lady who enacted their fake mother. Jacob was reluctant to accept this fact. The truth was hidden and this gave rise to an evil situation wherein Jacob killed his own brother. This is when the evil black smoke (monster) came out of the source and started corrupting the Island inhabitants. It's only when we devote a reasonable time to understand the truth, and the people around us we can actually stop the growth of the evil. This was probably, the mistake which Jacob referred to during his brief conversations.

The story, in a nutshell, tells us to 'move on' with every difficult situation in life and 'let go' certain things rather than constraining ourselves or quibbling over the problems. Everything in life exists for a purpose. It only ends once, everything that happens before that is just progress.

This is just my personal interpretation of the story, if you think otherwise, move on...

Divorce - a Short Story

2010-12-11T08:55:00.002+05:30

December 11, 2010 Pune, India - "Marriages are made in heaven", I remembered her answer which sounded on a serious note to my blithe ignorant question seeking a reason why she had decided to marry me! Her answer had connected our hearts in less than a moment and we were no strangers anymore. I knew that she was going to be a good wife.

That was the beginning of a budding relationship.

But that was years back. Just as the events of the present day case proceedings in the court of law, her reply had moved me from the bottom of my heart. Whosoever made marriages; but I was pretty certain that divorces were man made, I thought as the jury signed the verdict. We were quite sure that this, one last journey was going to put an end to the chaos happening in our lives over the past three years. Right since we had started our journey from the district court, I was looking at her face intermittently. It was drizzling steadily on the dusky city street and she just kept on staring outside the window of the car. I was clueless about what mingled in her head, but something ensured my weary mind that the final verdict of granting us a divorce must have relieved her - in fact us both.

I noticed that she was continually ignoring my presence in the car, rather trying to divagate from the collective memories we had created over the past few years. Her reticence inspired me to not utter a word. It was a hard fact that we had now officially given up the rights over each other. This was something that was hard for me to sustain. I was constantly making futile attempts to see some similar emotions on her face that imitated my mind. But more than anything else, it was her silence that was killing me to death at the moment. How can she be so stubborn? I kept on thinking...

"So, will you marry some other man?", I asked her as I burst away the silence which was almost deafening me.

I knew that was such a stupid question but it was starting a conversation that was gaining my priority at the moment. She looked back at me in despair. I slowed down the car over the left as I let overtake a speedy car over my right. This is something I always hated to do.

I noticed that she had decided not to answer my question. I realized that it was none of my business anymore and took a different turn away from home.

"Where are you taking the car?", she asked me desperately. Ultimately, I felt happy to have been successful in stealing away some words from her mouth.

I kept on driving for a few minutes and stopped at a water pool. It was a lush green park with a huge rocky mountain in the backyard which was beautifully dressed by the weeds of the September rains. The place wasn't unfamiliar to either of us. In fact, it was this place where our journey had begun and our relationship had blossomed. We knew that recollecting the sheer number of evenings we had spent together, in this park, weaving our futures was never so easy.

I asked her to get down and parked the vehicle by the road.

"I would like you to end it here", I said as I stood in front of her, meekly.

She looked straight into my eyes. I observed that my words had hit her hard within. Apparently, a couple of tear drops secretly left her black beautiful eyes - the ones which were once only mine.

"Do you think, signing a couple of documents will erase it all?", she asked in a low tone.

I shrugged.

"I just can't imagine...", I murmured and was unable to speak any further.

Moments passed away like ages as we stood there like two lost strangers waiting for nothing. The beautiful evening was gradually gulped away by the darkness of the fast approaching night.

"Beep...beep..$#.beep...$...beep..#" A sudden ring from my cell phone brought me back to my senses.

Was that a dream? I tried hard to think in my current state of trance. I opened my eyes and had a glimpse of her beautiful face, passionately staring at me. She was looking at me in amazement and I ensured myself of my return from a different world.

"What are you talking about?", she asked in a firm voice.

"Woah! Was I? Just a bad dream Priya", I said as I looked back at her. She was looking beautiful than ever before.

I was wondering about what I might have muttered in my sleep.

"Did you hear me speak?", I asked her in my attempt to evade any embarrassment.

"Not really", she said as she smiled.

I felt relieved as she brought me closer and touched my face gently. She had an unusual sparkle in her eyes. Momentarily, the smile on her lips had faded away.

"Did you dream about a divorce because of the paltry quarrel we had last night?", she asked gravely.

I looked at her, spellbound.

I had no feeling to express; no other gesture to show than giving her a big and long hug.

Dedicated to my dear wife Priya on our second anniversary - for her profound love, immense care and also the stupid disputes that has made my life so interesting. I love you! You're the best wife a man can get.

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - the week of 16 November, 2010

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : Divorce – a Short Story
Tangy : Neeraj has just moved out of court with his ex-wife after the divorce verdict was declared. He wants her to break his silence and say something the last time and his phone rings! Read ahead to find out what he says finally…

GiveIndia.org Made Me Feel Like a Real Winner!

2010-11-02T13:36:00.004+05:30

November 02, 2010 Pune, India - GiveIndia.org recently felicitated one of my posts on Giving and awarded a small amount to me as a token of their appreciation. Although, this money may sound as a very small amount, I only realized it's potential when I donated it in order to part sponsor education for a disadvantaged and poor child for a year. I must admit that this is the best way in which I have ever spent a thousand bucks, which otherwise would have been transformed into a useless shopping voucher. I had almost forgot of this small donation when today, a feedback document on this donation from GiveIndia touched my email in-box and subsequently, my heart. Today, I was into tears when I read the feedback of this transaction - the way it was going to improvise a life of a twelve year old girl. I feel like sharing this feeling with all my dear readers which I am unable to resist at the moment.

***

Feedback on the utilization of your donation, as received from The Akanksha Foundation

Transaction number : TRN-0001315301/TD-0001351063
Transaction date : 19-Aug-2010
Name of the donor : Neeraj Shinde
Purpose of donation : Part sponsor education for a disadvantaged & poor child for a year
Units : 1
Amount : INR 1000

Beneficiary Details
Brief Description

The Akanksha Foundation is an NGO working in the field of non-formal education for slum children in Mumbai and Pune. Ms Shaheen Mistri set up the organization 20 years ago to cater to the needs of many children in Mumbai who live in very difficult conditions and do not get the opportunity of education. Our vision is that one day, all children will be equipped with the education, skills and character that need to lead empowered lives.

The organization has expanded from 15 children in one centre to over 3500 children at present in 63 centers in Mumbai and Pune. A group of over 500 volunteers support the program together with 120 teachers and over 50 staff. A commitment is made to support the children through their school going years and to help them plan what skills they can use and how they can earn a steady livelihood as a step towards improving their standards of living.

Children come to a center.

An Akanksha Centre,
• runs each day for a group of 60 children for two and half hours five days a week.
• Is located in existing premises such as schools, colleges, public buildings, or offices which lend their space for classes free of charge (or at a nominal fee)
• Is staffed by a Head Teacher and an Assistant Teacher who plan the learning activities and teach the children each day and who collect the children from the slum area and brings them to the centre.
• Has a syllabus that is adjustable to the varying learning levels of the children
• Is supervised by Manager, Education and one of two Educational Coordinators who visit each of the centers regularly to help the teachers ensure that quality learning is taking place at the centre
• Is supported by social worker who liaise with the slum community where the children live, in order to tackle issues such as attendance in school, health and nutrition
• Has volunteers who supplement the services of the two teachers and offer instruction in their own areas of expertise
• Is assessed monthly through model centre meetings

Name: Priyanka Hiralal Shrivastav
DOB: 12th Jan, 1997(?)( 12 years)
Name of Formal School: Love Grove Road Pumping Station Upper Primary Marathi School
Std: 6th (Marathi medium)
Residential Address: Dr. Annie Besant Road, Mariamma Nagar, Worli, Mumbai - 18
Father’s Name: Hiralal Shivram Shrivastav
Occupation: Security Guard
Mother’s Name: Vidya Hiralal Shrivastav
Occupation: Housemaid
No. of siblings: 3(1 sister and 2 brothers)-
Native Place: Uttar Pradesh
Religion : Hindu
No. of years at Maharashtra: 8 years

Priyanka is a very quite child and is very attentive and sincere. She is very hard working too and tries and not gives up. Even during empowerment sessions even if she is not participating you know that she is paying attention and grasping concepts. She needs a strong push all the time to perform well, in spite of a lot of influence from her peers she has still been able to hold on to her focus and interest in studies.

***

Thank you www.GiveIndia.org - you made me feel like a real "Winner".

Awaiting Justice... Seeking Safety in City Buses

2010-10-09T13:43:00.007+05:30

October 09, 2010 Navi Mumbai, India - It has been four long years that I have been waiting for justice from the N.M.M.T. officials with regards to the very unfortunate rowdy bus conductor episode in which I was a victim of one of the errant employee, a bus conductor of Navi Mumbai Municipal Transport. After four long years, the NMMT authorities have woke up and have recently sent me two communication letters at very short notices asking for my physical presence at their Turbhe, Navi Mumbai office. I am miserably dissatisfied with the casual proceedings in this case by the public organization. The entire episode really haunts me with a grave question as of how secure we as the city residents are while we move out of our homes into city buses. Below is the letter I posted to NMMT inquiry officer today who is looking into this case:

(Delivered By India Post - Speed Post EM249202692IN on 9th Oct, 2010)

To,

The Enquiry Officer,

Enquiry Department,

Navi Mumbai Municipal Transport (N.M.M.T.),

Turbhe Depot, 2nd Floor,

Turbhe - Navi Mumbai - 400 703

Dear Sir,

Subject: Complaint lodged by me on July 28th, 2006 against rowdy bus conductor Shree Chintamani Kadam, Badge no. 196149

In the above context, I have received your two letters dated 7th Sep, 2010 calling me to appear for enquiry on 17th Sep, 2010 and another dated 4th Oct, 2010 advising me to appear as a witness on 15th Oct, 2010 in connection with the charge sheet filed against the errant bus conductor Shri. Kadam.

At the outset, I have to submit in this connection that I may please be exempted from giving personal appearance at your office for the reason that from the last over two years; I have been settled in Pune city and cannot afford to give any personal appearance. However, at the same time I hereby make it very clear that my presence or absence in the enquiry process does not in any way make my submissions in the complaint weak. As such, you are requested to complete the enquiry process in my absence and on the basis of the factual points made in my complaint without any further delay. Regarding the inquiry process, first of all I am totally dissatisfied with your delaying tactics in concluding the inquiry process which otherwise should have been completed latest by the year end of 2006. It is quite unreasonable, unjust and biased approach of N.M.M.T. to have taken two and a half years to appoint you as an enquiry officer in this case and now you are taking your own time to finish the process. Also, your insisting on my personal appearance would amount to negating justice by applying delaying tactics as you'll agree that "Justice delayed is justice denied". Besides, the delay being caused in this process gives rise to the suspicion that the inquiry process is being made as a farce and you are predetermined in unduly protecting your own employee/worker from handing out penalty for his misdeeds.

It is, therefore, to be noted that N.M.M.T. being a public institution has to set its own house in order and the commuters are saved from the rude and inconsiderate behavior of its workers. I, therefore, once again request your honor to kindly take into account all my submissions made in my complaint letter as also the points made herein before and conclude the enquiry process without any further delay in the interest of justice and oblige.

Before I conclude, I submit that the worker Shree Kadam was neither familiar to me earlier nor I am keeping any personal/individual grudge against him. Also, there is no question of my having any personal enmity with him. As such, I appeal before your good self that the case proceedings or the enquiry process is concluded in a purely objective manner and without any aspect of biased approach which will go a long way in improving N.M.M.T.'s image in the public eye.

I do hope, my submissions meet the ends of justice for which I shall remain thankful to you sir.

I am aware to take legal recourse in the matter if the circumstances so demand.

Thanking you,

Yours faithfully,

Neeraj Shinde

(Complainant)

Born Dalit!

2010-04-14T15:16:00.008+05:30

April 14, 2010 Pune, India - I always thought that there were two kinds of Dalits – the first ones who thanked the noble soul of Dr. B. R. Ambedkar on 14th day of April for bestowing them a holiday filled with processions, liquor and street dances. Whereas, the second category has always been pondering at their pitiful social statuses and wondering what under the sun made this man so famous and great. Even after more than sixty years of Independence, the plight of a common Dalit living in the slums of the nation seems to be the same.

Caste-ism has always been deeply rooted into the veins of the Indian culture which is something that I hate to be proud of. In a society where last names are only meant to identify the sect, sub-castes and creed of a person, how can we really expect a change to happen in terms of social and economical upliftment of the poor? Slums have always been looked upon as the vote banks by the modern political leaders. It is sad but true that it is easy to lure them by enacting a pretentious savior or throwing away unforeseen promises. It hurts to see a significant number of followers to the leaders and political parties that are trying to categorize the citizens based on the language they speak. Their malicious and undemocratic division of the nation will only ruin the ethics and the cultural heritage of our country. In this course, the simple yet powerful teachings of Bharatratna Dr. Ambedkar often go unheard.

He was a born ‘dalit’ – that is how he was tagged when he made his entrance to this wicked world. Things were never as they look like today. It was hard to breathe a life of an untouchable – to affix a broom behind your waist and wipe off your footprints on the village streets, to not have the right to fill or drink water from the common well and to feel ashamed of oneself when a non-Dalit abused you after your accidental touch. The rights to education and to choose a profession of your choice were the options that a Dalit of that time wouldn’t dare to dream of. Ambedkar never wanted to be a leader in the true sense but yes he was a struggler. During his lifetime, he was humiliated every single day and I reckon, that must be his source of inspiration to fight against the society and get educated to such a great level. He was a thinker who strongly believed that man is the creator of his own destiny. All his life he tried hard to inculcate this ideology into the minds of the downtrodden sections of the society. Society is a no person and neither is the government. Every person has to fight his own battle to survive and excel. He was a man with exceptional abilities, immense confidence and a strong willpower. But to the deprived society, he was a messenger in the true sense.

A majority of the young non-Dalit population of modern India thinks that Dr. Ambedkar was all about creating unjust reservations in the constitution of India and that he is up to a certain extent, responsible for stretching the unjust practice of Caste-ism. I must recite that such thoughts are a result of shallow thinking and a narrow outlook towards our much broader society. A society with equal opportunities is never built in a day. When one feels that he lost his hard earned seat of an Engineering or Medical college to a less deserved Dalit candidate, he is just not covering the entire picture. It is just that he never owned a stake in the seat secured by the Dalit candidate. Colleges are mere representatives of our society. And when they are representatives, they represent the population. It is a hard fact that several Dalits are not even aware of something called as reservation. Many a times, reserved seats are helplessly allotted to a general candidate due to lack of eligible candidate from the reserved category. This shows nothing but the grim level of awareness among the masses.

In the world of today, to regard that every Dalit is poor would not be wise. There are handfuls that have progressed to a considerable level. But the progress is just not enough with regards to the huge Dalit population. Given that zillions of them are battling for their daily bread and butter, it is very hard to imagine them actually coming up and availing the benefits of reservation. Things were never easy and would never be; struggling and working towards self appraisal is the only way out. Ambedkar had a very clear motive towards generating reservations. These are no tools but mere means for the social upliftment of the long deprived Dalit population.

Today, the nation is celebrating 119th birth anniversary of one of the greatest gems of our country, Dr. Bhimrao Ambedkar. No matter, his teachings will keep on inspiring many generations to come. I feel sad to see huge hoardings of Dr. Ambedkar conjoined with the local political leaders all around the city streets. In his pretext, they will continue to dance with joy and bliss. Ambedkar Jayanti celebrations will gain a true meaning only if a common Dalit really understands what this great soul really had to say.

Marvellous Mahabaleshwar

2010-04-08T16:58:00.010+05:30

April 08, 2010 Pune, India - The April heat has started soaring to a new peak - all credits to the global warming and our ever-negligent attitude towards the issues pertaining to the climate change. The people of Mumbai have already started to soak themselves into the streams of their own sweat and the people of Pune are steadily blaming the climate Gods for being so harsh on them. Given such ruthless climatic conditions here in summer, there is nothing else than Mahabaleshwar that I could think of. Our trip in April, last year to this glorious and world-renowned hill station is still vividly green in my mind.

It was our first visit to Mahabaleshwar. It was a long weekend and we had a perfect plan for an early morning travel from Pune to the hill station. Mahabaleshwar is merely 120 kms. from Pune and approximately 290 kms. from Mumbai. Commutation is not a major problem if you are a resident of either of these two cities. Nevertheless, Mahabaleshwar is strongly connected by road to various parts of Maharashtra. The MSRTC, state transport buses ply between Pune and Mahabaleshwar almost as frequent as forty five minutes. The private luxury and volvo buses are always ready to serve you in case you happen to miss any of your scheduled vehicle. We chose to take the state transport bus from Pune.

Our journey began at 8:00 AM from the Shivajinagar bus station, Pune. A couple of hours later, we reached a place called Vaai. It is one of the most famous rural destinations of Maharashtra. The fresh smell of the recently cut crops was steadily oozing through the window and enchanting my mind. I had a look all around the road that we were continuously leaving behind. The serenity of the green farms on either side of the road was dragging me close to the nature's bust. The elevations of the roads was making me feel that we were actually climbing a mountain. We continued to struggle towards gravity leaving behind the breath-taking views of the valleys on our right. Just then, I was completely amazed to see a couple of parachute gliders flying just beside our bus.

Our journey continued to progress as our bus halted at Paachgani. Paachgani is well-known for a varied reasons - boarding schools, it's scenic beauty, para-gliding clubs etc. But it is the ever cool climate of this place that drags most of the tourists to Paachgani. Mahabaleshwar is roughly 20-25 kms. from Paachgani. We decided to spend some time here during our return from Mahabaleshwar.

After a three hour drive, we reached Mahabaleshwar. Being a place of tourist attraction, it wasn't so hard to find a hotel. Mahabaleshwar has accommodation options to suit every budget. However, tariffs and rentals tend to rise during peak seasons and long weekends. After lunch, we decided to reserve a tourist vehicle for the local sight seeing. It is not very difficult to locate the cab reservation counters for tourists. Most of the cabs follow the fixed-price package policy and would give you a clear demonstration of the places that would be covered under a specific package. I kinda like such practices wherein the chances of the tourist getting cheated are ruled out. We hired a cab and here we started our trip. The hill station has several breath-taking views each of them are known as a 'point'. Every point has it's own significance and scenic beauty. Since, it was summer time, the greenery had started to fade away but the view remained unaltered. The needle-hole point was something that intrigued me. The spot had acquired it's name due to a small cavity between two huge rocky mountains. Similarly, the Arthur point has it's very own significance and history. It is being said that King Arthur used to sit on this rock and stared at the river bed for hours in the memories of his beloved who had died at that location.

The Venna Lake is one of the most beautiful lakes I have ever seen in my life. If you decide to spend a relaxed afternoon time at this lake, you may like to opt for a boat ride for yourself and your loved ones. Just beside the lake, you may like to try out some adventures with a horse ride. We decided to spend our evening at the Sunset point which was one of the best sunset spots I have ever been in my life. At times, the crowd that had gathered to watch the sunset in large numbers turned me down, but I promise that the majestic view of the setting sun from this place will definitely force you to forget the world around you.

Places gaining their names from the famous temples is a very striking feature of most of the places all over India. On similar tracks, this place has adopted the name Mahabaleshwar from the old Ateebaleshwar or Mahabaleshwar temple. In the local language Marathi, the word 'Mahabaleshwar' literally means - the God with immense strength. Interestingly, the glorious history of this beautiful place can be tracked as back as year 1200.

On the second day of our stay at Mahabaleshwar, we decided to do some shopping. Sometimes I spontaneously think of Mahabaleshwar whenever I see strawberries. In other words, Mahabaleshwar is the land of strawberries. On very single step ahead in the market, you'd come across a strawberry seller flaunting bunches of freshest strawberry. As a matter of fact, these sellers are most of the times, actual strawberry farmers. I had never had such juicy and sweet strawberries ever in my life. Neither had I seen such a huge strawberry market ever before in my life. I nearly gulped 50-60 strawberries in a single day and I believe that it is still not my best.

Pleasant climatic condition has boosted fruit production in this area. The production of strawberries, raspberries and gooseberries has given rise to several fruit crush and pulp manufacturing industries. The Bagicha restaurant just on the outskirts of the main market is worth trying. You may also opt to buy a few bottles of fresh squash and crush here. Besides the restaurant also treats you a variety of falooda and other fruit drinks. I am sure that you would not forget to clean the glass off the last drop.

Hill stations such as Mahabaleshwar have always been great hangouts and a short-lived rescue from the soaring heat in our cities. It is a hard fact that every place on earth is under the threat of Global warming. Places like Mahabaleshwar are definitely refreshing and soothing but to safeguard their sanctity and serenity is what I feel is the need of the day.

Fool...

2010-04-02T23:56:00.009+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 9; the ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

April 03, 2010 Pune, India - April 1st might be a fool’s day, but it wasn’t really this case with this twenty-three year old. It was the most crucial day of her life. Although it wasn’t the first interview of her life, there was something that kept her feeling nervous. She had spent an almost sleepless night lost in her thoughts about a dream job she had always been longing for. The tiring early-morning bus travel to the new city failed to curb her enthusiasm and anxiety.

She took a small mirror out of her purse and had a good look at her sparkling face. She smiled as she looked at her disturbed hairstyle. I need a reset, she thought as she gently picked out a comb to brush her hair. Minutes later it was time to get down and cease the long journey.

She looked around the street as she got down from the bus. It was a new place and new aspirations were filled in her mind. She interrogated a few pedestrians on her way. The venue was not afar, she learnt from one of them.

“Excuse me, How do I reach Hinjewadi from here?” she asked as she stopped at a stationary car.

“Where do you wanna go?” the man on the driver’s seat questioned as he spat the gutkha he had been holding in his mouth.

“Telemax Solutions!”, she said.

“Oh Madam, that is too far from here... Why don’t you come along? I can drop you – it’s just on the way to the place where we are heading… ”, the man said as he wiped his mouth with his left hand.

“But someone just told me it is just 15 minutes from here”, she said as she raised her concern.

“Well, someone must have fooled you Mam’; you know it is the fool’s day today! Given the traffic conditions within the city, it cannot be less than forty-five minutes for sure”, the man explained as he burst out in laughter.

“Oh is it? I cannot afford to reach there after an hour. I have an important interview to attend”, she said as she realized her stupidity and decided to join them.

She noticed that the rear seat of the car was occupied by another man. It was an air-conditioned car maintained in a good condition, she realized as she joined them. She occupied an empty seat in the rear.

She left a sigh of relief as she made herself comfortable on the cushion of the seat.

It was 10:00 AM when she had a peek at her wrist watch. Nervousness was gradually getting transformed into confidence when she decided to read the book that she had in her bag. Jeffery Archer was her favorite author and she almost always got lost in the story when she resumed the paragraphs of the current novel she was reading.

A sudden bump on the road distracted her from the book. She read the hands of her wrist watch again that told her it was 11:10 AM. She seemed worried as she looked outside the window.

“What place is this?”, she asked the cab driver desperately?

“It’s Deccan Madam - we are here to pick up one of our buddies. Please don’t mind”, he said as he looked back and rolled his eyes at her chest and then down towards her knees.

“Stop the car”, she screamed.

“Please don’t shout sweetie. We’ll have your interview in the car. So stop bothering and shut the fuck up!”, the man beside her seat yelled as he took off a small knife.

All her cries almost faded away within the loud stereos and her calls for help were never visible outside the amber window glass. She wept helplessly as she saw herself driven over a deserted road.

She wished to have herself dead every single moment of the awful hours when each one of them used her to quench their lust.

She recollected the face of her anxious husband who was too eager to call her to hear the result of her interview. She wished if she could ever explain him the foolery she had committed. She wished if she could ever find the words to explain how she felt when she was ruthlessly thrown away out of the car.

She was shattered, torn and broke. How hard she felt if she had never lived that day – if she had never been so fool!

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Giving Is An Art...

2010-03-17T17:08:00.016+05:30

March 17, 2010 Pune, India - I felt a tender pat on my back as I presented the exact change to the man on the railway booking counter. It was kinda a sigh of relief after wasting more than a fifteen minutes in the queue and I was in a no mood to respond to a stranger's taps from behind. Instead, I had a look at my watch and then at the man at the ticket counter. I waited anxiously for a ticket and continued staring at him who was still busy counting my change. Just then I felt those annoying taps back, this time they grew more intense than the previous one. In a frustrated mood, I looked back. It was a small boy about a decade old anxiously waiting for a rupee from me.

I nodded and moved on as I grabbed the ticket from the man.

This must be a bad day for me, I thought as I realized that I had just missed the train. The fact that the next train is expected after an hour made things even worse. I must be the unluckiest man in the world, I thought as I cursed myself for being late.

The railway platform was sparingly crowded and it wasn't too difficult to grab an empty seat. I decided to grab a newspaper from the nearest book stand - what an awesome way to kill time, I thought.

I was not more than a half way reading through the cover story of the newspaper when I noticed someone standing right in front of me. I lowered the newspaper giving myself a room to see the person standing in front of me.

"You again?", I asked as I noticed the boy again begging in front of me.

This time I was able to have a clear look at him. A moderately muddy shirt and a half sized trouser. Black hair that had turned muddy brown due to lack of proper care. I decided not to guess the last time he would have had his bath cos' I knew that my every attempt would have failed to get it right.

I waited for an answer but all I got were stares.

"What do you want?", I asked.

"A rupee!", the boy said.

"I can't give you a rupee my friend; I can feed you some snacks if you are hungry. Are you?", I interrogated.

The boy seemed uninterested in my offer and immediately left as he realized that he was wasting his precious earning time before a weirdo.

Smart professional, I murmured as I saw him sneaking away.

I began searching the last sentence that I had read in the newspaper article. I like reading articles about President Obama. I had just resumed reading when I saw another boy standing in front of me. He seemed almost half the age of the previous one.

"Now what do you want Barack?", I asked the little boy as he looked into my eyes with immense hope.

"I want a wada-paav, the one which you were about to give to him!", he said.

"Oh! Did he send you?", I asked in dismay.

"No! I heard you", he said honestly.

Sometimes it is not very difficult to spot the truth; especially when words come out straight from the heart, they possess a spark. Just as the eyes of the little boy had. I knew he was too hungry. I folded the newspaper and kept it in my bag.

We walked a small distance together until we reached the nearest snack corner.

"A tea for me and a wada-paav for the little one", I ordered.

I instructed the little boy to have a seat. I noticed him as he kept on moving his legs to and fro on the chair.

"Where are your parents?", I asked him anxiously.

He nodded.

I learnt, he must be an orphan. That's just too much to handle for such a tender age, I thought. If I thought it was a bad day for me today and that I am the unluckiest man in the world, the little one must be way beyond it all.

I came back to my seat but was unable to concentrate on the article. I decided not to read. I looked around and noticed the little boy sitting just besides me.

"Well Barack, what are you doing back here?", I asked.

"I like you", he said.

"Is that why you are here again?", I asked as I touched his little cheek.

He smiled as he asked me to follow him. There was a small garden beside the railway platform developed and maintained by Indian Railways. He took me to a toy seller who was sitting in the garden.

It wasn't so hard to study the little chap's intentions behind bringing me there. I bought him one.

I was moved.

I was able to feel the happiness spread all around his face. It wasn't about money rather a lending of a caring hand, to someone who really needed one. It's all about those little gestures that touch and impact lives. Imagine if a few minutes of such caring gestures can turn a bad day into one of the best days of one's life, how positively far it would help building up a society free of poverty and illiteracy?

Shedding a rupee to a beggar is not Giving. It is all about caring and nurturing your donations in the right directions.

There are numerous such little boys who are less fortunate in their lives. To be able to touch even one of these will make all the difference. Imagine, had it been otherwise...

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - their best pick on 23rd March, 2010

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : Giving Is An Art
Tangy : We have been always taught the power of Giving. ‘Giving is an art’, says Neeraj and has this post on what he feels about it. A must read post.

This post is a winner at the Indian blogger's contest held by GiveIndia.org in the month of March 2010. GiveIndia’s mission is to promote an efficient and effective giving culture that provides greater opportunities to the poor in India.

Country Roads... Take Me Home...

2010-03-08T19:35:00.008+05:30

Country Roads, take me home...
To the place I belong...
South Maharashtra, Mountain Momma
Take me home, country roads :-)

March 08, 2010 Pune, India - Well, I know that really sucked but my intentions weren't really to offend any of the Denver fans reading my blog here. It is just that I just can't resist singing this song in my very own style. This weekend was an absolute bliss with a long and dormant nostalgia coming back to life.

The clear blue sky wide open, the dry winds howling through my ears, that almost were dehydrating me and the bright sun staring straight down at the black soil. What a fabulous way to spend a Saturday afternoon, I ponder as I sit back on my chair and start writing this blog post. I had been at the country side or to be more specific the place of my ancestral heirloom after over a decade and a half. Things are never so easy in small villages - such as those from the Southern part of Maharashtra. In fact, the farthest and the most remote parts of the Indian country-side will observe more or less similar kind of conditions. Villages adjoining and comprising the District Solapur, Maharashtra is a no exception to any of these.

Being a geeky office guy spending more than a fifty hours a week sitting before a computer in an air-conditioned room, it was hard to imagine the daily activities performed by Shivaji Appa, who has been toiling hard under the sun converting soil into fruits for his entire life. A farmer - just to make it very easy to understand. He had just finished his lunch when I went to see him. He was so happy to see me and so was I. Hospitality and guest felicitation is usually no concern when it comes to people who live in small houses. But, I was more than a guest for him given that he had always seen me as a small kid visiting his farms during my summer holidays.

I was amazed to see the lemon gardens all around me. The air soaked with the freshest smell of ripe lemons rushing into my nostrils was enchanting me. Being a school going lad, I remember sleeping beneath the shady lemon trees that were pitch dark inside despite being a bright sunny noon. Believe me, nothing can beat the comfort of a quick nap beneath a shady tree on a sunny afternoon. It took a while for me to explain Shivaji Appa that I was much keen to see the farm and plantations he had developed than to see myself enjoying the felicitations of being a guest.

The very next moment I sneaked inside the lemon garden. Appa followed me and he seemed very excited to show me his work. He had developed a small fruit garden over the periphery of the farm. I was just out of the lemon garden, when I saw him gently plucking a ripe guava - all for me! That is so sweet of you Appa, I said as I expressed my gratitude towards his small gesture. You must taste this fruit before you say something about sweetness Neeraj, he said trying to insist. There were numerous fruit plantations and I just kept on following Appa - Mango, Custard Apple (Ram/Sita Fal), Chicku, Pomegranate, Tomatoes, Jowar, Groundnut, Chillis, Corn, Drum sticks and variety of different grains. He kept on describing the way in which he had brought up all the plants around. He seemed to have known the history of every little crop and every tiny shrub on the farm. His dedication and hard work was intriguing.

Later that day, we spoke on a variety of subjects, things that mattered to him, issues that haunted him and the unpredictable Rain Gods that conferred a short lived happiness for this year. His efforts were awesome but were almost always too much underpaid.

I asked him the price he gets per unit for his splendid efforts as I looked at the tender baby corn in the field. Fifty paise or if I am luckier, I get a rupee, he said. He kept staring into my eyes when I made him realize that I buy it for fifteen rupees from the vendor beneath my apartment in Pune. His old wrinkled eyes expressed nothing but contentment.

It was a matter of great honor for me to have the privilege of a bullock cart ride with Appa. I watched him passionately as he tied his two bullocks - Khillarya and Ladakya. There we began our bumpy ride through the fields and then ultimately onto the road. The sturdy bullocks were too obedient and Appa made it a point to take utmost care of them - to feed them and make them drink water thrice a day.

People from the cities keep on running behind tempting comforts. They aim for higher levels of luxuries and sky reaching riches. But the real contentment of life lies beneath the soil that was our source and is the ultimate destiny, I thought as I kept hearing the jingles of the bell tied around Ladakya's neck.

Republic Day - What Does It Mean?

2010-01-26T14:06:00.003+05:30

January 26, 2010 Pune, India - A chorus of young kids singing our national anthem woke me up this morning. It didn't take much time out of my early moments of the day for me to realize that it was the republic day flag hoisting being performed out a few yards from my bedroom window. The 26th of January and 15th of August are the two days that are pretty close to me. They remind me of my novice days as one of the school going lads standing in a queue on the school playground in neat, pressed white uniforms waiting for the chocolates to be distributed. India is our country and all Indians are our brothers and sisters were what we pledged immediately after our school prayer. We said it and we did it all for the sake of a mandate. Today, after a long unexpected midnight support call from the client, all that matters is that it is a holiday. The Republic day has always gifted us - with sweets to the kids and a lazy holiday for working professionals, hasn't it? Sad and true.

More than six decades after independence, seems to be an ample time in the life of young India. Lives have changed and continue to change. Our schedules are busier in the attempts to sustain our own self. This is the time when things are getting real difficult and the situation is getting only worse with the passage of time. The lessons of fraternity and brotherhood have been long forgotten into the pages of the history of the freedom struggle. In a time when it is difficult to protect our own families from getting scattered, how easy is it to think about the country?

Patriotism has gained a new meaning and a newer way of expression. It is exhibited by swaying tricolor flags on the vehicles and motor bikes on the republic and independence days, which is over a day getting replaced by the flags of political parties. It is all about hoisting, saluting and wearing the paper-made tricolor on the national days and later disposing it off recklessly among the other bits of paper. It is about bearing the inconvenience of terrorist attacks on our cities, feeling and seeing the blood of our neighbors spilled around and hoping that things will be fine the next day. It is about watching the political scandals over the news channels and taking it for granted as politics. It is about finding it worthless to cast our votes on the Election Day. It is about considering it as a part of process to bribe the government official in order to get a timely delivery of your marriage certificate. It is about finding it a nuisance to stand up for the national anthem after buying an expensive multiplex movie ticket for the flick you were long trying to catch up with. It is about singing the national song without really understanding the meaning of it.

Today we are celebrating the 61st Republic Day of India, the day when India wrote and implemented its constitution. It is time we ask a small question to ourselves as to what significance it really has had within our lives. In this age where the creamy layered are more passionate about foreign citizenships, whereas the poor is endlessly battling and blaming the circumstances, is it fine to say that we are truly republic?

A Writer's Room in an Idiot's Abode

2010-01-12T18:38:00.003+05:30

January 12, 2010 Pune, India - I am among those many people who happened to read the Chetan Bhagat Bestseller Five Point Someone years back, before the movie 3 Idiots came into picture lately. And I must congratulate Chetan for such an entertaining piece of work. The book is indeed one of it's kind and I had been a great fan of Chetan since then. I was hooked up to FPS like a bee to a hive and had finished the book over a long weekend, almost within three days. To brief the overall experience of reading the book, it was altogether a very unique genre of story telling - a graphic way of writing wherein words were simply used to create pictures in front of your eyes. That is the beauty of this IITian. I loved the book, the plot, the characters and the style by which the author had put forth the story. The story doesn't stop with mere being entertaining rather, it imparts a very serious message to the society - the drawbacks of the current education system. And that is the significant feature of this masterpiece. With all the fans this first time author has won, which is a very rare phenomenon these days, Chetan truly deserves more than just a big applause.

As a first time reader, I was very much aware of the fact that the book was soon to be molded into a Hindi film. That is exactly what was being published on the cover pages of the book. And I am happy that the movie is live and starred by one of my favorite actors Aamir Khan in the lead role. I happened to watch the movie this weekend and this was when I felt like commenting over the fuss that has been gaining bandwidth in air and space in the newspaper columns. For a while, I have been reading the reactions of the supporters and the critics who have watched the movie but not read the book, read the book but yet to watch the movie and the ones who had watched the movie and read the book as well.

As a result, prejudices and mixed opinions were engulfing me before I was about to watch the movie. Given that the movie was made by some reputed director and was enacted by one of the most successful movie stars who believed in quality work, I expected it to be a good piece of work. To my dismay, it stood below all my expectations. Although, the film was successful in collecting huge money all over the country, that really doesn't gain much significance in my opinion esp. when I think and compare it to the original creation of the author - his book. I really do not want to get into the dirty politics being used by the film makers of the movie to promote and sell the movie. That is something that the Bollywood folks are best at. The movie at times gives us a good chance to stretch our lips - all credits to the father of the original wits, the author himself. On the other hand, the innovation that the film makers have tried to push within the movie makes it nothing better than pathetic. Their creativity fails with their silly attempts to feature a baby delivery scene in an obscene way. That is where Bollywood sucks at. It really hurts when they say that the movie is loosely inspired from the book when the primary concept, the jokes and the message was used from the book.

I am forced to accept that the entire episode and disregard duly hurts the writer community at a broader level. I can feel the disgust when Chetan wrote on his blog 'Imagine someone takes your child, dresses him up and tells the world it is theirs'. As far as Aamir's comment on this issue is concerned, I disagree to it too. When the author said that he felt neglected, it just meant that he merely expected his well deserved recognition; popularity ain't the destiny of the talent. You are indeed a great actor and so be it and your fans really do not need your comments on this issue.

Authors and script writers have always been one of the driving forces behind great cinemas and plays. The entire episode was an outburst of the front stage players overriding the back stage inspiration. Come on Bollywood, you need to learn to play a gentleman now.

Gifted Kids of the Perfectionist Moms

2010-01-09T00:00:00.002+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 6; the fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

January 09, 2010 Pune, India - It was a lovely Sunday afternoon but eleven year old Joel had no time to relax. He was fine with all the examinations he had given so far. Yesterday, it was History but his young mind was very much aware that it was the actual history of each passing day which was going to affect his final grades. As soon as he was back after his History examination yesterday, Mom had handed over the Mathematics text-book to him. She had taken an ample deal of precaution in order to strategically place his study table away from the window so as to prevent loss of his time in unnecessary peeks outside the room. Mathematics was his nightmare and his perfectionist mother took no chance to lose a moment of his time in things that are not absolutely necessary. She was happy about the fact that she was able to use her entire holiday to teach him some useful stuff in order to prepare him for his examination the following day.

"Mom, Can I have a glass of water please?", Joel asked as he took off his head from the solution his Mom was trying to explain him.

She looked back at her son in dismay. She was able to feel his inattentiveness and was feeling really bad about it. He studied his mother's expressions and then recollected the thrash of the wooden scale he had in his back an hour back. Just to avoid annoying her mother again, Joel was unable to stick to his question any further.

"Sorry Mom, I don't need water", Joel said as he immediately hooked up his head down into the book.

"Look Son, it's your Mathematics paper tomorrow - the one in which you are very weak in. You had a glass of water just twenty minutes back when you got up for a pee. Do you feel that I am doing all this for me?", she asked.

"But I am really thirsty this time Mom!", Joel exclaimed.

"This time? What do you mean by this time? Weren't you thirsty last time?", the mother was almost furious now. Little Joel realized the mistake he had committed by uttering the last sentence.

"I am ruining my holiday here just to get you prepared for your examination and you are finding ways to waste your time?", she almost burst out loud.

"It's not that Mom!", Joel said as he tried to calm down her furious mother.

"Shut up Joel! It was just because of your this attitude that you were ranked Second in the last Semester examination. I don't want to give your father a second chance to blame me for the mistakes you commit. Am I making it very clear now?", she asked.

"But I am done with HCF and LCM Mom...", Joel said as he tried to clarify his side.

"Now, Will you please stop arguing and complete the section B of this model question paper until I return from the kitchen?", she seemed adamant. Poor Joel had no other option than to continue with the piece of work his mother had assigned to him.

It was six in the evening when little Joel finished his job. It was just then he could hear the yells of the neighboring kids playing his favorite ball game. Realizing that he was alone in the room, he decided to have a peek off the window curtain. It was Sunil who was playing the goal keeper, he noticed. He wished he could join them but all he lacked was the guts to ask for a permission. Poor Joel kept on watching them, playing the game until he was caught by his Mom.

"You won't mind letting your parents down Joel, would you?", asked his frustrated Mom.

"Mumma, Look Sunil's playing downstairs too. Can I play with them just for an hour please?", Joel pleaded.

"Today, no way Joel. How can you forget that you were ranked Second last examination just due to a couple of marks lesser than Sunil? This time is priceless dear and I am sure that you would never want to loose it", she said as she tried to calm her temper down and handed a glass of warm milk to him.

Joel wasn't happy about it. He emptied the glass till the last drop. He gave the glass back to his Mom as he found his way back to the study table. He continued his study exercises for a few more hours until he was called off by his Dad for dinner.

Minutes later, the trio was fast asleep.

It was a bright sunny evening the next day when the school bus dropped Joel home. His mother was waiting for his arrival impatiently. As the door bell rang, she opened the door hastily and with a crave to read her son's expressions.

Joel entered straight inside the drawing room without taking out a moment of his time to look at her mother.

"How was your paper Joel?", she asked impatiently.

Joel looked back at her in disgust. "Not bad Mom; but it would have been better if we would have followed the examination timetable", Joel shrugged.

"What do you mean by that?", she asked with a puzzled look.

"It was the Computer theory and not Mathematics examination today Mom", he said as he banged his bag on the table and entered the kitchen for a glass of water. She watched him emptying one glass after the other as she stood right there, transfixed and spellbound.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

As The Sun Of Today Goes Down

2009-12-31T13:42:00.000+05:30

December 31, 2009 Pune, India - As the last rays of today's sun will cease the trailing events of this year, leaving behind a log of memories - bitter and sweet, here I take some time out to recollect them. To say tomorrow would be just as every other day but for many of us the closing moments of today's dusk will imply a completion of a milestone. I understand that this was not a very good year for most of us. Certainly, a year that started with a doom that resulted into job losses, pay cuts, pandemic crisis, terrorism, for many was not a pleasant experience. For the ones who were rather more fortunate to have their jobs retained ran into a great deal of mental stress right since the onset of this year. Recession has hit us all in one way or the other.

It's a beautiful Thursday afternoon here in Pune and I have just finished scrolling through all the pages of the newspaper. It seemed more colorful than yesterday. The dazzling fonts used in the names of the funky Disco Jockeys is tempting me to attend one of the numerous events organized in the city. I reckon, most of the people have already finished planning their schedules. The city cops are on an alert and have been patrolling for security measures. The city spirit is as high as ever - I remember its level during the 31st of the last year. No matter how hard our past was, we are much enthusiastic to open the black boxes of the forthcoming moments. A hope drives us all - a hope for a better tomorrow.

"Everything in life is temporary.
Darkness of the night; or a bright day. Even sunrise is temporary; so is sunset.
So if things are going good, enjoy it because it won't last forever.
And if things are going bad, don't worry. Because it won't last forever either.
Everything passes by"

Have a Great Year Ahead!

The Simple Saint of Shirdi

2009-12-30T20:03:00.000+05:30

December 30, 2009 Pune, India - 'What is it that makes an ordinary human achieve the status of a Saint' is the first question that tickles my mind whenever I happen to come across a never ceasing stream of disciples following one of the most famous saints in Maharashtra - Sai Baba. It was not before a couple of weeks that I had been to the village of Shirdi to visit the temple of Saint Sai Baba - for the very first time. As we are moving towards the end of the present year, each one of us is hoping that the new year could bring us happiness and prosperity. In an attempt, numerous devotees have started crowding the religious places like Shirdi in large numbers. A strong belief in the miracles of Shirdi's Sai Baba compel almost all of the devotees to hit the village every year. The crowds are really intriguing but I am an atheist when it comes to believing into all the miraculous stories that have been said and heard.

The temple of Sai has been regarded as a holy place for a century. We had reached the village of Shirdi in the afternoon. Shirdi is around 210 kms from Pune City and almost a 4-5 hours straight drive on the Pune-Ahmednagar Road. Provided that it is not the holiday season, it should not be a problem to find a good room for a overnight stay. The Shirdi Sai Sansthan also provides accomodation to the devotees who travel long distances to Shirdi. The all new Sai Prasadalya offers Prasad (the holy meal and breakfast) to the devotees at a very nominal price - this is something that truly promotes Sai's teachings of feeding the hungry. There are numerous hotels around the main Sai temple that gives you a feel that the place has been increasingly commercialized illicitly using the renowned name of Baba. Nevertheless, the place has provided employment to many vendors and hawkers that sell Sai Baba statues, fFowers, Prasad items, Sweets etc. The overall ambience of the place was filled with devotion but it was rather disheartening to see so many people spoiling the sanctity of the place by spitting and throwing garbage around the temple. I am sure that many of such acts happening around the temple will be ruining the sanctity of the holy place.

India has always been a land of saints and Sai Baba was one among such great souls. Most of the devotees are merely attracted to the word-of-mouth being passed about Baba. There are many fables being told about him that overall gives us an impression of his divine powers. I am sure that many youngsters today are blindly following Baba without even trying to explore his teachings or bother to understand the message he always tried to impart to the world. To say Sai Baba lived his life as a 'Fakir' - a person who has no possessions and who begs for food to live. Now that was the punch line being used by an old beggar who asked me for money in the name of Sai. Certainly, begging for food is a lot more different than begging for money. The act of the numerous beggars around Baba's temple simply contradicts the very own teachings of the Saint.

I simply do not understand why so many Indians believe that it is their birthright to spit around the streets and paint it red. The holy places are a no exception to it. The experience just gets worse when you decide to park your shoes at a flower seller's stall and walk naked feet towards the temple's entrance. Watch out your step lest you would step upon a fresh spit of the vendor from whom you just bought a bouquet of roses. This reminds me of Sant Gadge Maharaj, another renowned Saint of Maharashtra and a social reformer who strongly believed in the philosophy of lead by example by sweeping the roads of the place where ever he went. Gadge Baba was known as the master of the broom. He earned money by his impressive work and used it to build schools and orphanages. It immensely hurts when the names of the Saints are used to accomplish selfish motives often recklessly dis-respecting their very own teachings.

Saints have always worked to promote humanity and peace. Saints like Sai have always lived their life trying different ways to induce the good into the minds of the general public. Although mysterious, the miracles what they refer might be a simple trick to convince a good thought into our minds or merely to attract mass attention. Lighting the oil lamps using water, initiating a downpour using a wooden stick or healing an ailing body by means of a mere touch sounds intriguing to the reluctant mind. Probably, tricks was a better approach Baba would have thought of in order to inculcate values of humanity among the people. He has always been trying various means to achieve the same feat - singing and dancing on the poems (Dohas) written by Saint Kabir, spreading around health awareness and the importance of Yoga and Pranayam and so on.

Gaining a firm control on oneself is the toughest job in the whole world. A person who gains this divine power is truly a saint by himself. Unfortunately, people keep on searching Godliness within the confines of a holy place and opt to leave their problems to God. Nonetheless, the world has always been like this. It has always been hard to be simple. Hope to see a day when majority of the people start working for humanity rather than relying on some noble souls to lend a helping hand.

The Childhood Nostalgia

2009-12-22T18:32:00.005+05:30

December 22, 2009 Pune, India - Childhood days are the best days of one's lifetime and recollecting them will only make you feel more and more nostalgic. As a child I had a huge troop of friends whom I used to play with. They were my partners in crime - almost in all the little mischief I used to do - chasing the butterflies, scaring the little sparrows, collecting the dragonflies and honey-bees in a glass jar and then watching them fight, spotting and killing the lizards on the trees, building castles of mud and zillions of such activities. We have played numerous games, most of which do not have even names to be referred to. This post is an attempt to relive and recollect some of the most remarkable games that I have played in my teen years.

Bhavra - The classic 'Top' remains one among my all time favorites. I have nearly a zillion memories associated with this little hard toy. There were times when I used to reckon that I could conquer almost anyone in the world by means of a rope and my Bhavra (top). Here goes the game. You need a Bhavra and a rope. Last but not the least; you need at least one partner to play with. The game starts with drawing a small circle on the ground, preferably with a chalk. A stick is placed inside the circle. Each player attempts to bring the stick out of the circle - the fastest one to wind the rope to his Top wins the first chance to do so. The successful player remains out compelling other players to place their Tops inside the circle. Now it is the successful players wish to get the Tops of his wish out from the circle. One collision and here they come out. In this attempt, if any of the Top lies partially out of the circle, the Top owner can try his luck to catch his Top by pulling it up by means of his rope. The last one remaining in the circle has to bear the painful blows of other Tops. The remaining Tops keep on pushing it to a predefined limit marked by a chalk. In this course, if any of the other Tops fail to push the Top on the ground, the positions are replaced; thereby the Top on the ground gets rid of the pain. The ultimate aim is to get one of the Tops outside the marked limit. Just before the Top on the ground is pushed outside the limit by means of a last push, each player must have their ropes worn on their ears. Failing to do so, the player who’s Top is on the ground can touch any of the failing player and can ask him to place his Top in the circle for the next game. If none of the players fails, the same player's Top is placed in the circle or the next game. Once, the Top on the ground is out of the limit, the remaining players shout in chorus 'Kaan Ki Jaali Chuti'. That is fun, believe me. At the end of the day, some time is spent on counting the individual pores being made of each Top. A pore or a hole on your Top is not an accolade - the lesser the better.

Lagori - This game was the most popular games during my pre-teen days. I have seen some kids playing this game in my locality as lately as yesterday. It is one of the most exciting games esp. if you are outdoor game freak. In order to play this game, you need two teams, a minimum of seven on either side. You would further need a small rubber ball, strong but soft - softer the better, you would realize the need for the ball to be soft once you receive your first hit on your bumps. Lastly, you will need around seven stones shaped in the form of chips of different sizes. The broadest one goes at the bottom and the smallest one at the top. Each team stands equidistant from the heap of the stone-chips and aims at it with an attempt to disintegrate the neatly arranged heap of stone-chips. The team at the receiving end catches the ball. Each member of the respective team attempts his/her turn to break the heap open. The teams keep on trying this turn by turn, each time with a new team member. The team that is successful in breaking the heap should now arrange the heap back to its original position. But wait, this ain't that simple. The team at the receiving end tries its best to hit the ball to a member of the opposite team while they try to avoid the blow on their bodies. The breaking team members gain a point if they successfully re-arrange the heap and shout 'Lagorcha' implying that they are done with the rearrangement. On the other hand, if the receiving team is successful in hitting a member from their opponent team, they gain one. The game thus continues and the fun never ceases.

Gotya - A Desi or Marathi name for the age old marble game. Marbles have always fascinated me. And I hardly could remember all the marble games that we used to play when in school. Unfortunately, Gotya or marbles is now being regarded as a game of poor kids. In India these days, this game is well known mostly among the slums. I remember a couple of Goti costing around 5 paisa (a 0.05th part of a Rupee) but, as time passed by the cost has been increased steeply. Nevertheless, the precession loving kids have always been great fans of marbles. I used to have a huge collection of marbles at my home which I remember was donated to smaller kids once I reached standard ten. Being a grown up kid, I now wish to refrain young kids from playing marble games given that it nurtures gambling.

Vitti Dandu - The more well known name in Hindi is 'Gilli Danda' which is a game placed using two pieces of dried wooden sticks - one small (Vitti or Gilli) and the larger stick (Dandu or Danda) nearly three times the smaller stick. The smaller stick is bluntly sharpened at both the ends, almost resembling a pencil pointed at both the ends. The Dandu is sharpened at one end which is used to hit the smaller one at its edge such that, the smaller stick or Vitti flips above the ground giving room for the larger stick to place a strong blow at it. The game is usually played using two players but not restricted to it since multiple players would definitely add to the fun. That's all about the technicalities. Here goes the game - A small pit is dug in the ground at the periphery of which the Vitti is horizontally placed. A first player holds the edge of the Dandu perpendicular to the horizontally placed Vitti, ideally at its center so that when pushed, it is thrown at the farthest possible distance. The Dandu is now placed on the pit and the first player waits for the second player to aim the Vitti to strike the Dandu. If the throw of the second player fails to strike the Dandu, the first player gains three free shots to blow the Vitti far away. On the other hand, if the second player succeeds in striking the Dandu, the player positions are swapped. The game is almost endless and only fatigue can compel the players to end it.

Lapa Chapi - The traditional hide-n-seek needs no newer explanation. Lukka Chuppi is what it is precisely referred as in Hindi is one of the most popular games. I am sure that children of today wholeheartedly enjoy this game till date. This game needs nothing special to be used. All that is required is a bunch of playmates to play with - the more the better. The game typically starts with a process called as Sutane (Marathi) or Chutana (Hindi) which is basically performed to elect one player who is going to search the other players. Once the player is elected, his job is to go at an isolated place and count a predefined series of numbers (usually 1 to 100) while the remaining players get busy in hiding themselves. After the player finishes counting the numbers he starts the search. As soon as he identifies a player, he must shout the identified player's name followed by the word 'Stop'. The most important part of the game is that before the searching player calls out a name of the identified player, he must be very confident about his name. If he mistakes, that means he is landing himself in a huge trouble, usually by attracting seven turns to find all the players. That is something really painful and evening times really add to the misery of the searching player. The remaining players who are hiding themselves keep on doing so while they secretly and swiftly attempt to pat the searching player in his back. That is called a 'Dhappa' meaning that the searching player has to start it over again. In the course, all the players who were stopped earlier can now hide themselves again for a fresh game. The game might turn frustrating for the searching player if he is really naive. The hiding players try their best to fool him, sometimes by even exchanging their shirts - that is what we used to do. This was one of the most enjoyable games of my childhood.

Abaa Dubi - The name of the game might resemble a name of some Arabian country but believe me that it has no linkage to it by any means. This is one of the weirdest games we have ever played. At times, it could sound similar to the game Lagori but the only difference is that you really do not need the stone-chips here. A soft ball is all that you need to play this game. Now comes the part that you must be waiting for - the rules. Well, to your dismay let me tell you that this game has no specialized rules. Just grab the ball hit it hard to the one you like. The only constraint is that you must stand at the place where you picked up the ball from. That may really sound awkward for the first timers but believe me as the game progresses; you keep on making friends and foes. Of course the one who hits you the most is your foe. But that again does not imply that friends cannot hit you. You will enjoy the way friends turn out to be foes and the way your enemies turn out to be buddies. Nothing lasts for more than a minute and that is the beauty of this game. But just make sure that you don't hit someone's eyes or gonads lest the game won't remain a game.

Pakada Pakadi - The easiest of all the games. All you need is a bunch of players all scattered around the playground. The player who is going to touch the one random player among the other players is elected. The game commences and the passing starts. The player who is touched must chase and pass the touch to some other player, possibly the nearest player. Failing to pass the touch immediately makes the player to come out of the game. The ultimate player is termed as the winner.

No list of such nostalgic games played by the kids on the Indian soil would ever be exhaustive. Although these games are widely played and enjoyed by the kids, they are not really recognized much. But the gist is that they are an integral part of my childhood. I really wonder how many of the kids dwelling in cities are aware of such games today. Given that most of the kids today are caught behind the joysticks, televisions and PC games, I am sure that the count is not plenty enough.

Rendezvous with Kumbhari

2009-12-16T16:25:00.003+05:30

December 16, 2009 Pune, India - It was indeed an extraordinary experience for me last Sunday to be harmonious with the kids of the Kumbhari village of Ahmednagar in the State of Maharashtra. The occasion was not pertaining to my work with any of the NGOs, rather a wedding of a close relative. I had been to a small village like this almost after fourteen long years. What pulled up my ecstasy was the soothing climate of the village, the simplicity and openness of the people, the mind drifting beauty of the sugarcane and grape farms and of course the feeling of being rooted to the soil. I must admit that the feelings are hard to be expressed. However, I must admit that despite several of our technological advances in Indian cities, the villages are the places where we get to see the real image of our country.

The wedding was an hour behind the actual schedule and this bestowed me and Pratik, my brother-in-law an opportunity to interact with the local village kids. It is doubtlessly true that villagers of the Maharashtrian villages hardly bother of a formal marriage invitation before they make up their minds to attend it. A good news spreads like a wildfire and this fact was backed up by the soaring number of the villagers gathered in the Wedding-Mandapa. Unlike the city dwellers where people hardly bother to know who their neighbors are, this just illustrates the feeling of affection and harmony that prevails amongst the people of the remote Indian villages even today.

It didn't took much time for me to realize that we were surrounded by some ten to fifteen kids, all in the same age group. In small villages like Kumbhari, the local Gram-Panchayat schools are the obvious choice for some truly economical wedding ceremonies. The kids knew that although it was a Sunday afternoon, yet they had a special reason to come to their school today. I felt like starting a conversation with these sweet little kids and as a step ahead with it, I started asking them their names. Valmik, Tushar, Vijay, Aditya, I started straining my grey cells as they kept on recording all of them into their memory. Once the intro-session was done, I was totally amazed when one of the kids asked me my name. Of course, I do not want these village kids to refer me by my name esp. amongst our other relatives. Inspired by the ongoing craze of the television reality shows, I decided to play some games with them. Guess my name and here you will win a gift for yourself - the deal was crystal clear. But that was indeed an unfair deal, I pondered. So we decided to give them some hints. It starts with 'Nee' - the clues kept on coming until one of them guessed it right. That was Aditya, who just won an ink pen for himself. But this was unfair, the other kids complained, rather jealousy made them think of numerous reasons why Aditya didn't deserve the gift. He is from seventh standard, Valmik complained. The majority of the kids here are from the fifth grade; hence your deal is unfair, the group continued. And it didn't even take me a moment to realize how grave situation I had landed myself into. It took me sometime to make them understand that the quiz had its own terms and conditions and that it was irrespective of their ages and grades.

The quiz spanned several questions from the school text books, something they might be finding uninteresting during their school hours. But this game certainly made them realize their worth and the power of knowledge. We were able to read their minds so easily. I was particularly intrigued by Vijay's answer to my Mathematical question - twelve multiplied by twelve. Somewhere later, one of the kids told me that Vijay had got me the correct answer after a brief workout he had done in sand. One forty four, he seemed so excited as he presented me the calculated answer. All he wanted was a new pen as a reward to his efforts. Amen, wishes were granted.

Talent has been deeply rooted even into the farthest vein of India. Unfortunately, I feel sad to see so many young kids deprived of quality resources and infrastructure for their learning. Many of these little kids are forced to leave their education due to lack of proper guidance, amenities or a much essential financial support. The village of Kumbhari is an epitome of several struggling common people living in distant Indian villages. My rendezvous with the people here was remarkable and the quality time I have spent here has enchanted my mind. Wish I could go back and start leading a simple life as they do. No, is the answer I get instantly when I recollect my life, its priorities and dreams.

All In A Day's Work

2009-12-05T00:01:00.004+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 5; the fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

December 05, 2009 Pune, India - Being a city cop was never exhilarating for Head Constable Shinde, who had been serving the Mumbai Police department for eleven long years. Just as every other policeman, he led a mundane life that toggled between the hour hand of his old wrist watch.

But, today was a bit different day.

It was 8:00 PM when he arrived at home. His three year old was fast asleep. It seems like the right time to present his wife the gift he had brought for her, he thought. He was sure that this was going to cease all her complains she had against her husband.

"So Vidya, What do you think about this one?", he asked as he presented the gift and naughtily grabbed her towards him.

"Waa! A new Mangalsutra!", his wife exclaimed as she seemed so reluctant to believe what she saw. For a moment, she looked at her husband's face with gratitude. Although she was unable to contain her feelings, the very next moment, she looked down. A thought ran across her mind.

"You didn't like it?", Shinde asked after he read her expressions.

She shrugged.

"No it's not that, I liked it very much", she replied calmly "But, a ten grams of gold ornament received from a policeman is what made me feel sad"

"Oh! Vidya, you are impossible", the cop was really annoyed after he saw his wife not patronizing his expectations. He just recollected their quarrel that took place last month over her craving for a new ornament.

"I am sick of your dual-ended words. What is a poor policeman supposed to do?", he spoke with outrage.

Realizing that her gift had valuable emotions of her loving husband attached to it, Vidya was in a no mood to engage her in a dispute. She didn't utter a word and kept the unwrapped gift box aside on the table.

Ring Ring - The telephone bell rang.

"Shinde, there is an emergency. Please report on duty as soon as possible. There is another attack on the city. Make sure you report back to the police station as soon as possible", the voice over the phone said.

"I need to go!" Shinde said, trying to regain his senses back from his graveling family issues.

"Dinner's ready, please have it before you leave... ", she said in vain. Just before she could finish her say, he was out on his motorbike heading towards his duties.

He reached the police station in a few minutes. The city was under chaos. There were multiple incidents of violence and bloodshed in various parts of Mumbai. There were unproven rumors of the city being under an attack. The head constable was constantly in touch with the updates from the control room. There is an ongoing shootout in the vicinity of the Railway station, the instrument updated Shinde and his colleagues.

The chaos among the citizens were worsening with every second that passed by. By this time, the control room had reported several casualties and the toll was still on.

"ACP Jadhav, there has been a blast near Kama Hospital and three gunmen are suspected to be around the hospital. Cover up the hospital along with Constable Shinde and four junior constables immediately", a voice from the police control room directed the team.

Equipped with their service guns, a couple of vans filled with a dozen policemen headed at the venue. It didn't take much time for each one of them to realize that their service guns were proving futile against the planned attack of the intruders which was backed with the forte of modern ammunition. Despite being aware of their sapless plight, the six policemen tried hard to gain the control of the situation.

Shinde was shot thrice on his shoulders and twice on his left thigh. The last thing he remembered were the faces of his wounded colleagues and the blood-soaked uniform of ACP Jadhav. His subconscious mind instructed him to play a dead man, as he kept recording the moves of the events around him. But he was helpless when his consciousness gradually faded away completely.

Gradually, the fierce combat had mellowed down into a steep ocean of tears and blood.

"Beep beep...", a hoarse sound brought Shinde back to life.

He opened his eyelids gently, as he tried hard to recollect his memories. A severe ache in his back brought all his memories back to life as he tried to move his body on the hospital bed.

Shinde noticed that he was surrounded by a team of journalists, doctors and a few other policemen. Vidya was sitting just beside him. Her wet eyes looked red, just like the blood-stained cotton bandage that was glued to her brave husband's right shoulder. She held his hand and gave him a serene smile.

"Didn't you like the new Mangalsutra, Vidya?", he asked naughtily.

She looked back at him, puzzled. She wished she could cry, but she knew that it would be an insult to his courage to do so. She was a wife of a man who brings her the ecstasy and agony, both at the same time, all in a day's work.

"I wish, I could ever understand you... ", she replied, as she passionately hugged her wounded husband.

The True Art Of Living

2009-11-27T19:35:00.006+05:30

November 27, 2009 Pune, India - Man loses health, to gain wealth and loses wealth, to regain health. I really have no objections if your take on this statement of mine is inclined towards the lighter side but, it really concerns me to see so many lifestyle-obsessed creatures around who are so much negligent to realize that their sedentary way of life is killing them bit by bit everyday. For instance, a Project Manager in a multinational organization has been holding the same position for the past fifteen years. He is proud of his status quo and all the recognition and awards that he has fetched during the course of his work in these years. Interestingly, he is a Manager among his team-mates, a Manager among his relatives and still thinks that he is a Manager at home. On similar grounds, a professionally qualified doctor makes it a point that he prefixes a 'Dr.' before his introductory name. He is tagged - professionally, mentally and spiritually to his professional identity. There is nowhere he can escape from his identity. Certainly, monotonous lifestyle and the acquired perceptions therein, have been compelling us to fade away the real self within us.

I was stuck up literally at the phrase - 'my hundred percent', yesterday when I was at a brief session conducted by the organization 'Art of Living'. I generally refrain from getting involved into spiritual stuff and that is the perception I had in my mind about this organization. Spirituality is something that takes us to a different world, a world which is just very loosely connected to the world we are living in and working in. But that is not exactly what this is all about. I have been practicing a few exercises of Pranayam and Kapalbhati for some weeks and have been intrigued by the amazing results I have obtained. Probably, this could be the reason why I decided to join the session.

'"Yes, I give my hundred percent to my work" - was the instant answer to the presenter's question that was obtained from almost all of the participants. My concern was that how each one of us was so confident about our performances given that we really had no metrics to measure it. That would have been an obvious answer from a subordinate to his superior when the same question was shot at him during his appraisal discussion. But the context of the question here, had a larger scope - much larger than what most people had imagined in the room. A simple exercise proved every one of us wrong. We were asked to stretch our hands sideways, slowly and to the best of our abilities. That's our best, each one of us anticipated. However, when the same exercise was asked to be performed in a single jerk, we realized that we had almost stretched a lot more than before. Our best was now a bit behind our new bests - we pondered.

To say we are living our lives every hour and each passing day but, the real essence is that we are actually dying every single day, every single moment. Every single person in this world is chasing his own dreams, endlessly and carelessly. His aspirations have no upper bounds. To be very terse with the point I am trying to make, he is loosing his own self between his attempts to achieve his goals, trying to be like someone else - role models. Long working hours on a chair, occupational responsibilities and stress have been depreciating the quality of modern life. There has been a steady decline in the physical activities of a modern man which just adds more concerns to this health. By this time, you must have realized that the thoughts running in your mind at the moment are harmonious with the message I am trying to pass.

With my quell for physical fitness, for three prolonged years, I was a dedicated visitor of the fitness centers and gyms where I used to carry out heavy machine workouts. The results I obtained thus, were impressive but failed to live up to my expectations when I met with an accident a couple of years back. The aftermath of the surgery almost turned me down with a drastic loss of health. All I lacked was the 'core energy'. Just ask a professional body builder to perform any of the advanced Yoga exercises and enjoy watching him accepting his defeat. The reason being, he lacks the core energy which is not linked to muscle strength. Well, for all those gym freaks, let me iterate that building bulky muscle mass and curving your biceps is not really the true definition of fitness. It is something which is linked to your thoughts, mind, body and spirituality.

I have been practicing a few types of Pranayam for a few weeks and that is the greatest way I have found to achieve fitness of body, mind and soul. I am sure that most of my Indian friends must be aware of Yoga, Meditation and the benefits involved therein. My experiences have revealed that nearly all of our fitness problems are linked to our stomach and breathe. Kapalbhati Pranayam is the one that has the power to cure and prevent almost all of the common diseases. A regular follower, will find no chance to complain about his health problems. I have been experiencing the results almost within two days. Tough to believe my words if you are very naive to the topic but I urge you hard to give it a go - you won't really mind to spare mere 20 minutes of your time for your health every morning. You may choose to take help from some institutes or tutorials in order to start with Pranayam.

There is just too little space here to enlist the benefits of Kapalbhati Pranayam. This morning, I had been to the rest-room before I took up Kapalbhati and later, was compelled to visit it again. This is when I am able to say that I am giving my hundred percent in my work. Pun intended but yes, I am serious!

Terrorism Will Only Bring Us Closer

2009-11-25T10:48:00.005+05:30

November 25, 2009 Pune, India - Hussain Rizvi, a twenty year old front office executive at the Taj hotel in Mumbai who managed to hide himself in the second floor pantry during the 26/11 terrorist attack in Mumbai was more fortunate than the 40 Muslims who died in the incident. Salim Shaikh, a poor delivery boy from Wadi Bunder who helped transportation of the injured and the dead bodies to the hospital is so furious that he says that if he happens to encounter a terrorist, he will kill him. Nahid Merchant, a Muslim fashion designer who prays five times a day says that he hangs his head in shame when the terrorists compare their illicit success with the historic Battle of Badar, which was fought to protect Islam. Naeem, a fruit seller in Bandra complained that his business has gone down because people are scared to come out of their homes. Ram Singh, a North-Indian comb seller in the local trains in Mumbai who was at the CST railway station when the attack took place and helped the transportation of the injured to hospital says that he never bothered if the body he was carrying was that of a Muslim, an outsider, a Maharashtrain or a Shiv-Sainik.

We, the residents of Mumbai have been living around amidst our own internal issues and differences but history and occurrences have always revealed the fact that whenever there has been an external attack on our integrity that possibly poses a grave threat to our values as a human being, we have stood united and fought back the situation, forgetting all of our inequalities. No doubt, Mumbai is known for its this evergreen spirit. The 26/11 carnage completes one year today but the marks that this incident has created in my mind will always remain fresh, reminding me of the Martyrs who died for a great cause.

There were numerous interrogations that were carried out by the press and media reporters pertaining to the aftermath of the terrorist attack. Most of the immediate reactions spoke in a single voice, blood for blood. They had seen it spilled around on the railway platform, in the Leopold Cafe and the Nariman House, a part of it belonged to their dear ones and of the ones without whom they had never imagined their life. However, there was one comment from a Canadian wife who had lost her husband in the attack that moved me to a great extent. She said, that she had nothing against Ajmal Kasab, the sole terrorist who was caught alive in the operation. She would not like to see him given a death sentence, rather she would be happy to see him work for humanity for rest of his life.

Most of us do understand that terrorism is an ideology which results out of immature, shallow thoughts about an issue. People like Kasab, to whom we refer as the terrorists are mere bots who fall easy pray to the leaders of the terrorist groups. They say that they fight for Islam - I hope they even understand the meaning of the word religion. No religion teaches us to perpetrate violence and perform carnage of the innocent citizens.

My six year old niece, who only understood that there were some bad men killing innocent people in Mumbai, asked me why they did so. Often curious to answer her every question, I was embarrassed that day to not have any convincible answer to quell her interest.

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - their topmost pick on 28th November, 2009

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : Terrorism Will Only Bring Us Closer
Spicy : Neeraj comes out with some real gems quite frequently and this is one of them. The basic message which the post wants to convey is Terrorism is not based on any religion and no religion preaches terrorism.

If I Were A Baby Again

2009-11-07T21:42:00.014+05:30

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 4; the fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

November 07, 2009 Pune, India - She was turning sixty-five today and it was the greatest day of her life. Not because it was her birthday, rather because it was a day when she had received the greatest gift of her life, a one day-old grand-son.

The old granny had spent her entire life within the four walls, the old house of her in-laws. Her being physically challenged had almost always proved futile to de-motivate her in life. She had always been a loving mom of two kids and a responsible housewife. It was more than ten years now that she had lost her husband, the memories of whom were the only thing that she was living for.

She loved her kids more than anything else. They reminded her of everything she had faced in her life and most importantly, the sweet memories of her husband.

"He just looks like his grandpa", she said unable to contain her excitement as she scrolled her wheelchair towards the cradle of the newborn.

"You are right Mom", said her elder son who was amazed to see the enlightened face of her Mom. He noticed that she was actually laughing with tears in her eyes. He had never observed Mom acting this way in the past several years.

"You're crying Mom?", the son asked.

"Am I?", she interrogated as she rubbed her wet eyes with her saree, "These aren't really the tears dear", she tried to evade the situation.

She looked at the little angel who had just added an unusual zing to her painful life. She touched his tender fingers with love.

"You know son, his fingers are just like the ones you had when you were born!", she said as she caressed the little hand of the baby.

She recollected the memories of her life. Everything seemed so green in her mind. She continued to go back in time, back until she was drowned into her farthest memory - the young face of her poor father and the warmth of her mother's lap. They loved her so much, just like their other daughters.

Love must be blind, she thought as she looked at her crooked leg which was resting on the foot board of her wheelchair. They simply overlooked the need for vaccinating their little daughter, she recollected.

"By the way Mom, you didn't tell us what present you wish to have on your Birthday?", the son interrupted her stream of wandering thoughts.

She shrugged as she smiled. Her face had a spark filled with life, vigor towards unfulfilled dreams and ambitions.

"I wish, If I were a baby again!", she murmured.

Marathi Manus, Lead Or Misled?

2009-11-05T23:25:00.005+05:30

November 05, 2009 Pune, India - A few months back in Bangalore, we found Milan, one of the senior developers in our organization sitting gloomy and disheartened in his cubicle. Known for his loud telephonic conversations among his colleagues, it was somewhat awkward to see him quiet that Friday morning. After a pretty long spell of reticence, he narrated his shocking story that took place in the local BMTC city bus on his way to office. I was beaten up bitterly by three local goons for speaking Gujarati over phone in the bus this morning, spoke heartbroken Milan. His voice depicted the same as his bleeding elbow and muddy trouser did. That was a hell of an incident, an outrage of a bitter hatred for the outsiders intruding into the city, a result of a fickle minded yet strong belief in the regionalist ideology.

I have wandered in the corners of various cities of India, big and small; and it is almost the same all over. I can sniff a strong scent of regionalism in the air of Maharashtra these days. The Vidhan Sabha elections are just over and the results depict how this regionalist ideology is gaining support for false and undemocratic 'Vachak-Namas' of the myopic politicians. It is difficult to say if this is truly a victory of the voters who call themselves the sons of the soil, the most common 'Marathi Manus'. Certainly, it is a big failure of the nation's basic values - democracy and secularism when such political parties get ill-deserved success and undue significance to their ideologies. I am in a no mood to comment on what mission or vision is being beheld by the political parties like MNS or Shivsena in Maharashtra. Whatever might be Raj Thakeray's motives behind forming a new party - his fickle relations with his cousin and other relatives stand no good with the interests of the nation.

The common Marathi-Manus travels in the crowded local trains and buses in Mumbai and other big cities of Maharashtra. He feels meek and ignored when his seat is suddenly captured by a Bhaiyya (a derogatory term for a North Indian in Mumbai) who was standing just next to him. He feels superseded. This Marathi-Manus is harmless and non-violent naturally and hence he feels it okay to surrender his seat to the other. But such occurrences are mundane and the discontent keeps on accumulating with the passage of time. He is unable to vent out his disgust and displeasure until one day he finds a leader who speaks his language. He talks about kicking the *sses and thrashing the cheeks of the intruders. Our common Marathi Manus is motivated by his raging public lectures so much so that he votes for the leader in a furore of unthoughtfulness.

Leaders like Raj might be awesome leaders but their ideology and modus-operandi, if confined beyond a local Gulli, will cause tremendous harm to the state and nation’s integrity in the ultimate sense. It is very easy to gain votes by virtue of an awesomely entertaining, crowd attracting public lectures based on sympathy towards the unlawful rage of the Maharashtrians. The party can be successful in securing a short lived success by means of regionalist methods. It just means that some people have trusted you and it is your duty to live upto your promises. When it comes to power and ruling a state, a party must understand that they are ruling a state or a country and not merely representing a community.

I have a brother who is a couple of years younger to me. I had agonistic feelings when he was born and when Mom paid more attention to him. My young and unfledged mind felt neglected, which at times made me unhappy. That was it, my novice days but today, my brother is one of our greatest strengths. When in school, we pledged saying all Indians are my brothers and sisters a countless times. Certainly, several decades after independence, we are no way a novice country. What is making us so immature to support and preach such ideologies that puts a probable risk to national integrity?

The Marathi-Manus quibbles about being deprived of several things - admissions to reputed colleges, job opportunities or a vacant seat in a crowded bus. But there are reasons and far neglected root causes to all of these problems he is facing since years. The so called intruders are trying to dominate him just because they have the heart to live away from their hometowns, toil and excel in their feats. It often makes me feel sad to see a mere handful of Marathi folks moving and settling away from Maharashtra. Marathi-Manus is undoubtedly hardworking and talented but since years he has confined himself to his age-old taboos which are adding restrictions on his own mobility and growth. Our constitution gives every Indian equal right to mobilize and explore newer dimensions of life, work and opportunities. He can be the next Ambani, a CEO of a multinational organization, a space researcher or a lead vocalist of a death metal band, the world is an open space of opportunities. But that's possible only when he manifests the true meaning of 'Marathi-Manus Jaga Ho' - wake up!

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - their topmost pick on 7th November, 2009

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : Marathi Manus, Lead or Misled?
Spicy : This post is a must read for all of us so that none of us get into regionalism. It is important for all of us to realize that we are ‘Indians’ first and then comes our States, where we live. Neeraj has this post with a very strong and relevant message. Neeraj, it’s applaudable for someone to raise and write about it.

The Underprivileged Syndrome

2009-11-02T18:43:00.006+05:30

November 02, 2009 Pune, India - The housemaid had almost everyday seen the plump little baby yelling over the milk bottle. She had been working there for close to a couple of years. Although an integral part of the family, she had the feeling of being detached - for the very own reason that she was a mere maid within the family. Of course, she had her own roles to play in there but her most important role in life was not very different than the role being played by the baby's mother. She was the same is the very basic aspect - the role of being a mother. The only difference the maid could think of was that her baby cried due to the want of milk, whilst the other cried to evade drinking it. That's the irony of her life.

The reasons why an underprivileged despises the privileged could be many and many-a-times born due to shallow thinking or lack of the same. Yesterday, I happen to come across a mob from the slums thrashing a couple of metro sexual guys on the road. The dispute nearly disrupted the traffic on the road. I really do not want to learn the background behind the dispute. Unfortunately, all I could make out was that the whole thing had a blend of the poor despising the rich.

As a tiny kid, I played with Jeetu, a playmate from my neighborhood. I was always passionate about Jeetu's new toys that always inspired me for a new demand to my father. Thanks to my papa for standing true towards most of my demands but a feeling always dwelled into my mind that always reminded me of the envious state of Jeetu. May be that is the reason why I kinda hated him in those days. When it comes to the society, a similar feeling emerges into the minds of the underprivileged. It is present all over - in the mind of a localite when a group of IT professionals walk towards the Bannerghatta Road in Bangalore after a movie at the PVR in Forum mall, in the skanky language spoken by the grocer or a fisher women in the market when a big fat lady refused to buy her product at the quoted price and in the eyes of the hungry beggar who is pathetically looking at the beautiful college girls and boys having a lavish bucket chicken at the KFC, Gold Adlabs Mall in Kalyani Nagar.

For some, it may sound as envy but I believe it is something that has a deeper sense to it. I always had a very different feeling whenever I look at the construction workers who build skyscrapers but do not own even a hut to live in. They keep on moving and building temporary huts at the construction sites and live the life of gypsies. We do remember the name of the builder who built our houses but the worker who had literally carried bricks on his head cannot be even forgotten - just because he was never remembered at all. This is how it has always been.

The differences between the rich and the poor have always been existed. It hurts to see the pits and heaps among the varied sections of our society. Something that is a necessity for some is a much deprived privilege for many. Wealth and riches is not always a result of unfair practices. Almost all of the times, people secure their social statuses by their own merits. To be able to enjoy the view at the top, you must have dug your foundation strong. That's all an underprivileged must understand. The Pareto's principle will continue to hold true to the extent that the 20 percent of the population will hold 80 percent of the wealth. However, both have always been the two sides of the same coin and one cannot really exist without the other. Things will certainly change when the rich and the privileged understand the sentiments of the majority - that they still have to sail in the same ship, the very existence of which is based on the poor, laborious rowers down under.

I Hate Roshan Uncle - 55 Fiction

2009-10-21T23:22:00.003+05:30

October 21, 2009 Pune, India - This is my very first attempt to get involved into a 55 fiction story. I have been going through this genre of literary writings for a while recently. The stuff reminds me of the precis writing exercises during my school days.

What-so-ever, here is the story:

"The little one carried her new doll everywhere. It was a birthday gift from Roshan uncle, their family friend.

It was a break from those mundane chocolates, thought the little one.

Her parents loved their neighbors, their being caring and generous.

But she was unhappy about something, untold.

Few years later, she burned her doll."

Stunned? Now, if you are one of those who are parenting a child and still wondering the reason behind this, then I owe you nothing but pity. Child abuse is penetrating deeper and deeper into the veins of our society yet there has been a very little or negligible awareness in this regard.

I really wonder, how many of us would dare to stand up against this sadistic behavior. I also wonder how many of the parents are aware of their child's past and if s/he could ever gather the guts to speak that out. Many grow up, carrying a faint memory of their past somewhere in the corner of their brains yet prefer to keep mum.

Is it ever going to stop?

Parents of today, are getting busier than ever before. Baby sitters and neighbors have always been ready for their rescue. But, you could never adjudge their trustworthiness. The next time when your child says that s/he doesn't like someone, believe it because there is no face that a Roshan Uncle possesses.

Accolades: This post was referred by BlogAdda - the week of 24th October, 2009

Click on the image to get linked to the Spicy Saturday Picks post by BlogAdda on 24th October, 2009. They just keep dishing such wonderful posts and the least a community can do is support them.

The Lament Of A Golden Ring

2009-10-15T08:43:00.005+05:30

October 15, 2009 Pune, India - It was raining heavily that Friday afternoon. After a late lunch, her mother-in-law looked busy watching the afternoon television program. The day’s long work was making her weary; left with almost no energy to enjoy the show. She watched her mother-in-law who seemed so engrossed into the show that she didn’t dare to interrupt her. The show would last for another hour and that would give her enough time to grab a quick nap, she thought. Finally, with a heavy load of weariness, she moved on and reached the bedroom. She saw her father-in-law sleeping peacefully on the bed. She decided not to enter and came back to the kitchen to sleep.

The downpour seemed almost unstoppable. She stood in front of the kitchen window watching the rain. A sudden thunder, although a few miles away, scared her for a moment. She looked out of the window over the roof of the adjacent house. Her sleepy eyes were glued at the romantic pair of the pigeons. She always loved to watch birds. The newlywed held the window pane with her hand and secretly continued watching them in their nest. They made her think of her husband for whom she was waiting eagerly.

She was recalling the last three months of her new life and realized the way things had changed drastically in her life. Often she felt sad to have been departed from her parents’ place. It was her mom to whom she missed a lot. She remembered how she had convinced her mom, that she would be able to adjust herself in the cramped house of her in-laws. Things seemed so difficult to her in the start, her mind was so skeptical about her new life, new family members and the most crucial was the man on whom she had relentlessly believed to live her life with. She was not really bothered of it all. She liked what her parents had chosen for her future. Was it her parents? Not really, they had merely supported her decision. Never in her life before, had she given a thought to the fact that her life would change so much all of a sudden.

Her mind continued to wander in the past until she went to sleep.

She saw a dream.

"We don't wish to hear that again! A gold chain and a ring is what a groom's ritual must consist of" spoke a hoarse voice.

"I am sorry...", said a meek voice, "I really cannot afford this. Please try to understand my situation. This was never brought up before the engagement. I am really sorry. I cannot afford it. I am already struggling with my debts" the voice pleaded.

She woke up wide awake. She was able to feel the sound of the racing heartbeats. It was not a dream for real. It was the resurrection of the events in the past. Everything seemed so green in her mind. The dream made her revisit the wrinkled face of her poor father. She cursed herself for being the reason behind the soaring EMIs he paid to the Bank. His savings had yet proved futile to buy a golden ring to his son-in-law. The dream reminded her of the cries of her weeping mother who was equally helpless as her husband's savings.

She was unable to take the pain anymore. It was her mom's voice that she was dying to hear . She came out of the kitchen. Her mother-in-law still seemed uninterrupted by her approach in the drawing room. She walked up towards the telephone and dialed a number.

"Hello, Ma... It's me, Seema" she said, hastily.

"How are you Ma...? I miss you a lot... I just called up to say..." her speech was interrupted as her mother-in-law pulled back the receiver from her hand.

"Shut up, you freebie! It's not your mother who pays the telephone bill" said the in-law as she banged the receiver down on the table.

Her eyes were now filled with tears. She came back to the kitchen window. Her eyes were transfixed back to the pigeon’s nest. There were three of them now. The female bird held her eggs. The other two were filling her beak with the food that they had brought.

She burst out crying.

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - the week of 20th October, 2009

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : The Lament Of A Golden Ring
Tangy : The plight of many women in the Indian Society has been portrayed in this post by Neeraj. Neeraj has been dishing out some wonderful posts from time to time and this is one of them. A post which you cannot miss reading.

Once Upon A Monday Morning...

2009-10-10T00:02:00.004+05:30

October 10, 2009, India - It was the Monday Morning again and numerous things were haunting his weary mind. A weekend proved futile to soothe his much pressurized mind and soul. Why there has to be a Monday every time after the Sunday evening, he thought as he blamed himself for his state. Life has always been like that and today was a no exception to it, he tried to convince himself as he took his seat in his cubicle. He opened his office bag and got out his laptop computer, placed it on the desk and turned it on.

He continued to stare at its booting screen. With every moment that passed by, his blood pressure rose just as the loading progress bar which gradually moved towards the right. He looked down at his pot belly and thought about the escalation of the issue that took place in his project last Friday. It was not that he was a bad employee at work; sometimes things just happen and get out of control. Nevertheless, it was time to confront the new week. He must overcome all his fears, no matter what and that was the need of the time. He held his breathe for a while and started to recollect the events that occurred last week. Just as his laptop completed loading its contents into its memory, he seemed to be back with a recollection of all that he needed to complete for the day. Life has become so mechanical and it simply sucks, he thought.

A smile spread on his face just as he glared at the wallpaper of his computer - the car that he had recently bought. It seemed an expensive one but not for the ones who can easily afford it by paying all in hard cash. He loved his possessions just as every other office guy. All that life expected from him was to work for them, spend long hours sitting inside his cubicle and carry strains, tensions - Tit for Tat. Nothing is fetched in so easy after all, he thought. Despite all that he had, it never fetched him happiness. He hated his work, his boss and colleagues alike. He decided to come out of the early Monday phobia by grabbing a small cup of coffee from the vending machine. It was this liquid, that passed from one machine to the mouth of another that formed the key ingredient of the company's success, he thought sometimes.

I have to drink it, I have to work upon this shit and I have to finish this by this week - his thoughts continued.

He came back to his seat.

"Aahh...” he murmured in pain as a sudden stroke in his heart took over his control.

The very next moment he found himself on the floor. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the pain which just penetrated deeper and deeper with every moment that passed. And then it was dark, no feelings, no stress and no fear. He realized that what happened to him was paranormal. All he now knew was that he was feeling light, lighter than a feather. It was bright, brighter than the sun all over. He tried to look at himself, but it was nothing that he found to look at. It was something supernatural that had took him over. Suddenly, he was glued at the sight he came across. He was able to have a visual sense of his body that was lying on the floor, the chair which was tilted over the ground and his colleagues trying to wake up his body. He waited there, astonished and puzzled. It was him. Am I dead? He asked himself.

"Hello son!” a strong voice diverted his attention.

The voice was divine. It was like he had, never in his life, heard before. Although it sounded strange, he felt like it was kinda familiar. But he lacked enough memory to which he could relate this voice to. He looked straight upwards and halted his vision at a shadow which he came across.

"Yes, that's you my dear! You have decided to shed away your weary and discontented body this time. Follow me my son!” the shadow said.

"What?... Please don't..., God...” he stuttered.

"It's okay son. You have already had a rough journey until here. Don't worry" the shadow insisted.

He looked back at his lifeless body in grief. The office employees had by now gathered at his desk; each one trying his turn to bring him back to his senses. He stole a moment to think about all the pending tasks he had left behind - his family members, his only daughter, his job, unfulfilled promises, dreams and commitments. A feeling of guilt covered him as he felt sorry for hating his job.

"It's too early for me God. I want to finish a lot of stuff. I owe so many things to many people... please... I want to...” he spoke in despair.

The shadow listened calmly to every word that he spoke and to every plead he made. He was restless and seemed with a zest.

"There you are my son. You want to do it. That sounds like zeal to me.", said the voice. "I came to you as I heard your heart saying, you have to do it. Things are always easy when you say you want to. You still have time son. I cannot take you away against the power of your will. Bless you", proclaimed the voice.

A sudden jerk woke him up from the chair he was sitting upon. He took a look around. For a moment, he was unable to understand what was happening to him. Is this a reality or was that a dream? His thoughts resumed wandering into his mind. It must be a dream for sure. He recollected the words he had just heard. It wasn't the voice of the God but a thought from his inner self. He smiled at himself and opened up the email from his Inbox - this time with a zest. His work, now had realized a new purpose and it seemed much easier for him than before.

Most of the times, things are merely done because you have to; but, it makes a huge difference in your life when you do it because you want to.

Mindless Actions And The ACL Reconstruction

2009-10-07T15:53:00.006+05:30

October 07, 2009 Pune, India - As a child, I had always been inclined towards adventures. During the days when I was so tiny that I was meant to be carried in the arms of my Mum, I rather cried to walk with her finger in my hand. With the passage of time, this passion has seen a drastic rise and my love towards the swaying adrenaline levels has observed no negative momentum. I have been testing my guts right since my high school days - mindless jumping in the sand from the under-construction buildings, somersaults in the school garden for which I had earned an accolade of fracturing my left wrist and so on. Gradually, I had developed this unusual passion for diving and capturing aerial self-photographs. This had just started to soar to a dream of sky-diving until a couple of years back when I was deeply de-motivated by the ACL (Anterior Cruciate Ligament) injury in my right knee.

Well, that sounds serious right? Indeed, I know I had screwed up myself to the extent that my any sort of adventurous moves in the near future were going to be jeopardized. An ACL tear and the subsequent reconstruction surgery is one of the worst experiences one can have in life. This post describes my experience on the topic and possibly guides those people who are looking for this option in order to fix their ACL injury or the so called Sportsman's injury.

The ACL tear: Just before the Halloween of the year 2007, I had been to the Coorg district of Karnataka State in India on a vacation with my friends. The enchanting climate and the mind blasting natural beauty of the place didn't stop me from getting adventurous. We decided to climb a rocky cliff (without any safety precautions or a rope) on our way - now that is what I call a mindless adventure, insane and crazy. Almost all of us climbed mid way of the cliff but I was the only one who decided to jump from a twenty feet high altitude. And now this is where everything went wrong. Neither my mind nor my calculations worked. While I was mid-way in the air, rushing rapidly towards the rock solid surface, I realized the insanity of the decision I had made. Although I successfully managed to land on my feet, a cracking sound from my knee almost immobilized my further movement. Initially, it felt like a bone cracking sound which made me feel it was a fracture. It was just when the doctor examined my MRI scanning report; I came to know that it was a ligament tear - in fact, a complete ACL tear. Immediately after the injury occurred, it was accompanied by the swelling of my knee. The pain was so acute that it restricted even my slightest move.

Why Surgery? Many would be merely traumatized by the idea of getting operated on oneself to fix their ligament issue. Certain doctors may advise not to opt for surgery if the tear is not so significant. In which case, the victim must learn to be extra cautious about his adventurous moves all throughout his life. Although, at times the victim might feel pretty confident that the injury no more exists, he runs a high chance of getting his tear escalated due to any miscalculated body movement. Some victims, over a period of time, so efficiently learn to adjust their knee movements that they never realize that they are still a victim of a chronic ACL tear. In my case, it was a complete tear and I had no option other than to surgically reconstruct my ACL.

The Surgery: Believe me, a surgery is a no good experience. I was half dead, literally in the operation theatre when a wicked troop of surgeons performed their experiments on me. I was injected something using a needle that penetrated deep into my abdominal spine and within a few seconds, I was paralyzed and had zero sensation below my stomach. The surgery was performed arthroscopically meaning, a cut is made into your body and a camera is inserted into it to perform the surgery. The minute aspects of the surgical process are continuously observed on a video screen. I am sure the hospital must be having the recording of the entire procedure, which I would never like to ever watch. For over an hour, I kept on hearing the sounds of the drill machine, scary stuff, reminded me of the jigsaw killer of the SAW movie series. I kept on feeling thirsty at times, probably due to loss of water from the body during the process. Finally it was over. Gradually within 3-4 hours time, I got my sensation back and I was happy to notice that I was actually able to move my left leg.

The Rehabilitation: Life was miserable immediately after the surgery. I spent a few days on the hospital bed with regular appointments of the physiotherapist. My knee was supported by a knee brace all the time. Despite exerting full body energy, sometimes it seemed impossible to lift my knee. I was frightened by my doctor saying, if I fail to perform the exercises, my leg would be a dead leg. This fear motivated me and I gradually picked up the speed. During the first week after the surgery, I used a walker to move around the restroom. Later, I was told to put my entire body weight on my operated leg. The trauma still existed which reminded me of the day the injury occurred. It took another week for me to get out of the phobia. I was advised to use walking crutches for another couple of months. Initially, it was hard to believe that I needed crutches but day after day, I was comfortable using it. I used them for a month and gradually got rid of them. The day I threw them, seemed to be one of the happiest day of my life.

The second and third month, I took extra precautions in every step I took. I made sure that I do not exert unnecessary strain over my injured knee. In the second month after the surgery, I was able to bend my knee completely. Nevertheless, it was still very weak and timid. Exercising was the only way to build up the strength and vigor into the muscles around my knee. Six months passed by and I was by the time used to my new life. By this time, I attempted to run gently and tried to gain my lost confidence back. My exercise routine was now extremely irregular but the strength in the knee improved with every day that passed by.

This month, this nightmare is going to observe its 2nd anniversary. After the accident, life has taken a different turn - not that I have stopped being adventures but I am now able to differentiate good adventures from the mindless ones.

A Bliss Called Ganpatipule!

2009-09-27T17:19:00.006+05:30

September 27, 2009 Navi Mumbai, India - This time we decided to explore the land of the Sahyadris or the places beyond the Western Ghats, the western coastal villages across India. Typically, this place is known as the land of the Konkanis. The Konkani region is truly blessed by the Mother Nature that makes it stand just next to the God’s own country – Kerala. Inspired by the floating myths about the Konkani people, boasting about their hospitable and friendly nature, we decided to experience it this time. What an awesome idea it was to spend a few days of our life in the village itself, living in the company of the people and experiencing their lifestyle and culture. Ganpatipule, a holy village in the district of Ratnagiri, Maharashtra State was the ultimate choice. It was a sure breather from the strenuous city life of Pune.

The journey began on the Saturday night from the Swargate, Pune bus station at 9:00 PM. I have deep regards for the state transport buses of Maharashtra esp. when punctuality and versatility is considered. So our journey that started just in time didn’t take us by surprise. Since it was a night journey, it was nothing we had to see outside the window. After a few pit stops, it was the sleep that became our priority. Of course, a sound sleep is hard to be grabbed while you are travelling, but we tried hard lest we might waste the next day sleeping.

We reached the Ratnagiri bus station before dawn and I believe it was quarter to 4 o’ clock in the morning. At around 6:15 AM, just when the early rays of the beautiful and lazy Sunday morning hit the land, we reached the village of Ganpatipule. I looked outside the bus window and the breathtaking view of the mighty Arabian Sea almost made me hold my breath for a while. I never expected any Indian village to be so beautiful as this. Our bus continued drilling its way through the ups and downs of the roads, between the mountains, leaving behind the lush green flora every single inch and moment of our journey towards the village.

At Ganpatipule, we always wanted to stay at the long heard MTDC Resort, but we were unfortunate to get a room given that it was Sunday and a long weekend. Nevertheless, it is no big deal to find a hotel, lodge or any sort of accommodation here. The so called hospitable Konkani people are always ready to earn a few bucks from you and sometimes even end up quarreling among themselves to drag you to stay at their place.

Shree Kshetra Ganpatipule - Situated at a distance of about 350 kms. to the south of Mumbai is the pleasant holy place of Ganpatipule on the sea shores of Ratnagiri District. The ancient holy place of Shree Ganpati had sprung from the mother earth on the foothills facing westwards with lush green surroundings and waves lashing to a height of 2-4 feet or more and with a strip of soft sand leading to the holy place.

Just as the several myths floating in the Hindu mythology, even this holy place has various myths but the one that was scribbled on the walls of the Ganapatipule temple itself is worth to be believed:

History of the holy place – During the Mughal reign, some years before 1600 A.D. in a small village lived Shri Bhide who had a problem with one of the cows who refused to give any milk, since few days confused and puzzled, his cowherd decided to keep a close watch on her. To his amazement, one day he saw something unbelievable. Milk was itself flowing from the cow’s udder on the reef. At the same time a strong religious feeling encircled Shri Bhide. He tidied up the place and built a small shack on the spot and regularly worshipped the reef as form of Ganapati. Gradually, all the villagers began considering the hill to be a holy place. Some years later, a noble minister Annaji Datto Sachiv of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj built a small temple on the spot.

During our stay in the village, we visited the temple as regularly as twice a day. The west facing Lord Ganesha idol has a divine look. The statue is also visible from the sea shore provided the temple door is kept open. Devotees deeply believe in the holiness of the hill at which the temple is built upon.

We were lucky to have visited the village during the ongoing Navaratri Festival. The very next day of our stay here, we decided to join the villagers with their Pooja and rituals. Unlike the way the festival is being politicized in the Indian cities, there is one very good aspect of it I observed at Ganapatipule i.e. the celebrations are performed collectively at only single location called the Temple of Gramdevata. The villagers have a deep belief in their Gramdevata – Goddess Chandika Devi. Every night of the Navaratri brings in a schedule of activities which is appreciated by the villagers by due participation and devotion. The Aarti performed by them consists of chants of immense power – I was almost miraculously carried away by the harmony it created.

The people of Konkan are talkative and sometimes overfriendly. They are financially sound and are a true outcome of a blessed natural environment and its obvious gift. Although friendly, they are equally quarrelsome and notorious at times.

Marleshwar – Just 60 kms from Ganpatipule is a beautiful cave temple of Lord Shiva. Alternatively, Marleshwar is 38 km from Sangameshwar and 21 km from Devrukh. Marleshwar literally means the Lord of the village Marle. This temple is a Swayambhu (naturally formed) temple and has numerous myths associated with it. I am rather interested in the breathtaking beauty surrounded across this temple. In order to reach this cave temple, you need to climb more than 500 stairs which are beautifully built in between two mountains. While climbing these stairs you get to see a few waterfalls. Make sure you plan your visit during the rainy season (June – September) in order to experience the waterfalls in their best forms. Once you reach atop the temple, you would get a view of your life. The waterfall you observe from here is one of the best waterfalls in the world. Marleshwar is also known as the Kailasa of the Sahyadris. Just beware of the King Cobras around the place as the place is also known for the home of snakes at their natural best. Unfortunately, they were the monkeys that troubled us a lot on our way. Better surrender your eatables to them – they are always hungrier than you. Every year, during the festival of Makar Sankranti, thousands of devotees get together at Marleshwar near Devrukh city to attend the Marleshwar Yatra.

During our stint at Ganpatipule, we also managed to cover places like the Patit Pawan Mandir, The Birth Place of Lokmanya Tilak, The Paramhans Sadguru Swami Swaroopanand Samadhi Mandir, Pawas and the Bale (Ratnadurg) Fort which is just around the vicinity of the village.

The True Joy Of Giving

2009-09-14T17:45:00.006+05:30

September 14, 2009 Pune, India - Every time when you step your foot over the decelerator of your car over the traffic signal, you unknowingly become a part of their numerous targets. There comes a small kid with a torn, muddy shirt and a running nose in front of you. He keeps on giving you painful expressions, attempting to grab your sympathy and keeps on tapping you every second of your stint at the signal. He keeps on doing so but you do not budge. He notices your agony and then starts playing his professional tricks on you.

“Doh dino se khana nahi khaya hai saab!” says the boy.

Although, initially trying to move your mind away from him, you are now attracted towards the pathetic plight of the poor kid. Why shouldn’t you? That’s humane, isn’t it? You give a small thought over the situation the little kid must be facing. His claim that he hasn’t eaten anything for almost a couple of days, moves you. You are now not bothered about the cheesy taps that he was making on you, rather you take off a five rupee coin from your wallet and generously donate it to the boy. He could at least afford to buy a Wada-Pav (the Indian version of a burger) from my coin, you think. With no room for the magic word, the kid immediately moves to the car next and repeats the story. A tiny kid who hasn’t eaten for two days is standing on his own feet, asking for money on the sunny street and is wise enough to fool people like you – you think. That almost hurts you and makes you repent on your doings. You were just a part of their enormous customer base – the one with no face, no identity or an official list. A majority of these customers like you merely give and forget. A rupee or two doesn't matter much to these customers disguised as the so called compassionate souls. A few ones proudly bring out currencies of relatively greater denominations in the belief that they are really doing something great and supporting a noble cause. Of course that makes you feel blessed and relieved. The fact that you have helped someone in need makes you gain the feeling that you are spreading the goodwill of compassion and charity. Next, you forget it and move on just as soon as the signal goes green.

You think you just did a wonderful job, don't you? Just have a second thought, what difference has your small donation made to the life of that little beggar? Well, your five rupee coin was not used to quell the hunger of the beggar. In fact, you have just produced a couple of more beggars in the city. Imagine that the signal goes down every two minutes; every slot gives him more than enough chances to win the hearts of the passer-bys. He is not at all begging for food - that's the thing to be noted in the first place. Your hard earned coin wrapped in the sheath of compassion, was just being used to promote and encourage beggary. Don't be surprised if I say that you have just boosted the already prosperous bank balance of the beggar by a few more bucks. Winning mercy and kindness is the key of this illicit profession.

My father once said to me - "You give a man a fish to eat, you make his day; you teach a man how to fish and you make his life".

A couple of weeks from now, India is going to celebrate the 'Joy of giving week' - of course there is joy in giving as in the case of donating something to the needy and even if you fail to realize that your donation didn't really help improve the life of the recipient. Donations of such sorts doesn't help the recipient in the long run, it rather encourages the practice of begging. The task of the giver doesn't end when the receiver accepts the donation. A good donor must go a step beyond, ensuring that his donation is utilized in the desired direction and that he is really meeting the cause. This gathers utmost significance not only when your donations carry high monetary value, but also when you donate a rupee to a beggar on the street. Imagine thousands of sympathetic donors donating a rupee to a beggar – will fetch him enough money to beat your monthly income. If you're really desirous of a serious help to a beggar, spare some time and buy him a snack or a pack of biscuits and experience the real joy of giving. This is what I call a joyful giving. Unfortunately, you would find it difficult to catch hold of a beggar who is ready to accept your non-monetary donation - which is because most of the beggars around you are the professional ones.

Sponsor a child's educational expenses, become a part of some authentic non-government organization - there are many in your city, spend a weekend in a remote village, teach your favorite subject to the less fortunate children - something you always wanted to, donate a toy to a poor kid and enjoy the smile on her face, work part-time for an orphanage and experience the real joy of giving. I understand that we all are really pressed hard for time and sometimes money. The least you can do is get in touch of such an active person or institution and donate a few words of appreciation and encouragement. Tell them that they are doing an awesome job and experience the real joy of giving. Simpler even, say your Mom a 'Thanks'. I know that is much less to give to a person who has given so much to you till date - who else can you think of appreciating than a person who, for her entire life, has been doing nothing but giving. Tell your favorite person in the world, that you like him, send an appreciation email or letter to someone whom you always wished to or adored.

The real joy of life is not in expecting all that you ever wanted from life; it is rather in all those little good wills you obtain from your heart-winning gestures. Life is all about giving in the real sense. You never carry anything when you depart. Everything you have now, aren't really your possessions, those are mere obsessions. If this is the divine truth of life, why not cultivate this habit from now? Start making some meaningful donations and make sure you meet the cause. Stop wasting your money on the traffic signals and on professional beggars. Your joy will gain the true meaning when it will solely meet the cause. Your donations must work towards making this world a better place.

Happy Giving!

India is going to observe September 27 to October 3, Joy of Giving Week. The Joy of Giving Week is the beginning of a national movement. The first of its kind for India, and for every single Indian.

Religion - Let's Rejoice, Review And Reform

2009-09-10T19:48:00.002+05:30

September 10, 2009 Pune, India - My chauffeur, Imam asked me an unusual question last week. But before discussing that, let me make certain things clear in the first place that this post is not intended to attract any slanderous remarks over any religion or their sentiments. This is a prose that raises all those questions that have always been sitting in the corner of my head. I recollect that these queries were being interrogated by me a couple of decades ago when I was learning the world around me as a novice child.

"Why is it that there is a small rat beside the statue of Lord Ganesha?" asked Imam. Although his question was a result of an enthusiastic approach towards my religion, I welcomed his doubt given that he was a follower of Islam.

"A mouse is an official Vaahan of Ganesha!" I replied.

Later, I spent several minutes trying to explain him why most of the Hindu Gods had their own official carriers or the Vaahan. I named every other animal that I was able to think of including the dog, the peacock, the snake, the tiger, and the lion and so on. I felt happy to tell him that I could associate every animal to a respective Hindu God - each had their own official Vaahan. After that long explanation, it was not unnatural for me to expect a little bit of appreciation from him, to have shared a good knowledge of Hinduism with him. Unfortunately, his reaction to my explanation took me to a different world - my world of innocence and the childhood days when I often bombarded my Papa with a hell lotta novice questions.

"I wonder how such a meek creature is able to sustain the weight of such a huge body!" exclaimed Imam. I observed him as his exclamation gradually burst him out in laughter but that really did not hurt me. I was spellbound since I knew; I had no answer to that. And I was left with no choice than to anticipate and join him with his joke.

But that was not the end of the joke. It revived all those novice queries that I had as a child, as a newborn when I knew almost nothing about religion. I asked similar questions to the elders around me during the days when my mind was like a blank printer paper, waiting for an imprint to be made on it. Being born to a Hindu, they kept on imprinting my mind with the cartridge of mythological beliefs. I was taught to obey the taboos and venerate the Hindu Gods relentlessly. They made me accustom to offer rituals to these Gods and to remember the do's and don'ts of each one of them. One fine day, they made me learn that there are thirty three crore Gods I should believe in. I feel sad to not even learn their names ever. I wish I could have known at least the ones we commonly preach and organize festivals for. Alas! Neither mythology nor history has provided me a justifiable explanation to my queries.

Several years down the line, I was overloaded with too many things, so much so that I started learning to take certain things for granted. My religious beliefs were one of them. In almost every case, the religious beliefs are induced upon us. If I was born as an orphan, with no trace of my family, it is certain that I would have no compulsion on adopting a certain set of religious beliefs. As a Hindu, I have always been enjoying the popular festivals like the 'Janmastami'. Festivals, in India are something more than religious celebrations; they possess huge significance in social fronts. They are the occasions when people from various walks of life come together or rather integrate. I wholeheartedly, welcome such social causes that help us remain united and integrated. Lord Krishna, today has a profound sum of followers and is considered as a role model around the globe. As his fable goes, he was a well known troublemaker, a thief and an eve-teaser. He had his own troop of partners in crime that he leaded. If this is so, today, I suppose we have a great deal of such lords in the underworld, possibly even better than our famous Lord Krishna himself. They are ill-known as to be the criminals; they too possess some godly qualities that have still kept them untamed and free. Why is it that if gods perform the act, we term it as a ‘Leela’ (a play) whereas, if the same act is performed by a human, it is a crime? Well, jokes apart, this is not a true definition of a role model in the real sense.

Mythology fails to justify several things that includes, teleporting which was common among the Gods. Despite so many technological advances, scientists today are still trying to improvise the means of travel and transportation. True, but that’s where the irony hides. It is not unacceptable to believe that some great warriors in the past possessed exceptional skills in archery, wrestling and so on which made them famous. Lord Rama, for instance was well known for his archery skills, but his potential to use an arrow to bring down the biggest mountain on the planet seems hard to digest without a clear scientific base. Or is it a sheer outrage of a praiseworthy exaggeration?

I am proud of my country's rich and varied heritage. I am always ready to flaunt and boast about the heritage on which our culture is based upon. But it really makes me sad when I really find no answers to my queries, esp. when it has something to do with our beliefs and devotion. For ages, India has been a land of sages and saints but it is hard to learn that most of our religious values are still based on relentless superstitions. Several of our festivals, are being observed just because they were followed for ages. Hardly do we care about our natural resources that are bitterly impacted due to the activities we perform in the name of God. The toxic content being used in the statues we immerse in our rivers is ruining the sanctity of our water bodies. Liters of milk and curd are merely wasted in the name of God, when more than half of our population sleeps empty-stomached every other evening. A dozen bones and a zillion earthen pots are broken down during Janmashtami, all in the name of God. Millions of crackers are burnt in the name of God, when we, on the other hand, keep complaining about pollution issues and the global warming effect.

No religion tells us to preach the negative aspects of life. Evil and good, both are the two aspects of the same old coin. God, a virtual super power that we believe in as a human, tells us to believe in the good and condemn the bad. Now to perform killings and sacrifices in the name of god is unjustifiable. To riot and kill a fellow-human in the name of religion is not Jihad, it's a sin. I am sad to live in a world where people, who are incapable to understand the true meaning of religion, commit such sins in the name of religion itself. This makes me wish to get rid of the imprints that this world has made up on my mind and ink it with a sole religion of patience and compassion. God doesn't need loudspeakers to hear your prayers; neither does he need your rituals. He understands the language of compassion and love. This is where the true meaning of religion lies. Let us continue blowing the conches, let us keep ringing those bells, let us continue folding our hands and let us continue bending our knees. Let us dance and sing in his glory, let us praise the almighty but let us change.

Under The Broken Roof...

2009-09-03T17:17:00.010+05:30

September 03, 2009 Pune, India - The fifteen year old was in a no mood to listen at the cries of her ailing mother that evening. She had already shifted her mother’s bed outside the house as an attempt to get rid of her painful yells that arose periodically. She was sitting on the floor and looking straight up towards the broken roof of her house. It gave her a beautiful view of the dusky sky which was soon going to be covered with the darkness of the night. Winter had just begun and that made evenings last longer. It was going to be dark for long, she thought. She leaned back on the wall and faced the door, as if waiting for someone she always wanted to see. She kept on staring the door for a few minutes until she fell asleep.

Soon it was dark all around and the house was gulped up by the confines of the night. Unbothered by the thrills of the darkness, she continued to sleep, undisturbed by the evening tweets of the birds that had returned back to their nests. She slept seemingly lost into the serene tranquility of the dusk. She dreamt of her father. It was not more than a couple of years ago when she was so afraid of the dark. She dreamt of her father's arms which was the only place she sought to get rid of the fear of the night. It was the most secure place under the sun, she felt. She relived the day when he had bought her a new dress - the one she had proudly flaunted among her friends. She relived the day when her mother had prepared her favorite sweet on her birthday. Her face had an unusual glow as she smiled in her sleep. If a dream is what made her happy, sleep was all she wished to have. But the happiness that she searched in her dream was short-lived. She woke up suddenly, unable to see anything around her. For a while, she was frightened by the dark. Times had changed and her fear of the dark had significantly declined. I am a brave girl, she thought. It was purely circumstantial that she was now able to fight the dark, the hunger and the society. She decided not to light the oil lamp now. It was only a small amount of oil that she had in the house and she wanted to save it for the guest. She thought of the days when her house had enough oil to enlighten the room all night long, things were so easy and days were carefree; she almost had nothing to worry about.

Making her way through the dark room, she spotted the door and came out of the house. A few yards away, she could notice her mother sleeping. She decided not to wake her up. It's better to have her sleeping - that's only time when she could segregate her mind away from her abdominal cancer, thought the girl. She looked up and had a majestic view of the moonlit sky, as the wind made its way through her long hair. She was able to feel the barren farms, the stars, the oak trees along the country road and the melancholic chirping of the crickets. The only thing her young mind was unable to understand was why mother said that time has changed, when everything looked just the same.

"Is Surabhi there? Ramesh sent me..." a strange voice interrupted her stream of thoughts.

"Yes, come in!" she said as she bent her head down with embarrassment and invited the stranger inside the house. It was the time to light the lamp. She kept the lamp on the stove and ensured that it gave enough light in the room. Eventually, she spread an old carpet on the floor and invited her guest to have a seat on it.

She was unable to gather enough guts to have a look at his face. Every face is the same and it doesn't really make any difference to her, she thought. With no room for any second thoughts, she took a seat beside him.

She looked at the lightened lamp and felt happy to have the room lit. The thought that she was now strong enough to be able to kill the darkness made her feel confident. She kept on searching the feeling of security between the lusty grips of his arms - the kinda feeling which she once felt within her father's arms. Gradually, she started loosing her mind back in her stream of thoughts. A tiny teardrop secretly left her little cheek and vanished somewhere down on the floor.

She closed her eyes and kept on wandering in her world of wilderness until again an urge of hunger brought her back to her senses. She woke up wide awake and looked around. There was no one in the room. The oil lamp had already given up and the moonlit roof was the only source of light into the room. Once again, she came out of the house and had a look around. The mighty oaks still stood straight and strong and so did the open farms.

Time has changed for sure, she realized. And among the howling winds, it was only the chirping of the crickets and the cries of her weeping mother that she was now able to hear.

In India, 1.5 lakh farmers committed suicide between 1997 and 2005, and two thirds of them are from four states - Maharashtra, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Madhya Pradesh (including the present Chhattisgarh). Their impoverished families are left with no other option than struggling with debts and hunger. Vidarbha in Maharashtra remains a grim statistic. One suicide in every eight hours. More than half of those who committed suicide were between 20 and 45, their most productive years. The Maharashtra government says as many as 1920 farmers committed suicide between January 1, 2001 and August 19, 2006.

Accolades: This post was chosen as the Best Post from the Indian Blogosphere by BlogAdda - their topmost pick on 5th September, 2009

Who : Neeraj Shinde
What : Under The Broken Roof…
Spicy : What an awesome post to start with. Neeraj has this wonderful post, with farmer’s suicide as the backdrop. We would not like to reveal much but all we can say is the way Neeraj has written this post makes it a must read.

And She Wept in My Arms...

2009-08-27T18:47:00.005+05:30

August 27, 2009 Pune, India - I woke up early that morning and saw her busy getting breakfast ready for me. I rubbed my eyes and read the hour hand of the table clock - it was pointing towards eight. I got up from the bed and started walking towards her, just to realize the memories of the previous day. That brought me back to my senses. She was not talking to me, I recollected. I was finding it hard to locate the actual reason that had resulted into a dispute among us the previous day. This was the worst among all the quarrels we had so far. There was almost no communication that took place between us since last evening. Today seemed like a continuation of yesterday's battle.

I continued moving ahead in her direction. She was easily able to recognize my presence on the kitchen floor. For a while, she noticed me approaching towards her through the corner of her eyes. Ignoring it all, she moved her face on the other side pretending to be busy with her work. That was well enough for me to change my mind and my direction which was now diverted towards the refrigerator. I took out a bottle of cold water and emptied it till the last drop. I wished to start a little conversation with her. I knew she was not talking to me. Had I taken the initiative, I knew it would be kinda embarrassing to not get back a reply. I decided not to utter a word. Not again, I thought. I was in a no mood to relive a day which was same as yesterday. But, did I have any option? Her reticence was killing me, but then if she is not willing to speak - why the hell should I?

A few minutes later, we had left for our respective offices. Although, some pieces of work kept me busy all day long, my mind reminded me of her every other minute. At times, I wished to call her. I picked up the receiver a couple of times, but all my efforts turned futile. Let her call, I thought. If she owns the same feelings as I do, she will. It's not me who is at fault. I am not calling her and that's for sure. I tried letting not my mind wander in her thoughts. The day continued like every other day and ended just as any other bad day ever would!

I reached home and saw her already arrived from her office. She was facing the bedroom window as her body rested on the bed. I took of my wrist watch and kept it on the table ensuring that it made some noise. I noticed that this had diverted her mind from her thoughts. She turned her face towards me and looked - just the way a two year old would ponder at you if you snatch away his favorite doll from him. I kept looking at her.

"I have a head-ace!” she spoke in a low voice.

I reached her forehead and realized that she had some fever. She pushed my hand away, as if she didn't like my touch. I looked at her in anger.

"You are insane!” I shouted as I left the room.

"Please don't go!” she pleaded. I kept hearing her weary voice as I walked out of the house. Her voice faded away as I kept walking and ultimately came out on the streets.

The memories of yesterday and today started wandering in my mind. They kept on boosting my anger and kept reminding me of all that I had suffered.

I came back to the house after a few minutes and rushed towards her with a glass of water.

"Take this Crocin tablet. We'll go to the doc' this evening if this doesn't get you alright!” I said as I held her palm and caressed her head passionately. She looked at me with tears in her eyes.

"You went to the Chemist's? I thought... ", she kept on speaking as she looked deep into my eyes. Her reticence almost faded away as she kept dropping numerous tears down her face. Her voice kept resembling more like a small baby as she spoke and cried. I hugged her tight and she burst out crying.

"I don't need the medicine honey! All I need is you!” she said. Her words moved me from the bottom of my heart as they kept reminding me of all the stupid mistakes I had unknowingly committed. A paltry 'sorry' would never bring us back the time that we'd ruined.

She kept weeping in my arms as I followed suit.

A Pee-er Review!

2009-08-25T08:19:00.000+05:30

August 25, 2009 Pune, India - I was once, while I was attending the final rounds of an interview of a multinational organization, standing next to a few of my prospective colleagues in a restroom. Had I received the offer, who knows, some of them could be my new seniors, junior colleagues and last but not the least, one of them could be my immediate manager too. I agree that it was quite unnatural for me to keep staring and analyzing them at such a place. Unfortunately, I was very keen towards the gestures exhibited by a few of them. May be sometimes, my mind works in some awkward directions attempting to read some random personalities. Of course, I agree that a restroom is no good place to get to understand people or getting introduced to. Most of us keep on visiting restrooms, often during a working day most of the times, neglecting the people around us. But here, I was caught in a situation amidst the people with whom I was going to spend at least a few years of my life. It was just then when I thought of performing a pee-er review!

'Perfectionists' are the ones who are just and focused on the given task, in search of high standards in every feat they accomplish. Nothing could diverge them from their intentions to visit the place. They take care that not even a single drop is spilled outside the bowl. They come in straight and walk steadily towards the stall. And then, Just Go for it - Aim and Shoot. Washes his hands clean and leaves the room immediately.

A 'confused' pee-er saunters inside, wondering all the time what under the sun has made him feel visit a restroom. He takes a look around his fellow co-pee-ers and takes ample time to judge his bladdery movements. Realizes that it is worth taking a chance and stands in front of a stall. He feels disgusted when he realizes that there ain't anything to be waiting for. Quits.

The 'Curious' kind is much interested on how their neighbors do it. Try to peek from the wall and enjoys the way you do it. You might feel shy and would try to hide yourself from his uninvited stares. He would then try to steal back his stare to find someone over the other side. Do not always mistake them to be homosexuals, these are rather among the curious breed of Pee-ers. Rare enough! :)

The most boring kinds are the most 'punctual' ones. He realizes that it is the time for an afternoon pee-break, walks steadily in the restroom, looks at the minute hand of his wrist watch, notes it down in the mind. Unzips, pushes the boxer down with the left hand, and grabs the little man with the right - forces his bladder to finishes the task just in time. Not bothered much about the spillage. Wipes his hands and leaves.

A 'kiddish' pee-er takes almost half the time in unzipping his pants, sometimes brings it down halfway. After many efforts, he is successful and feels very happy about his accomplishment. He takes his own time to have a look around the side walls. Suddenly, he realizes that he missed the shot. Holds back his breath for a while and tries to concentrate. He loves the sound of the fluid getting accumulated in the pot. He keeps enjoying it until the time he realizes that he may finish soon. He then moves back and forth; left and right, making circles into the water and continues the game until he notices that he has victimized one of this shoes.

Desperate! Well, GO!! GO!! GO!! I believe that they do not fall under the reserved category. Basically, they can originate from any of the categories mentioned here. They have only one thing in their minds - to get rid of their pain. They are ready to reject heaven for the want of peeing. Nothing in the world is more relaxing.

Doubtlessly, my favorites are the 'creative' pee-ers. He looks for innovative ideas every time he visits the restroom. To discuss about all his ways would form a different story, hence let's not discuss it here. He finishes his task gracefully and looks up at the wall. He hates it clean. Takes out his ink and writes a beautiful slogan - the one he just thought of during his stint. The most intense ones among this breed are expert painters and cartoonists. They really make the place entertaining.

'Music Buffs' do not really need a description. Rather, their song describes them well. Essentially, they are not very good singers, but they enjoy humming, whistling and singing all the time unlike a 'moron' who takes off his fly, looks straight up at the ceiling, and pees on the neighbor’s foot. Ahh! That’s disgusting, my shoe!

I think, almost all of the personalities of the people could be read in a restroom. I would like to restrict my explanation to only these personalities lest my imagination would turn wilder, so much so that I would gain some second thoughts before I could post this article on my blog. But I would like to disclaim that personalities and work performances are two separate things and have no interconnections within. Further, I am still researching on the resemblance of a person's behavior in a restroom with his natural personality. So just keep this in mind the next time you meet me in the restroom - you are a subject of research.

Racism is a Self-induced Disease

2009-08-21T14:27:00.020+05:30

August 21, 2009 Pune, India - I had a hard time last week, explaining a European guy that I hailed from a country which consisted of 28 states and more than 25 spoken languages and thousands of other languages. Nevertheless, it wasn’t much surprising for me to believe on his imbecilic remarks just for the reason that he was never outside his own country. Subsequently, another thought haunted my mind – Are we Indians so ignorant about the people from the prosperous countries? I am sure that all my attempts to find such a person, at least among the well-educated sections from the Indian society would turn futile.

It is not uncommon in India for people to gather useless stares at a tourist or a foreigner (firang* – that’s what they refer as in Mumbai) who is on a brief visit to the country. Well, it is not about the stares and glares I am talking about, but I am unable to understand the reason why we are attracted so much towards the white skin. The Englishmen ruled us for years for the very reason and the prejudices that they were taken to be superior, more presentable and thus possessed the power to influence. Why is any thing that is darker than white, rather being wheat-ish or black is considered substandard? I was born to a mother whose skin color was fairer than that of my father. Later, I was being told by a family member that my Grandma prayed for my bright skin color. This trend is common in Indian societies and is omnipresent since generations. It is not that these thoughts of orthodoxies existed only during the reign of our Great grannies and Great grand fathers. It is disheartening that the inclination towards the whiter color is much appreciated than the human nature, his work, talent and merits even today.

One of the most affected sections of this self-induced racism is the fairer sex. A member among the fairer sex has no good future in the glamor-world if she is not born fair. An average looking girl does not stand a good chance of getting married to the man of her dreams just for the very reason that his family members do not prefer her to be a good match. In an arranged marriage, they would always ask for her younger daughter who is rather fairer. Isn’t it disgusting? Unfortunately, this is common among our societies. We have been overlooking these aspects for generations, so much so that they have become a part of our culture, taboos and more significantly, our attitudes. I have been seeing several advertisements being flaunted on the Indian television screens which claim their cosmetic product, a fairness cream or soap guaranteeing a brighter skin color – the product that has a potential to open new doors of success and enlightenment into their sad and non happening state of lives. Some cosmetic companies have not even spared men for their crime of being the darker sex. A typical such advertisement shows a dark colored, oily skinned teenage man sitting gloomy, disheartened for his skin color, unable to attract attention of the girl he likes in his college. Typically, he finishes the two week exercise of the skin cream recommended by the Company and here he goes winning not only the girl of his dreams but also a huge feminine fan club. The question to be raised here is that are such advertisements specially designed for the Indian market? The answer to which lies in the very fact that such advertisements are openly flaunted and anticipated by the various segments of people in the Indian market. This is obvious due to a basic reason that, we have taken dark skin as granted to be an emblem of inefficiency and incapability.

Caste-ism is the worst form of Racism. Believe me, even today it is not easy to be a student belonging to a so categorized scheduled caste, scheduled tribe and other backward class background. I still remember the attempts of my School Principal in class ten, to reduce my internal practical marks in the final examination papers lest I may score more than her son who studied in the same class. I am thankful to my class teacher who stopped this crime from being committed, who stood beside me and later communicated us this loathsome act. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do. It is not easy to prove the injustices you suffer due to your origin, social or family backgrounds esp. when most of such acts are not done openly. In a society where a person’s last name is asked in order to identify his caste, creed and the profession of his forefathers, it is difficult to grow up and rise esp. when you have not much in your hand. For years, great social reformers have been sacrificing their lives to abolish these unfair practices of such caste-linked biases. Even a majority of ‘Dalit’ population is downtrodden, devoid of basic education. Females are harassed, raped and brutally murdered in Indian remote villages for the reason of being born Dalit. A nation will never grow due to a handful prosperous men that make a mark, rather you must grow in harmony – it’s only when your people grow, your country grows. Reservations, although are helpful to provide opportunities that have been deprived off by the society from this population, it is not the only solution to put an end to these practices. If Racism is the thirty thousand feet view of the Indian society, Caste-ism is the ground view. It’s all in our minds.

There was this superb story floating around through e-mails which referred the downtrodden people among the Indian society as 'grasshoppers'. The fortunate and well qualified people referred to as 'the ants' got fed up one day due to the nuisance caused by these grasshoppers. They were worn out due to the internal politics within the country and due to the opportunities they were missing due to the burdens caused to them due to these grasshoppers. The hardworking ants suddenly became self-centered spiders and gradually decided to build their webs in the United States. The story finally ended up with all the ants landing up in the States and there they started to live happily ever after. In India, millions of grasshoppers are still toiling hard for their living. Well, have nothing to blame for the ants here because they are hard working, sincere, desirous of a society with equal rights and opportunities and laws fair enough for the benefit of all. I feel that these ants are myopic and lack the vision to grab a view of a bigger picture. They are myopic to the fact that these so called grasshoppers are real victims to the greed exhibited by them. These ants have been stocking the food of knowledge and power into their homes keeping the rest of the needy ones deprived of it. Now, let’s stop talking in the language of the ants and the grasshoppers - the story never covered the bigger picture of the whole situation. It's all about us, the people. We fail to realize the tougher situations being faced by the less fortunate people. We never exhibit openness of thoughts towards the socially backward people. A majority of the suppressed families don't even know how to avail the benefits of reservation. Today, a highly qualified business graduate thinks of developing his roots abroad, righteously neglecting his moral duties, giving almost nothing back to his country. This negligence is another form of racism and is the real picture of Indian society today.

We being humans, favoritism will never cease to exist in our minds, but it is rather more important to assess ourselves on the terms of the way we think about others. Being fair-looking or being born to prosperous parents does not provide us the ethical right to build a narrow outlook towards others. Just give it a second thought when next time you disparagingly refer an Indian a 'Desi'. This is the time to review ourselves before terming the world a 'Racist'.

Virtually Social...

2009-08-19T09:35:00.016+05:30

August 19, 2009 Pune, India - Rolling back the wheel of time to a point where we were small kids, I could imagine myself playing in mud, giggling around with other kids from our apartments, playing hide-n-seek with the kids within my network, enjoying, laughing, weeping after an unexpected quarrel face to face and getting engaged with real innovative games – the kind of ones which are hardly heard of by the kids of today. The story stands true not only for our high school days but also for the days just before we entered the college. My years as a kid were real exhilarating, for the things we did collectively as a bunch, as a network of prodigies and partners in crime. We played and soiled ourselves in the mud, soaked ourselves in the early showers of the monsoon every year and had committed innocent crimes with our own troop of partners. Little rascals, so were we. But this was my kind of social networking as a kid of those times.

Coming back to the point to where the wheel of time is currently pointing to, I notice that there is a drastic change to the way kids and people at a broader scale network and socialize. Keeping afar from the non-creamy layered sections of the society, to whom the word ‘socializing’ is not more important than their daily bread and butter, a majority of the children from most of the prosperous families have been caught into the vicious trap of online socializing. They have built their own set of protocols and a common set of terminologies which they often use over the telephone and lately the Internet. Their world is set up over the ‘Tweets’ and ‘Scraps’ they write and post online. They have their own set of followers to whom they refer as ‘friends’. Friends follow their tweets everywhere; some real good ones care to comment on them too. A person’s display picture on the social networking website is the face of the individual in the virtual society of online networking and all that he has inked down in his display profile is known to be his personality. Online Scrapbook, well, is something that you need not even carry, rather it follows you wherever you go - more the number of entries you have in it, the more social animal you are supposed to be. I remember the days when we carried our scrapbooks in our school to collect the autographs of our teachers and friends. But then, it was the way we did it as technologically backward kids. Times have changed and so is the way people maintain their stuff. Technology was just invented to make our life easier, wasn’t it?

“I have just created an online profile and have started adding new friends, some of them to whom I already know, some whom I do not know and some I haven’t even ever met. I send out messages to them periodically, express my thoughts, disgusts and joy with them. I do not really bother if they really understand me but it makes me happy to have so many people who are always available to me to share my feelings. I also keep on following other bots on the Internet and read their thoughts and feelings. I kept on doing this for days, for months and for years. I realize that I’ve started living in a virtual world of feelings. The very next day I come across an application that can very well be embedded into the portal I use to socialize, I can send out hugs, kisses and slaps. I also have an option to publish my actions within my network. Can it be any easier than this? I am damn sure not. All my actions are powered by binary codes and they absolutely have no restrictions. That is something I must be proud of. One fine day, something out of this world, made me realize that I have become so mechanical. Why do these online bots fail to please me when I am real sad, soothe my pain when I am ill or pacify my loneliness when I am in need of a real good company? Sometimes, I wish I had a chance to pinch the cheeks of a newborn of my best friend, wish I could have a chance to pat the back of my old friend for his promotion and wish I could share a cup of coffee with a friend who had not been in touch for ages. I am a human and sometimes I hate to be one. I have started feeling lonely. I see nothing but a notebook screen that has been creating an illusion of the world I am living in. I realize that although I have my friends and dear ones living in my computer, all that I am missing is their personal touch.”

Isn’t that something you might have ever felt? Technology has always been man’s best friend, a tool that has been shaping our lives, a boon to innovate the way we think and do our work. Online socializing is just another example adding to it. The globe is getting smaller and smaller each coming day. For years, technology has been giving newer dimensions to the way we perform our things in the real life. I really love the beauty of several of the social networking websites over the Internet – they almost can be epitomized as a visualization of the real life. Ironically, although it is visualization, at the same time it is virtual, irreplaceable and not substitutable to the real world. The tools available online are just assisting us to keep your ends tied to your contacts.

We live in a dynamic world. I call it as the real world. Let us refer the technologically visualized world in the social networking websites as the virtual world and the society therein as the virtual society. Talking about the real world, we live in a society that is formed of laws, ethics, behavior, relationships and numerous such aspects that I believe cannot even be visualized in a single go. The virtual world that can be surfed today on the Internet is actually not even a smallest fraction of the real world. I do not want to discuss the algorithms, the logic involved and other technicalities pertaining to the famous networking websites available today, rather just want to drag your attention towards some of the most serious limitations these websites possess. Ungoverned access to pornographic content, unethical hacking into restricted information, illegal dating services are to name a few. In no manner, this is a true visualization of the real world that I know and understand. The Internet claims that social networking is in the phase of evolution and would be the future of upcoming technological advances. Evolution is a never ending and an ever improving process but there are doubtlessly no substitutes to the basic elements that constitute to life.

One of my favorite bots from the virtual world, also my best friend in the real world says – “I love my computer because all my friends live in it”. Now that could sound funny in the first read, but this is something which needs a second thought when you login to any social networking website the next time.

But Be Not a Victim!

2009-08-16T09:01:00.017+05:30

August 16, 2009 Pune, India - Draught, pandemic, economic crisis, terror threats, job loss, unemployment, inflation, climatic challenges – Is that all what you call a bad time? Do you feel victimised by any of these ongoing problems? Have you lost the vigour, and passion to keep up everything you always wanted to do in your life? Well, go on as you are not the only person who is feeling the heat. You are just another affected person among the millions across the world. When I say affected ones, it means they are mere stakeholders of the adversities caused due to these ongoing problems and not necessarily the victims. It is the time for us to realize the force behind the world that keeps it going.

Things have never been so easy, but the present fact is that things were never so challenging either. The conditions are demanding men to equip themselves with more valour in order to face the newer challenges than ever before. Sometimes these happenings tend me to revisit the possibilities of the Doomsday – again and again. In a country like India where one of the biggest concerns is the human population, even the smallest of the small calamity could lead to numerous deaths. This has always been true since the onset of evolution and the theory proposed by Darwin sometime back in the pages of history stands valid even today. It is the fittest of all who would stand the wind. The fearful of all is the first to become extinct and that’s the very rule of the nature itself.

When I look back in time, I realize that it is the ray of hope within our hearts that drives us all. If someone says that the world is goanna end tomorrow, I know a majority of us would continue their usual routine, not bothered about the consequences of the future. This is just because, we have believed in the results obtained through the hard work of the morrow. Certainly, this is the correct approach towards problem-tackling. When things go wrong, it is not uncommon for a noble mind to get disheartened, get the feeling of being lost and depressed. This is the time to get rejuvenated. Different people have different ways to tackle depressive conditions. Many of us would like to divert out attentions, at least for a while, towards some lighter things in life. Hobbies and other interests help us a lot. Some of us tend to become spiritual, and try out prayers and chants. Prayers have a divine strength to rejuvenate minds. They help revive your valour and enlighten the ray of hope within you which has always been a driving force behind all your actions. But then you must be still wondering about your problems! They still exist, right? Well, they will always exist in some form or the other. No matter what methods you adopt to get yourselves prepared for the tough scenarios, you just need to face the challenges – no matter big or small. Some men find themselves broken down, experience a drastic fall in their confidence levels and seem stressed out due to the challenges they cannot overcome. This is the time when you are in need of a real breather. Try to come out of the bigger issues, take a small vacation and divert your mind for sometime. Come back and deal with some small problems – this could be as good as a puzzle, a sudoku or a video game. They help you revive your confidence levels, trust me.

Times are real bad and this is the time you need to build your own armour for the battle that is awaiting you. Staying fit is paramount and being calm is even more important. The human mind always performs at its peak when calm. When caught under disturbing situations, there is an obvious demand for a better performance. If you are affected by problems, you always stand a good chance to cope up. If you panic around the situation, you always stand a good chance to fall a victim.

Sinhagad - the Lion Fort

2009-08-09T13:33:00.009+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com

I find it not gainful enough to start the description of this fort with its glorious history since I believe that the Internet is already filled up with enough pages depicting the greatness of it. Sinhagad, formerly known as the ‘Kondhana’ fort has been an epitome of bravery for centuries. Every glimpse of the fort is full of the memories of the great warrior Tanaji Malusare – one of the outstanding Generals from Chhatrapati Shivaji’s army. His memorial on the fort reminds us of the bravery and loyalty of the Maratha soldiers during the reign of Maharaja Shivaji in the month of March 1670. Today, it is one of the prime attractions of the Pune city and is a great historical place, a true heritage of not only Maharashtra but of the nation.

Last Saturday, we visited the Sinhagad fort for the very first time. Most of the tourists who visit the place are not hardcore trekkers; a majority of them prefer to climb the fort using their personal vehicles. Needless to say, I was one among them. Although, there are government buses plying every hour from Shanivarwada and Swargate, Sarasbaug to Sinhgad foothills, it is recommended that you travel using your personal vehicle esp. a two-wheeler, a bike.

After a forty five minutes drive from Swargate, leaving behind the Khadakwasla dam, we reached near the Sinhagad foothills. Just then we came across a milestone that read 12 kms. We continued further to reach a toll pass of the forest department – charging us Rs. 50 for a four wheeler and Rs. 20 for a two wheeler. It was just after we crossed this toll pass, we started to feel the exuberance of the lush green forest and the cool breeze coming from the mountains. Adding to the excitement, it started drizzling that made our journey even more exiting. Suddenly we realized that the roads had started loosing its smoothness and soon it was covered with pebbles, pits and bumps.

The uphill journey was now filled with thrills and the unexpected curves seemed real scary. The smell of the water-soaked mud was enchanting our minds. If you are driving a two wheeler motor, I would advise you to be extra cautious on these roads in rainy season since the roads tend to become too slippery and hence more unpredictable. After a few minutes drive from the foothills, we reached the hilltop. It is hard to digest that once well-known for its strong fortification, the fort today is none other than the ruins of the great walls which once formed the fort’s assets. Just as you reach the top of the fort, you come across a parking area which is normally occupied by numerous vehicles. It is no hard job to find a space for your vehicle in the parking lot, unlike several shopping malls and joints in the city of Pune.

If you are a food freak, then the fort is a place to be. Don’t be amazed to find numerous hawkers and their stalls selling yummy eatables viz. my all time favourite Kanda-Bhaji, Pithala-Bhakari, Vada, Makaa (Corn), Matka-Dahi (Curd served in a Pot), Taak (buttermilk) etc. These are among the common Marathi dishes in the state of Maharashtra; but their taste is unique and doubtlessly worth trying. If you are from a foreign land, a tourist not belonging to the state, these fall among my most recommended eateries list for you. The hawkers and shopkeepers here are from the rural areas of Maharashtra and you will love their hospitality just as you would enjoy their mouth watering dishes.

For trekkers, it is an amazing journey towards the fort, almost 800 meters high; it makes a great journey amidst the green grass that grows on the mountain in the rainy season. The NDA (National Defence Academy) trainees are often found drilling towards and back from the Sinhagad fort as a part of their regular training exercise. The trek, although not very hard, would make you pant at times. But you definitely realize the worth of all your efforts when you get a glimpse of the breath-taking view from the fort. Provided the sky is very clear, you could see a majestic view of the Pune city from the apex. The bird’s eye view of the fort shows you the Panshet, Khadakwasla and Varasgaon dams. The famous Torana fort is also visible from the Sinhagad fort.

I happened to wander across the fort, glaring at the ruins of the fort. The most prominent landmark on the fort is the Doordashan tower, which is responsible for the television transmission to the Pune city. The fort also consists of the bungalows of the famous Maharashtrain social reformer Lokmanya Tilak and the renowned Marathi poet and writer G. D. Madgulkar (Ga Di Ma). The monuments that were built in the memory of Rajaram Maharaj and Tanaji Malusare can also be found on the fort. In addition to these attractions, the Pune Darawaza, Kalyan Darawaza, Kondhaneshwar (temple of Lord Shiva), Zunjar Buruz, Tanaji Kada, Kadelot Point, Western Point and Dev Take are amongst the other attractions that make a mark.

Just as our journey uphill, our return journey was equally enjoyable. The fort is definitely the best place for a one day tour, a good break from the troubles of the City life. The strategic location of this fort has always been an attraction for great warriors to fight for it. Many great heroes have sacrificed their lives for the possession of it, yet the Sinhagad fort stands still, for centuries.

“People ruled, people fought, captured and died; but none were able to retain. History is not about the ones who once ruled me, but it is about the great ones who gave up their lives for their love towards me” – is probably what Sinhagad speaks to us today.

Heirlooms ain't an Identity!

2009-07-28T09:51:00.000+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde

Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com

The mighty cloud had flown along a long way, hours of flight in the sun, crossing oceans and days of hard work gathering vapor. It was the onset of the monsoon and the mother earth was desperately waiting for a downpour. Suddenly, it was time when the old cloud looked no longer strong to carry ahead his load of responsibilities. Eventually, he decided to shed his work with the little cloud - which was born to him in due course. Ever since the little cloud was born, he was shadowed by the mighty father cloud.

The little cloud followed his father beneath and everywhere he traversed. They flew over the valleys, the pastures, the mountains, the lakes, the mangroves and the rivers. The little cloud always flew beneath his father and enjoyed every moment of his existence. He was very proud of the glorious history his father had. He boasted about all that he had - his heirloom and about all those things that supported his cause. The father cloud enjoyed his parenthood too and was always happy to protect his son from the winds, the lightening and the thunderstorms. He always cared for his son. The little cloud knew that, despite any forthcoming challenge, there ain't any reason he should be bothered at. Days were bliss and nights seemed clumsy for the little cloud. Life was a sumptuous journey for this little chap.

One fine day the father cloud realized that he was old, too old to carry any more work. He decided to give up and realize the purpose of his life. He spread up his mighty arms that resulted into a heavy downpour. The little cloud was frightened at the sight, which he had never dreamt in his worst nightmare. The heavy rainfall lasted for hours. The father cloud had quenched the thirst of numerous creatures on mother earth. The flora and fauna was blessed with the early showers of the monsoon. The little cloud observed his father's work and felt sorry for what he saw.

The rains had calmed down. The sky was clearer and the father cloud was no where visible. The little cloud looked at itself and felt sorry for his withered form. The air continued fading him away. He could see his father's work all over and in every space that surrounded him. The father cloud had survived his life in bringing up new things and creating things from scratch. He had devoted his life working, merging with smaller clouds and growing up to this extent. His hard work had fetched him name and fame on his own merits.

It was high time for the little cloud to realize that although he was a part of the glory, all that he lacked was an Identity.

The World Has Ended! - 21st December, 2012

2009-07-17T05:21:00.003+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com

This blog-post title refers to the newspaper headline which none of us might ever read in the morning of December 22nd, 2012 - just in case the numerous myths that are emphasizing the theories of the Doomsday are ought to be true. Unfortunately yes, the world is prophesied to come to an end on 21st December, 2012. The belief is backed up by quite a number of reasons - scientific, religious, geological, geographical, astronomical and so on.

I have been digging and analyzing the probable reasons that could possibly bring us towards the end of the world:

The Sun Theory: On December 21, 2012, the sun rises on the dark rift of the center of the Milky Way which is referred to as a black hole. In the last five years, the western astronomers have in fact discovered that there is in fact an enormous black hole at the center of our Milky Way galaxy. The Earth will be in exact alignment with the Sun and the center of our Milky Way galaxy, a galactic event which takes place only once every 25,800 years! No one knows what effect this extraordinary alignment will have on our planet, but the Mayans believe it would be terrible!

The Shift in Earth Poles (Polar Shift Theory): NASA believes the Polar Shift is due in the year 2012. The entire mantle of the earth would shift in a matter of days or perhaps hours during such galactic events, causing positions of the North and South Pole to change, further causing worldwide disaster, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, and other natural disasters.

The Magnetic Field: The Earth’s magnetic field will reverse, which further supports the Polar Shift Theory besides the prediction of Merlin that also suggests a polar shift. NASA predicts that during 2012, as the Sun reaches the end of the current 11-year sunspot cycle, it will reverse its own magnetic poles, which may further amplify the effects of magnetic field on earth as harmful charged particles blast away from the sun (also known as solar storming)

The Global Warming: This theory suggests that the real cause of climate changes, volcanic activities, and intensification of the seismic activity etc. is the planet Eris’s getting closer to our solar system once in 3600 years, named as 2003-UB-313, which ultimately results in the melting of the glaciers! This Planet Eris or so called “Nibiru” was first observed in October 21, 2003, using 1.22 m Oschin telescope at Mount Palomar Observatory (California). It is said to have passed between Mars and Jupiter some 7200 years ago, which most probably had triggered the cataclysm “Noah’s flood” and again this will be at the close proximity to Earth between 2010 and 2012, which can cause massive melting of the glaciers, causing huge tidal waves and ultimately, the return of the Noah’s flood!

Nostradamus's Prediction: According to the certain algorithms of Bible code, a meteor, asteroid, comet or an UFO (unidentified flying object) will soon collide with the Earth.

The Maya Calendar: The Mayan civilization is believed to be the ancient experts of time and had immense obsession to time keeping. Their calendar were so incredibly precise that its interlocking time scales of lunar, solar, and planetary cycles could accurately predict solar/lunar eclipses thousands of years into the future. Mysteriously, the Mayan calendar has no trace for the time beyond 21st December, 2012.

The Big Bang Theory: Just as the mystery of Big Bang theory continues, something natural or super-natural will take up the responsibility to bring the world to an end.

Scientific Experiments: European Scientists have been building the world's largest particle accelerator. It is a 27 kilometer long tunnel designed to smash atoms together to find out what makes the Universe tick. However, the mega-gadget has caused serious concern, with some scientists suggesting that it's properly even a bad idea to turn it on in the first place. They're predicting all manner of deadly results, including mini black holes. So when this machine is fired up for its first serious experiment in 2012, the world could be crushed into a super-dense blob the size of a basketball.

The World War: Do I need to explain the consequences? Probably not! The world has seen the devastating impacts of the nuclear power. The history speaks it all.

Nevertheless, if it really happens, then I must say it would be something far more than mere historic. Cos' history makes sense only when there is Present. If the doomsday is ought to exist, nothing won't!

Legalization of Homoeroticism Is a Ridicule!

2009-07-09T09:50:00.005+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com

The only probable difference that I could think of between heaven and hell is based on the fact - what dominates the rest! If the angels dominate its heaven and if the demons do, it’s hell. But, we live in a world that’s afar from the both. A place where we venerate the good and condemn the not-so-good, encourage all things that are sane, rational and just natural. We make laws just to ensure everything that deviates from such expectations are spotted out and are brought to justice. The same applies to homosexuality.

The section 377 of the Indian penal code just ensured the cultural, behavioral and biological sanity among the people until last week when it was irrationally decriminalized. Now does that really could be a modern-age law which could bring some good to the society? It is a hard fact that gay and lesbian sex has been prevalent since ages, but it has never found a legal consent due to its ill-bred roots. The Delhi high court verdict that decriminalized this law has certainly ruined the emotional, ethical, moral and cultural sentiments of the nation. I do accept that in a country like India where people from every caste, religion and creed live together, minorities do exist. And they exist in various forms including religious, occupational, physical or economical. But it is irrational to accept that minorities would be sexual. It is unfair to differentiate people by the so called sexual preferences.

I go to a shopping mall and have the right to choose the color and design of my shirt – that’s where preferences come into picture. If I develop a feeling to wake up at night and stab a random person on the street would not be a ‘preference’ in the first place. Though I might enjoy killing people, am I entitled to be called a representative of the serial-killer minority? Certainly not! The only reason being, although I enjoy my preference, I am causing harm to my fellow citizens and society as a whole. The same thing applies to the ill-bred sexual behavior. Bad habits do provide pleasure for some - the way consuming alcohol, smoking and gambling do! Although the homosexual couple might enjoy things they do, the fact to be noticed here is how positively the legalization of this behavior going to help the generations to come. Certainly, the future parents would not like to see their children entering puberty having a legal right of choice of being a straight, gay or a lesbian. Unfortunately, if that does happen then our glorious culture will be at stake.

Thinking from a plain scientific point of view, sex is a mechanism by virtue of which sexual reproduction is brought about in most of the living organisms. This has been happening for ages and right since the time evolution began. However, a few years later a few organisms like Dolphins and Humans started performing it for pleasure. Nature encourages vaginal sex since it is the only natural way by which male and female gametes are brought together. Now, looking out for sexual pleasures by means of unnatural ways is something that is deviating the natural trend. This, though not exactly a disease, is a psychiatric situation being developed during the onset of puberty. Nobody is a born homosexual. Cos' then you still require a heterosexual couple to raise a homosexual kid.

It is unfortunate that reputed newspapers have been portraying these topics of 'negative sexuality' in a positive manner. It’s shocking to read the newspaper columns supporting the celebrations over the law amendment. If psychiatry fails to provide an answer to homosexuality, it is a subject of medical research rather than a debate. The law was all fine cos' it was setup by a set of people who had a proper mindset and a constructive, natural outlook towards things. Stop quibbling over stuff that do not have a proper base. Stop relating such ill-bred habits to your fundamental rights. No human rights were violated by the law. It is rather disheartening that the government is much concerned in dealing with petty issues of this kind rather than dealing with issues of some grave significance like economic upliftment of the poor, the global warming or the ongoing economic crisis – to name a few.

On The Roads Of Pune

2009-06-26T10:45:00.001+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

"There is absolutely no traffic sense on the road and I really wonder that there are so few accidents!" exclaimed Dennis when I asked him about his experiences in India. Our discussion gradually turned towards the informal side after a 30 minutes long presentation. He hailed from France and it was his first trip to India. Dennis seemed to be amazed with what all he had came accross during his visit here. He had loads of questions but, it was the Pune traffic that kept us far off from the remaining topics.

"I've been travelling in the cabs here for almost two days and it is not less than a roller-coaster ride for me. Had it been France then I would have seen a hundered accidents by now." Dennis said. It seemed hard for him to contain the excitement. Did that mean that the city of Pune is full of skillful drivers? Nonetheless, I really found it hard to explain him how skillful the drivers and motorists in Pune really are! But, it is certainly not something the citizens of this city should be proud of. Skillful is a sarcastic word. Especially, when the city has been claiming itself as a knowledge hub for years, a lack of basic civic sense has been ruining the charisma of the place. I am very disappointed to see a complete lack of traffic sense among our citizens. More disappointing is the fact that they are the learned ones who are the rule violators. I have been travelling from Nagar Road to Hinjewadi for the past couple of days and have been finding it real difficult to drive following all the traffic rules. It is indeed shocking to know that most of them are IT professionals.

Here goes the lights yellow and there comes a pool of motorists fighting for every inch ahead to sneak out of the junction. The horns blow harder, and the one with a larger decibel level wins the way. The one who stops is assumed to be a stupid or rather unskillful. The light goes red. The smartest among them all notices a very few vehicles moving across the junction from the other end and heads hastily towards the other end. Certainly, he is never alone and is supported by a troop of followers. The RTO Cop enjoys this scene on the left. If he wishes, he grabs a couple of them and drags them aside. Grabs away his license, checks for the PUC certificate and other documents. If everything is in place, he still finds up some flaws and confiscates your document. The motorists pleads to get his license back. Some of them do not bother paying the fine. For a majority of them, the cop decides the bribe amount. Without any trace, money shifts the pockets. Crime for a crime - a good justice that is.

Is breaking rules now a part of our lives? How far does this sound good? I am not sure what to expect out of the local authorities but there is definitely a lot we can do at individual levels. Some minutes early or some years early, you decide.

Indians Are Coming Hard

2009-06-13T06:05:00.004+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

With the United States President Barack Obama emphasising on the need for the Americans to concentrate more on a quality education system and a more career-focused lifestyle, it is quite evident that things have started getting hard upon the kids of the rich dads. A straight remark over their Indian and Chinese counterparts and over the need for american kids to put in more efforts only states an increasing levels of competition in the near future. Given that the economic crisis continuing its affect on the job scenario, organizations have already adopted new strategies which include reduction in operating costs and resource optimizations. Talent is sought as always but preferances for a cheaper talent are on a rise due to this strategy. I condemn the recent attacks over the Indian students in most part of the world that is gaining increasing attention of the media. It is a mere outrage of the regionalistic ideology unlike what is shown on the televisions and other media reports. Racism has got nothing to do with the student attacks. All I believe is that it is just another side-effect of the ongoing recession.

An average Indian kid grows with a due attention from his parents and the dream to excel is bestowed within him naturally. I am an Indian and I do remember the way I was brought up by my parents. The love towards mathematics and science was a obvious result of profound dreaming and sometimes threat of being left behind. The passion towards studies and desire to excel is a natural result of parental attention. That has been a story of an average Indian kid since long. Apparently, an average american kid is born with a silver spoon in his mouth and grows up watching television and playing video games. On the other hand their Indian counterparts still keep dreaming of buying such technological gizmos and work harder towards getting those accomplished. They spend more time in classrooms and parents are more bothered about their kid's performances. America had consistently been the richest country for more than a hundred years which is primarily because they have had a strong education system. This has given rise to technological advances and a kind of lifestyle for an average US citizen that was never before so full of ease. There is a constant desire to improvize every thing being done no matter how small. The results are apparent and the products hence built are innovative. Is this really affecting the american kids! If it is then this is a high time for americans to take corrective action cos' Indians and other Asians are coming and they are coming hard. It is evident that most prosperous countries are the most recession-hit ones whereas the slowdown of this kind is certainly a stream of opportunities for all those nations who have been settled for mediocrity for ages.

No matter how tall a nation grows and how prosperous your lifestyle becomes, talent remains the driving force behind all. Despite unbeatable technological advances, the smartest of the smart systems fail to perform. India is a pool of talent and there has been a significant numbers of brain drains in the recent times. The reason why India is still a developing nation lies in the fact that a majority of its topmost talent works for the advancement of the so called developed countries. America still remains the major importer of Asian brains and a sizable outsourcer of its work. Importantly, Indians have been handling important parts of their businesses for many years. A good business does not discriminate among talents. All it does is respect the best of them irrespective of the nationality and the color of the skin. India will continue producing some best brains in the world and would form the basis for building a smarter planet. Every kid is born to excel but the only thing that make our kids different than those in the US or Australia is that we are born with a desire to excel by need. They are well aware of the deficiencies of not having something unlike the rich ones for whom prosperity comes obvious with life. We are not stealing anyone's job it is just that we are sincere enough towards our dreams and goals. Try not beating us physically but try beating our talent.

What Marriage Is All About...

2009-06-11T23:11:00.009+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

Spinsterhood and bachelorhood is probably the age when you are neither a girl nor a woman, neither a boy nor a man in the complete sense. On the contrary, this is a time in the lifetime when real important decisions are made including the one with whom you are gonna settle down for the rest of your life. People give mixed reactions about marriage, a majority of them think it as a surrender of liberty, a sudden addition to their responsiblities and a surrender of the personal space. A many of the lone ones often think of the opposite sex a majority of time yet confused enough to take some candid decisions. I say, such minds are still in the state of evolution and their confusion is very much linked to their state of being single or rather to the pros of being single - that they have been enjoying since years. Nonetheless, this is not the only reason why people fear getting married; financial stability and finding the partner of preferance also adds to them. Often individuals are found in a dilemma and get haunted by the uncertainties of the decisions they would be making. Will I be getting a better option than this one!, will I be happy with him or her!, Is it the right time!, Should I wait for a year or some - Believe me if you are phobic to questions of this sort, then believe me Marriage should not be on your mind. Or just making it simple, it is not the right time yet.

In almost any given scenario, trust forms the basis of a successful relationship and once it has been realized, love is the by-product. For the ones who have objections to this statement, I do not really want to enter into a debate. People with a converse belief may please continue believing so - I am fine as long as your belief keeps you remain happy with your relationships. But I strongly believe that love is a feeling that keeps on getting stronger when two souls stay together. Under no circumstances, it is born at first sight and neither in the subsequent meets. Nonetheless, infatuations do and a majority of them term it as love. It is just that you have met a partner of preferances whom you like and adore. Certainly, it takes lot more than this to get into this bondage.

It's far smoother to sail in the boat at times of ease and happiness. It's only during the not so easy conditions when relationships grow stronger. There's probably no better time than the times of pain, misery and sadness when you need a real quality companion. Although it is never too hard to find one during the good times - in fact you could find plenty of them. It's not that best friends cannot support you during your times of pain. Its just that you need a special support to rely upon - the one before whom you could relentlessly speak your heart, the one who could not only understand you but also the inner-self of you, your soul. This is the feeling that would fetch you something which all unmarried ones are longing for. And this is what being happy means to me. The world keep on finding ways towards happiness, but the ones who realize this would agree to the fact that there really aren't any ways towards being happy - its just that happiness itself is the way towards leading a good life. Every phase of life do has its own charm in the very own way as being single. Days go by and so do years of your life leaving behind your experiences with it. Being single would definitely fetch you a feeling of gratitude towards your current state of life just as being a child did to you a few years back. Time comes when you feel like living for others and find satisfaction in sharing and sacrifice. That is the essence of true love.

Marriage is all about sharing and caring for each other. If you are not ready to share and if you are not ready to care for others better stay away from this - for time being or probably, until you are ready. It is an amalgam of egoistic ideas, unexpected disputes, differences of opinions and interests. In a true sense, there is a lot of human factor associated to it which at times could be a hurdle to the strongest of the strong relationships. The greatness lies with the one who is ready to agree upon something that is kinda not preferable. People who love, do care for their mate and over a period of time would not agree upon something his partner dislikes. But the most important part is that they hardly build any expectations and if they do, its not really affection. Although you try being perfect all the time, it is ideally difficult to evade clashes. They might sound cumbersome but in fact they are the vital part of the relationship. As long as they are kept within a room, they form a crucial component for building a successful marriage. Nevertheless, it is all about what you give to your partner rather than what you expect out. Definitely, its not so easy to refer oneself as a 'better' half. At the end of the day, its undeniably true that the feeling to be owned by someone, cared and loved is incomparable to anything else in this world.

It's been 6 months for our marriage today and its not really 6 months older, rather 6 months stronger.

A Slice Of Hell

2009-06-10T21:16:00.004+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

I woke up wide awake as something hit my forehead just to realize it was a tender foot of a naked baby who was carried by her father back to his seat after a short visit to the adjacent toilet. I noticed the people on the floor shrinking their legs and crouching their bodies to avoid the water droplets that were still drippiling down the baby's tiny butt. Beside my right shoe was the wrinkled face of an old lady who was fast asleep amidst the crowded train compartment that almost lacked even a single square inch of empty space. Over my left was a man wearing a muddy, sweaty, filthy shirt that was constantly stinking worse than the jute sack on which we was sitting upon. I remember that smell - could be of the rotten bodies of dead mice soaked in piss. Just next to him was the body of a young boy resting his head peacefully on his sleeping mother's lap who was hardly concerned of her saree that had already left her shoulders and was already wandering somewhere beneath the lower seat. It was hard to believe that this innocent face was that of the same little rascal who was abusing the man on the opposite seat - fighting over the seat. I moved a little over the right trying to push the person with whom I shared the window seat. No attempt could have accomodated my left butt on the small space I had managed to grab in this general train compartment.

Atop sat two ladies who continously kept speaking on various topics - the make of their mangalsutras, the pickle receipes, the other lady on the bottom seat whom they commonly hated cos' she did not participate in their conversation, their common interests and matters of their common hate, Their talk was endless and so seemed my journey. I picked out my mobile phone and read the time - 01:14 AM. I could notice the motion of the train lowering down and gradually halting down. I lowered down my back finding out a way in between the legs of a young man who almost blocked my sight out of the window. I could see a few lights approaching and a few ones a little farther. And then the railway platform speeding down and down until it came to a complete rest. It wasn't hard to find the name of the railway station since the sign-board straight away faced me from the window. There were people all around, few climbing the upper berths, some on the lower, a few sitting along the gangway and some sleepy ones lying on the floor like dead bodies. The train had halted and most of the crowed kept sleeping. I stood up and checked up my bones, stretched them a little that soothened my body-ache.

A stream of hawkers entered the comparment as I sat back - now on my left butt. It was midnight yet I could see most of the crowd waking up from sleep. Probably the smell of the Sandwitches, Omlettes, Wada-Pav and Idli-Sambaar brought them back from their sleeps. I could gradually feel the odour of all these eatables dominating the stink of the compartment. The young boy who was sleeping on her mother's lap woke up suddenly. He stood up which woke up her mother from sleep too. Soon to find that he stepped up on the hand of the old lady that gave rise to an exchange of a few bitter words between her and the boy's mother. The boy was hungry I thought, as I saw him buying a couple of Wada-Pav from the hawker who was anxiously waiting for customers amidst the sleeping ones.

Five minutes gone and the journey resumed with the irritating stink coming back in place. With some polythene wrappers lying on the floor, some spilled up down the floor - compeling the ones lying down to change their sleeping positions, some awfully ugly yawns and some really stinky, bad, unknown farts it all began again. The old lady went back to sleep. By this time, the young boy had already gulped the two Indian-Burgers he had bought and now was resting his head back on his mother's lap. The man on the sack rested in the same position. The two ladies over the top who talked like old buddies were now found quareling. Another father making his way out through the people on the floor with another naked baby who had allegedly spoiled his father's clothes with some ample innocent shit.

Places go by, time passes by, things keep on repeating and people keep on hoping - to reach their destinations. That's probably the only thing that keep us alive and going in the hell.

When Nature Calls...

2009-06-03T19:58:00.007+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

And now the crew had no choice than waking up the two-twenty-eight handsome headcount of guests onboard that were peacefully sleeping in the midst of the night. The lights were turned on and the announcement begun. This was not a wakeup call. It was the call of the destiny. A few of the on-boarders were already wide awake due to the last tremor of the thunderstorm that shook the Air France Jet. It was possibly a lightening that had embraced the air-plane so passionately that it could dissolve it within itself at any coming moment.

One of the steward started the announcement - "Air France feels sorry for making this untimely announcement but we are in a state of a huge emergency... Our aircraft has been caught in the midst of a turbulent weather. Guests are requested not to panic. Please fasten your seat belts and remain seated until further instructions. Guests are requested not to panic... I repeat, Please do not Panikk..... " The announcement was interrupted by an electric spark that started in the front and within no time propagated till the tail. That looked like an electric failure or probably an unexpected short circuit. The motion came down to 300 kmph and then further lower and then the path looked far from linear. Then it was dark, pitch dark, cries, yells and no sense of direction. Uncertainty haunted the minds. The jet was huge and it started to feel like a dark room caught in an earthquake. The flight attendent who a moments back appealed to remain calm was now visible screaming in the lightening that just occured. The cabin crew had lost their contact with the ground as the air traffic signals seemed far from reality. Some wise chaps took off their seat belts and struggled to fetch their seat cushions. They were now able to feel the pull of the gravity and the weightlessness due to it as they realized that the jet was crumbling down towards the untrespassed waters of the Atlantic ocean. The fear of the death gathered on every face.

The plane felt a spontaneous tilt towards the left and the people over the right were thrown on the left causing a torque that gave it a full round spin. None of them had a grasp over the situation. It felt like a black box filled with marbles that had unpredictable motion. And then a couple of spins more. And then one more as the plane was accelerating towards the gravity. The cries of panic now turned into that of pain - some seriously wonded, a few fractures and possibly some heart attacks causing deaths even before the plane could hit the ocean. Each one of them belonged to different backgrounds - a few businessmen, some artists, some techies, some old, some teens, a few kids, may be a newborn and even unborn. They all had one thing in common, innocence and the fact that they all were going to die. The same death.

In all this chaos, none found time to notice when the engines gave up without which the Airbus A330 was no better than a broken arrow racing towards the earth. None of them realized when the aircraft was a mere couple of seconds away from the surface of the Atlantic. The winds gave up the control of the machine and the water took it over. The aerial chaos ended with a huge splash that went almost unheard between the waves of the mightly ocean. The jerk almost shook their senses and the chilled water made every part of their bodies numb. A few strong rushed up towards the doors trying to make it out of the enclosure. A few of them found their way out through a vent that was resulted after a central part of the aircraft was dismantled after the collision. Their success however was short-lived as a huge wave further drenched them into the depths of the ocean - caught in the middle of nowhere, unable to differentiate between the surface and the ocean floor. Every attempt to swim proved futile. Although, a few kept trying, trying in vain with no ray of hope in the darkness that ruled the oceanic storm in the center of wilderness. The chaos ended as soon as these dignified men and women got transformed into corpses - all 228 of them. Some got consumed by predators and a few got dissolved into pieces - food for the smaller ones.

Somewhere distant from here there are noble souls hoping for some divine intervention, rescue teams toiling hard to get some news, some debris. There are a numerous mothers and wives waiting for their sons and husbands who have almost lost hopes of their survival. A few merely hoping to get the dead bodies of their dear ones - the least they could expect is their dignified burials.

Tragedies do happen - even when you are not bothered of them, least expect them. Your riches won't help and neither would you yourself. I felt sad about this incident and that's what a human can do!

MBAs, Geeks, Freaks and Nerds

2009-05-14T14:54:00.014+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Unlike my several other writings, this story does not have any connections to my personal life. This post does not relate to any person or thing - living or dead. Any resemblance of this story or a part of this story must be treated purely coincidental.

I had never been to Bangalore before. Although the city was crowded but there was hardly anyone I knew except the hotel manager where I was staying for the past five days and the room service guy who sincerely knocked my door at six in the morning and broke my early morning dreams. It was time to shift from the hotel as I was no longer able to sustain the growing expenses. A few days more in the hotel would have wiped out my pockets completely.
“So when are you planning to shift sir?” a heavy voice spoke as I answered a call on my cell phone. It took not more than a second to realize it was Bob.

It was only since last two days that I knew Bob. Although I never met him, I was now able to recognize him over the telephone. It was not even a week past that I had relocated to this new city the streets of which were still so mysterious and unfamiliar to me. Moving to a new city was not a new adventure to me and by this time, I was pretty well accustomed to the changing daily routines, keeping on memorizing the names of the places that I came across. Of course, moving to four different cities in a span of mere six months is a tough job; needless to mention that by this time one could easily get more than accustomed to the dynamic life of this sort. I was looking for a city where I could settle for a year at least. And here I landed in Bangalore where I came across this guy Bob.

Bob Gary! Yes that’s what he told me was his name. We worked for the same software company. No matter his name sounded much different or rather non-Indian - it made me feel he must be a Christian. Although I had not seen him, I could imagine at least from his heavy austere voice, how he would look like. Though it sounded quite unfriendly, I was not worried a damn about it. Usually things are not like what they seem. For me the most important part was that he needed a room-partner and so did I. It’s always a give and take relationship that sustains the world, I thought.

“Hey Bob! I would have liked to shift today itself but I need to arrange for a cab to move my baggage along,” I replied.

“You need not! I can help you out with my car. Just bring your luggage along when you come to office tomorrow. Okay!” Bob said or rather proclaimed.

I was not able to think any more. His sheer voice made me feel that even if I attempt to refuse, he would insist. With no room for any second thoughts I answered “Thanks a lot Bob! I shall see you tomorrow then...”

The next day evening I called up Bob and he asked me to wait for five minutes at the company’s reception with my luggage.

In less than the time he had mentioned, he appeared. This was a guy just about my age or may be a couple of years more, height – an inch below six feet, complexion - not fair at all, pitch dark long hair which looked more mysterious than he himself. Probably his hair style was an imitation of some South Indian movie actor - I had seen on the posters across the street. He was too slim, slimmer than I had expected. At least from his bold, sharp tone I wanted him to be a strong and sturdy fellow. But again, things really are not as they seem unless you see them or hear them talk. Bob was dressed in professional attire with a maroon shirt and a plain tie which no way suited his black trouser. He was carrying something in his hand that was continuously moving about his index finger – probably a key chain. I have seen a handful of people having this habit who use it as their style statement or may be just to attract some attention.

He gave me a blunt look without a smile and continued staring at me for a couple of seconds. There were a few people around and may be he was searching for a guy that was me. I smiled at him though unsure of the fact that he was Bob. I could notice the declining speed of the key chain across his finger as he saw me smiling. I forwarded my hand towards him as he came close to me.

“Come on! Let’s go” Bob said confirming that the guy he was looking for was me.

He doesn’t believe in formalities, I thought when he failed to notice my approaching hand and started walking.

“Well! Where’s your car?” I asked.

“It’s just a couple of miles away! Take your bags,” Bob said as I looked at him in anguish.

“Relax buddy! Just kidding! That’s my car” Bob said as he pointed towards a maroon car that very well matched the color of his shirt. May be maroon was his favorite.

“Oh! That was good” I smiled as the frowns on my forehead gradually vanished.

“You have a good sense of humor” I said though his joke failed to impress me. I pulled up my luggage and walked towards the car. Bob quickly took his seat and opened the rear doors giving me a room to push my bags inside.

I was about to take my seat in the car next to Bob when I noticed him moving out of the car.

“Would you mind if I take five minutes. I need to buy some cigarettes. Why don’t you come along?” Bob said.

“Sure. I would definitely accompany you but would not be able to give you a company since I don’t smoke,” I replied.

“Not a problem man! Anyways, smoking is a bad habit” Bob said as we started walking along the lawns of the company campus. I noticed Bob’s walk which was as slow as a snail, contrary to the pace of the key-chain which was even now moving around his finger. I was walking slowly trying to match the baby steps taken by him. It was dusk and we were able to see the street lights igniting gradually as we looked outside the campus wall.

“So you’re a good guy” Bob said seeming to start a conversation.

I shrugged.

“I mean you don’t smoke. Even I have tried that but now it seems that I can’t live without it. There was time when I had discontinued this habit” Bob confessed as he looked at me hoping for me to interrupt.

“That was a nice idea. Then why did you start it again?” I asked.

“I gave up smoking yesterday evening but today I realized that I was wrong” Bob burst out in laughter as I joined him too.

We had now reached to a small Pan shop outside the campus. Bob bought a pack of cigarette and held one of those white sticks between his lips and lighted it. I could notice the charm on his face as he blew the smoke through his mouth and nose.

“Usually I leave late from office,” Bob said as he was about to take another deep sip of smoke from his power stick.

“Oh! You have a lot of work in your project,” I said trying to guess the reason.

“Damn work! Who the heck wants to stay late for working! I play TT,” Bob said.

“That’s good. So you know how to play TT?” I said and later realized the stupidity of the question. There are questions we ask people several times though we know the answer and this was one of them.

“Yeah, now let us get back. I’ve got what I wanted,” Bob replied trying to change the topic.

It was pretty dark now and all the evening buses had left the campus causing a heavy traffic on the city streets. The key chain in Bob’s hand was now replaced by the cigarette which was now half its original length.

We moved inside the company gate and soon reached back to the car. Bob took his seat and started the car. I followed Bob and sat next to him.

“So tell me Bob, in what position you are working? A guy who can afford a car must be holding some good position in the company” I asked pretending to be humorous.

“Do you really think so? Well, I had joined this company two years back as a consultant after completing my management degree. Since then I am here” Bob smiled as he clarified.

“Great! We engineers are always skeptical about pursuing a career in MBA and believe me once you get in the technical stream it’s really difficult to resume your studies back. Even today I am in a dilemma” I explained.

“Okay, you are a software engineer?” Bob spoke as I could now see the enlightenment on his face the meaning of which was quite difficult to be guessed at this very moment.

“Yes!” I said. The car was now out of the company premises and was making its way out towards JP Nagar.

“Even I was an engineering graduate before I entered into MBA. But I always wanted to be on the management side. May be I like to rule than to be ruled” Bob said eventually giving a long sarcastic smile.

“Oh great, that’s so true. So how’s your life after that?” I asked curiously like a meek creature.

“Nice. I mean damn good. Now I don’t actually work or rather work is replaced by responsibilities. This could be a tough job at times if you can’t make people work properly. So you see you are now responsible to what others are doing. But that’s a pretty good challenging job. It’s more about managing things and handling situations in a dynamically changing work environment” Bob kept on telling and I kept on listening as his words fascinated me more with his career.

“Well, that’s a better career indeed and now will you stop your long lecture before I start feeling jealous” I said with a flavor of mischief and that was enough to turn both of us bursting into laughter.

We had now crossed the crowded street and now were speeding on the highway from which our house was located over fifteen minutes of driving distance. The roads were sparingly wet as an effect of a small shower of the monsoon.

“Are you a catholic?” I asked.

“What’s that?”

“I mean are you a Christian?” I asked again.

“No. I am a Hindu” Bob said as he gradually gave me looks that spoke he was serious. I was expecting him to say something more but he kept mum.

“Your name doesn’t sound to be that of a Hindu. Bob Gary – I thought you would be a foreigner” I said and smiled.

“Yes. Many people ask me this. But what’s in the name” Bob replied as he turned on the stereo system and tuned it to some latest movie number. I could hear him humming the lyrics in the background that showed his interest in music. Eventually, Bob stopped speeding the car appearing to change the highway lane. He moved into an empty road on the left which further led us to a narrow lane which finally took us far off from the city crowd.

It was a muddy path and was soaked up with the rain waters that generated a sweet smell of the mud – the one that comes after the first monsoon rain. I turned back and watched the road that we were leaving behind. Initially, I could see a biker and a cyclist chasing us but soon we were alone and darkness covered the entire road.

I wondered if it was actually worth the deal as there were no residential buildings that I was able to see. All that ran before my sight was a clear view of the night.

“What about other roomies?” I tried to break the silence.

Bob lowered down the volume of the music system and looked at me.

“Let’s meet them” Bob smiled as he spoke.

We continued moving ahead a few minutes and took another left curve. I noticed that we were following a big wall on the right which probably appeared to be a compound wall of some big housing locality. I was able to feel the cool breeze splashing on my face through the vent generated above the glass window. I looked outside the window lowering the glass a bit more and was amazed to find an open land densely populated by trees and mangroves.

I never expected to see such a big open land in a concrete jungle like Bangalore.

Bob switched off the music and drove the car inside a gate. It looked like a decent apartment with more than a dozen seven floored buildings, well planned and constructed.

“Here we are!” Bob said as he stopped the car beneath one of the buildings.

I came out and looked at the society premises.

“Garden Villa!” Bob heard me as I read the name written on a wall on my right.

The roads were well constructed, centered by a garden which was well lit by beautiful lamps all around it. The garden shrubs seemed so fresh and the smell of their flowers enchanted me. It looked like a good deal and may be better if my house would be as beautiful as this place, I thought. But I never wanted to care - where could you find a better place than this for just a couple of thousand bucks per month!

“Holy shit!” Bob exclaimed as he helped me out with one of those bags. We dumped my luggage into the elevator and then pulled the elevator grill. I observed Bob’s finger as he pressed the key ‘Six’.

“I hope you get to meet Dev now. Usually he is the first to arrive home in the evening. Manish comes late. By the way what’s the time now?” Bob asked.

“Almost eight fifteen!” I replied.

The elevator brought us up on the sixth floor. Quickly Bob sneaked out and unlocked the door that read ‘Six Zero Three’. I took a look around. There were four such doors one of which looked like it was locked for ages. The other two were locked too but they seemed well maintained which depicted that they were occupied.

I followed Bob into the room. It was a large drawing room which had a cupboard, a wooden table and a bed well placed. In one corner was a desktop computer which no way looked new or rather dust made it looked older than it actually was. Just beside the computer was a refrigerator the state of which exactly resembled it. Right beside the refrigerator were lying three foot wares two of which successfully formed a pair. I removed my shoes.

“So that’s your new home. You may choose to live with Dev in his room or here in the drawing room with Manish” Bob said.

“What difference does that make?” I shrugged thinking that for me both were unfamiliar and unfamiliarity was common between me and them both. Bob looked at me and smiled.

“How stupid I am. I didn’t even ask you for water” Bob said and moved away inside one of the rooms. I pulled my bags inside and closed the door. I pulled the computer chair and sat.

“Dev must be inside his room” Bob said as he took out a bottle of water from the refrigerator and poured into the glass he had brought from the kitchen.

“Okay!” I said.

“Even he is a software engineer” Bob said emphasizing more on the last two words. May be he wanted to stress more on me being one. Nonetheless, this was not my concern for the moment and I was waiting for the glass of cold water which was still resting in Bob’s hand. I took the glass from Bob and drank thirstily.

“Thanks!” I said after realizing that it was some refreshing juice that Bob had offered.

“Let’s meet Dev” I said as I stood up from the chair.

A narrow passage connected the hall with Dev’s room. On the left of the passage was the kitchen which looked well maintained with jars filled up with grains and spices. I could feel a strange smell as I entered the kitchen. The exhaust fan was moving steadily due to the breeze splashing on the kitchen window. The gas cylinder was kept horizontal on the shelf which had small pieces of onion peels lying on it. The room was well lit but would have been brighter if the fine layer of dust on the tube light had been cleaned off. There were a few utensils placed on the shelf that failed to follow any specific pattern of arrangement.

“We don’t cook regularly. Mostly prepare some tea or coffee,” Bob said as he saw me staring at the kitchen shelf.

“Well! That’s fine,” I said as I burped.

We came out of the kitchen and turned left towards Dev’s room when we saw him coming towards us. He was a thin guy with long black hair which very well suited his tall physique that was wrapped in a towel around his waist. It seemed like he was just out from the bathroom.

He smiled when he saw me. Probably, he was aware of my arrival today.

“Neil!” I said introducing myself and offered him my hand.

“I’m Devesh. Bob must have told you about me, right?” Dev smiled as he looked towards Bob who was now busy staring at the kitchen tube light.

“Yeah he did,” I said gradually turning my attention towards Bob who was still staring towards the light.

“What happened?” Dev asked.

“Nothing,” said Bob as he steeply lowered himself and started walking inside the kitchen “I’m not gonna spare this piece of shit today!”

He had something in his mind. Some purpose. He directed us to keep quiet as he reached at the shoe in one of the corners. I stood still at the kitchen entrance waiting for Bob’s next step - who was now busy aiming a blow at the lizard above the tube light. He took the footwear in his right hand and little did I notice, the shoe missed its target and struck a glass bottle kept in the shelf breaking it into a million pieces.

That was speedy and more was the pace of the scary lizard that ran towards me. I jumped in fear loosing my balance. For a moment I was not able to understand what was happening. My sight was blurring as I tried to regain my balance and stepped on one of the glass pieces.

“Uhh!” Dev exclaimed as he supported me just in time which prevented me from falling flat over the glassy bed of pieces on the floor.

“Oh God!” Bob shouted as he saw the blood oozing out of my right foot, “I’m so sorry Neil,” I heard Bob murmuring as he too joined Dev in supporting me. Somehow I was saved from any further mishap.

“Shit! Shit!” Dev screamed as he saw the blood spilled over the floor. He looked at Bob in anger who was now meekly looking at him like an innocent child.

“Go! Get some water,” Dev yelled, “Look below for the glass pieces”

I sat down on the floor waiting for the blood to stop as Dev held my foot in his hand. A lot of blood had been lost making the floor near the kitchen entrance red. Dev took off his towel and tied a firm knot above my ankle. This stopped the blood outflow to a great extent.

“Where’s the water Bob?” Dev shouted as he stood up naked.

I was feeling something heavy in my back head that was forcing me further to loose my balance. I could see Bob rushing back carrying a water bottle in his hand.

“Here it is,” Bob said as he handed over the bottle to Dev.

“You nerd! I have told you to get water, not vodka” Dev said as I looked at him in anguish.

“Vodka?” Bob asked in astonishment.

“Yes, don’t you know that I threw all the empty vodka bottles last Friday when my parents visited us? I’ve transferred the left over in this bottle” Dev said.

“And you are telling this when I have already offered a glassful of it to Neil?” Bob said as he looked at me in despair.

“What the… Was that…,” I murmured unable to speak further. Bob ran back to the refrigerator and got another bottle, this time a water bottle. Dev snatched it from him and poured some water on the fresh bloody wound. He had a close look at the wound, searched for a glass particle in it but failed to find one.

“You need a doctor” Dev said.

“There is one just outside our apartments. I’ll take you,” Bob said seeming to offer some help.

I looked at him, annoyed. Was it really help that he wanted to offer or did he wanted to screw me further, I thought. I wished I could yell but was feeling heavier now than a minute before. More than the pain in my foot was the grief of drinking vodka – that made me realize the misery of a first-time ever prostitute loosing her virginity.

“No! I’m fine,” I said trying to evade from the situation.

“No man, you are not. You need a treatment. Come on let’s go!” Dev said as Bob burst out in laughter looking at naked Dev.

“And you need to get dressed up before you do that,” Bob said continuing his laughter.

“It’s all because of you, you nerd!” Dev said as he left inside his room to get dressed.

I looked at Bob as his laughter was making my state worse. I was not able to understand what was happening to me but the only thing I knew about me was that I was screwed. But then I was unsure of what was to be done. Who should I held responsible for this mess? –the guy who had filled up vodka in the water bottle or the guy who served it to me? But Bob, for whom killing lizards was more important than my introduction, was the reason for my anger at the moment.

In all this misshapenness, all I could observe was that both of them were escorting me, trying to share my pain no matter they were the very own cause for it. Bob, the guy who had fascinated me an hour back was now the reason of my despair – it made me realize that books don’t teach common sense; it’s a built-in feature one needs to possess.

It was an accident, a couple of them in fact, yet I had nobody to blame for. I spent the whole night at the hospital and so did Bob.

That day I took a decision – I gave up MBA.

Random Faces

2009-05-11T19:36:00.014+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

I have been coming across a variety of stupids around here in Yerawada - one of the core places in the city of Pune. The place is historic and it is famous. The reasons being two fold - the Mental Hospital and other being of course, the Prison. Sometimes, it often makes me feel embarrased to say that I stay in Yerawada, not for any specific reason but this is usually followed by suspicious stares that clearly ask the same question. Well, jokes apart this has been a good adventurous place for me till date. I am always fond of new places and interestingly when it makes me feel different than the places I have already stayed before. It won't make one feel uncommon to know that within a particular culture or place the people are friendly and helpful. But certainly it would make you feel kinda awkward if I say that people around the place I stay are real Crazy. People from all walks of life can be found here. This doesn't necessarily be a generic comment that would be applicable to all the residents of the place but certainly, I cannot deny the fact that I am still hunting down the person here with gestures of sanity. I am sure my hunt would end up with a no-conclusion if I bother to search such a person among the local auto-drivers.

Nevertheless, this story isn't about any of these species. Often, something won't compell you to scribble a story in your blog unless it gathers your good deal of attention, makes a mark in your mind for at least a day long or something that couldn't have stopped giving you a good laugh. But something, as I believed, as paltry as asking locations to a random person on the street definitely wouldn't have found a space here until yesterday.

Though my wife might not agree to this but I am scared most of the times when I drive across the mighty Prison-wall on the Airport road of Yerawada - More appropriately on the road between the psychiatric hospital and the prison. Now this is where you get to see some real adventurous species loitering by the streets. This is where I find it wise to speed up and sneak away within no time. Certainly, it is not wise to guess how a person's brain works by mere glaring at his face. Looks might be deceptive but you are left with no option when you are looking out for pointers to find out the given location, the premises, the building and the appartment.

"Boss, where can I find Mittal Society?", I asked an aged man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties as I took another chance to spot a random person on the streets of Pratik Nagar in Yerawada yesterday.

It was a lovely Sunday evening and here I was looking for directions with my wife. The man was neatly dressed in a clean, neatly pressed blue shirt and a gray trouser. Bald from the top but had fine hair on his rear-head and the sideways. He walked in his own thoughts staring at the street pebbles as they came across his way.

He gave me a bizzare look while holding his left hand on his mouth.

"You are already in Mittal society. This is it", he spoke as I noticed a couple of frowns gathering on his old forehead.

"Where you want to go?", he asked enthusiastically.

"I am looking for building no. 38", I said asking for help.

He seemed to be lost in his world of thoughts again as we waited for my question to be answered. We waited and waited some more. And then a bit more as we saw him struggling harder and harder with every moment that passed by.

"Do you know it?", I asked hastily as I realized that we were loosing time as we waited him to answer.

"No, I don't know the building but I want to help you out", he replied.

"If you don't know the place how can you help?", I asked as I realized that I was wasting our time before him.

"If you could just park your vehicle by the street, we can sit down and discuss. I will help you try to figure out the place. Does that sound sensible to you?", he asked as we came across his awesomely hospitable gesture to help us out.

He looked at us both and stood upright firmly demanding an answer. I looked at my wife who by this time had already burst into laughter and that couldn't even stop me either. This was not something what I would have liked to do especially at someone who was offering us help keeping aside his own work. I do respect gray hairs but sometimes it is difficult to find out what they are expecting from us. Probably, they are looking out for a mere company to spend time with or searching out a testee in order to figure out how they are recuperating their mental damages - you would never know!

"Thats a good idea but I am in a hurry!", I replied as I pulled up the gear still on with the laughter.

Random people on the street have always captured my interest. The over-friendly kinds have always been my favourites but at times the same can turn out to be your cause of frustration esp. in case if you are running short of time. But the fact is that they want to help you at any cost. Some find it a matter of great honour to offer directions - they treat it as their privilege. A few believe it as a failure in case they are not able to offer you the help. On the contrary, things might get worse if you encounter the egoistic kinds. They might find it insulting if you ask them for directions and sometimes would not hesitate to offer you some unwanted advices. No matter whomever you catch hold of for help, beware of the misleading kinds - cos' these are usually the most confident ones.

One of the talkative kinds who offered us help on the roads of Cochin and to whom my chauffeur asked directions was the ultimate one. A memorable one because he was the longest one so far and spoke repetitively for around twenty minutes. Needless to say, he turned out to be one of the misleading kinds.

It Hurts...

2009-05-09T15:34:00.005+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

It is the strongest feeling of all the known ones. It's not a mere feeling... but a way of life - for the lucky few who have encountered it. It starts like a cocoon and grows like a caterpillar - needs its own time to blossom and shower its gleeful colors upon you. Needs time to mature and get stronger - day by day! It has a heart of its own. Though it's a feeling by itself, it has feelings of it own. It weeps when you pinch, laughs when you tingle. You may loose it if you neglect. It needs to be nurtured - constantly and continually.

No money can buy it and it cannot be sold. You can hardly find it if you search it. But, it might come to you if you just let it free.

It's not as easy as the world thinks; hence many have lost it, some still seeking it, some have found it - yet trying to understand it, some have understood it and have realized their souls.

Love hurts when you don't care for it. Blessed are those who are embraced by it.

Born with nothing, Die with everything

2009-05-06T15:42:00.007+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

The biggest parody of life lies in the fact that things come to you when you are no more interested in getting them, do not need them or sometimes even used to live without them. You wake up with a dream and find ways to realize them, you choose one of the feasible paths, setup milestones and start walking towards the long way leaving behind several crossroads, valleys of obstacles and mountains of pessimism; looking at each milestone you had left behind with contentment. That indeed illustrates your sense of accomplishment. Then you feel weary and go to sleep. The next day you open your eyes, you already behold another dream. You build up new targets, re-setup a new set of milestones and resume the marathon walk, the walk of life. We all do it and shall continue to do it for a notion of accomplishment, sense of ownership and possession. I do it too, most of the times by will, sometimes even compelled and at times without even a reason.

But do we really possess what we say we own - is the question I asked myself when I met Mr. Sahani. I was lying on a bed way back in November 2007 at the Sagar Apollo Hospital in Bangalore trying to recuperate my ACL injury and he was sharing my room on another bed. Barely in his early fifties, Mr. Sahani had survived three heart-attacks and here he was beside me after beating the latest one, waiting for his open-heart surgery the very next day. It was the day when one of the Ambani brothers gifted a Rs. 242 crore jet to his wife and I was reading this news for my elderly room-mate attempting to keep him entertained. I read the whole news for him aloud and noticed him smile.

"I don't feel anything for money, nor such worldly pleasures", he said giving me a divine look "It's just that I want to spend as much time as permitted with my family".

He kept on speaking that day; he spoke about his accomplishments, his son, elder daughter and how he fought for everything he had achieved. His face looked as innocent as a new-born, devoid of desires or aspirations. I was not in a position good enough to figure out what should be expected out of a person who had cheated death not just once or twice but thrice.

They said, Mr. Sahani was shifted to another ward after his surgery but later learnt from the Nanny that he was out of this world.

The incident didn't fail to shake me. Certainly, it could have moved almost anyone. But this was short lived - the tremors of which faded with the passage of time. I gave it a thought but the outcome was nothing. I started walking again, started setting up dreams and building up milestones - all for the notions and caprices that made my each day happy. Every day, every moment brings me a new whim along that makes me work for my possessions or may be obsessions? I do not know!

Is it that a dying man could explain it better? I do not know this either.

The Doom Age

2009-04-28T17:25:00.006+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Pune, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

Lot of things have been changed in my life since my last post. If not the way I smile, I walk, talk and breathe but the way I think has definitely been experiencing a new bent. Is it because of the gloomy market conditions that has resulted into insecurity and persistent fear in the minds of the people? May be not or may be upto a certain extent; No! - In fact, to a great extent, I believe or probably not or possibly yes! Well well well - that's how things are turning out these days - so unpredictable and confusing. So am I!

Is this an onset of another boom or a continued everlasting doom? Things were just fine until last year, an year - probably now seems to be a long time. Long time especially when I see things changing course every month, every day, every moment. Organizations shutting down their doors, cost cuts, hiring freeze, layoffs! Yes it's a doom, just read from the other side and you'll realize how it is linked to your mood. All I see these days are the fearful faces around, sitting beside me, drowned into the thoughts of future; worried, pondering, depressed. My friend was fired from his job, he's broke, desperately attending interviews, spending all day long in queues. That makes me worried, he is my friend, an old friend, it is him but what makes me worried is that it could be me, if not today, may be... Wish I could help him. By the way, why should I think about the rest, when I am equally depressed. Yes I feel I am!

I feel sleepy as my eyelids shut for a while.

Then I am lost in my thoughts, think of my dreams, think of all that I have, have achieved so far. I re-assess my strengths, think of the tough situations I had dealt with. Things were never easy yet they were done - in fact, well done. I still have a dream that I see beyond all gloom - its just that it is way beyond them and I need to overcome a few things to get it - the fear. I had realized such dreams yesterday then why do I need to fear them today? Things are still the same - definitely and they would be the same the day after. Things might get wrong because there is always a good chance - its not because they are meant to go wrong. The fact is that they can always go right and the only chance to have it done that way merely rests upon me.

I see no point in ruining my morrow over the unpredictablities of tomorrow.

Derelict Opeth!

2008-07-12T09:11:00.009+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde

Bangalore, India

http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

Well well well! Let me explain this. It was only until last week that I was hooked up with Watershed, I felt like having more and more and more of Opeth. Until then they were derelict from my sight if not due to lack of opportunity but rather ignorance or may be prejudices.

Dynamically shifts in the music, unexpected twists in the sequences and riffs is something that I had never ever expected from a death metal band. Expected - not at the negative end but this is surprisingly pleasant to have. I love their progression in Porcelain Heart and ofcourse Derelict Herds - that seems to be on the sad note.

Clear Vocals is another feature that adds a feather in their hat and again that something I love to get from a death metal band. And that's why I classify Opeth in a different class from Deicide and Morbid angel.

Now I am hooked up to their 2001 release - Blackwater Park. I hate to evaluate their work in such a reverse direction but it doesn't matter a damn when I get to listen to their variations and more variations in almost every track I come accross. Let me go ahead and evaluate their discography and I would decide whether to increment their fan-list counter or not.

I'm also hooked up to ever inspiring Pearl Jam these days. Nonetheless, Slipknot, Biohazard and Airbourne are next.

Bachelor yet not single

2008-05-19T17:11:00.013+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Bangalore, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

Fifteen minutes past Eight in the evening and we still had some forty five minutes for our train. Our wait began as we sat on the bench on the railway platform. There were a few people around waiting for the next train and we felt lucky enough to catch hold of an empty seat. The memories of the day were enchanting us. Probably, this would have been the best day of my life.

We left a sigh of relief as this soothed our weary legs. It wasn't that unusual to expect a mild rush in a local train heading towards Mumbai on a lovely Saturday evening at this part of the time. But what really haunted me was that if the train was gonna arrive in time. The toughest part would have been if this one gets cancelled. And we really had no clues of when the next train was about to arrive.

The crowd on the railway platform gradually started increasing as the minute hand of my watch headed towards twelve. I looked at her anxiously as she gave me a soothing smile. It was exhilarating to see her smiling after a scary, long walk in the midst of the dark night on the lonely streets that headed us towards the railway station. I was feeling the warmth of the faith she was bestowing in me. Apparently, she held my hand and her eyes did all the talking.

The train arrived in time and we squeezed ourselves into one of the general compartments. It was sparingly crowded but we managed to get a window seat - something for which the whole of the city longs for for most part of the week. Nevermind, thats a matter of luck. We were surrounded by a few stares from the male crowd as she peacefully rested her head on my right shoulder. This being a general compartment, it was mostly populated by male commuters with hardly a couple of females seated next to us.

I looked outside the window and it gave me a mysterious view of the night. It was pitch dark with some far off lights glittering like small yet precious diamonds. I moved my eyes towards her, she was sleeping peacefully. Her face still had a sparkling smile - smile that was filled with trust and love. Hardly bothered of the worldly issues and worries. She knew she was resting on a shoulder that is strong enough to support her, protect her and care - for the rest of her life! That's the beginning of a new relationship!

Obvious is not obvious!

2008-02-21T18:37:00.004+05:30

This is not my write-up, but I wish to include this in my blog. The writer seems to be anonymous but I am sure he thinks the way I would ever think! A very good moral.

The train has started moving. It is packed with people of all ages, mostly with the working men and women and young college guys and gals. Near the window, seated a old man with his 30 year old son. As the train moves by, the son is overwhelmed with joy as he was thrilled with the scenery outside..

" See dad, the scenery of green trees moving away is very beautiful"

This behavior from a thirty year old son made the other people feel strange about him. Every one started murmuring something or other about this son."This guy seems to be a crack.." newly married Anup whispered to his wife.

Suddenly it started raining... Rain drops fell on the travelers through the opened window. The Thirty year old son , filled with joy " see dad, how beautiful the rain is .."

Anup's wife got irritated with the rain drops spoiling her new suit.

Anup ," cant you see its raining, you old man, if ur son is not feeling well get him soon to a mental asylum..and don't disturb public henceforth"

The old man hesitated first and then in a low tone replied " we are on the way back from hospital, my son got discharged today morning , he was a blind by birth, last week only he got his vision, these rain and nature are new to his eyes.. Please forgive us for the inconvenience caused..."

The things we see may be right from our perspective until we know the truth. But when we know the truth our reaction to that will hurt even us. So try to understand the problem better before taking a harsh action.

She...

2007-12-17T01:37:00.001+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde
Bangalore, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

It started drizzling when I came out of my office one lovely evening last month. The rains, here in Bangalore can never be predicted just as the city traffic. For me the city is not less than a hill-station where it can rain at almost any part of the year. The most interesting part of the Bangalore rains is that it could splash your favourite ironed office dress in a minute and could vanish away the very next minute. Needless to feel surprised if you find the roads all dried-off within no time. But just then what makes the things worse is the city traffic.

I kept on walking hoping to board an auto before the downpour starts. I rushed hastily and reached the main road when I found myself caught in the heavy downpour. What am I carrying? I thought as I checked the pockets of my trousers. I had a look around as I covered my cell phone with my palm over my right pocket. I could gradually feel the wetness inside my clothes as I stood there helpless waiting to cross the road. I started making several futile attempts to cover my head with my left hand. It was just then when I saw her staring at me.

She was dressed in perfect professional attire with a big laptop bag hung up on her left arm. Moderately long hair and a high heeled footwear. But for me what was more important was that she had an umbrella.

I watched her as her stare gradually morphed into a delightful smile.

“Come inside!”, she said as I was about to move my eyes away from her.

That indeed was unexpected invite. I noticed the slow moving traffic that still restricted the people on this side of the road to cross towards the other. It is usual to wait for 5-10 minutes to cross the road in Bangalore. Sometimes, a few lucky ones manage to perform this feat in a couple of minutes less too. But that’s sheer luck and sometimes it involves high risks too.

“Umm… No, actually it’s alright!”, I responded as I realized the size of her umbrella that no way could have protected two people within its diameter.

“It’s not a problem. You can come inside”, she insisted and I had to surrender.

I found it difficult to stand inside with her holding the umbrella. But I really felt like appreciating her attempt to share the umbrella equally among us both.

“Shall I hold it? That should be more comfortable!”, I asked.

“Ya! No problem”, she said and she handed the umbrella to me.

A couple of questions more and that made me learn that we had the same destinations, meaning we wanted to cross the road.

We stood still crouching our bodies in an attempt to shrink it within the umbrella. Our eyes started glaring at the right waiting to find a gangway between the passing vehicles. And here we found it. We started moving hastily as I felt her hand on my right shoulder.

Nothing was heard then on except the blowing vehicles and the tapping of the rain. Soon we were half-way of our journey waiting for another gangway within the vehicles coming over from the left.

“Let’s go!”, I said as I found some space to sneak away behind an approaching truck.

I was half wet but I was not really bothered of it now. We had crossed the road and it was time for me to return the umbrella and bid adieu to her.

“Thanks a lot mam’!,” I said as I realized that her gesture deserved more than a mere thanks!

She smiled and she left; and I pushed myself inside an empty auto.

Some small yet good things do happen to all of us everyday. Their memories might not last in our minds for lifetime but they certainly make you feel good. Indeed!

To all those who plan to ask me about her after reading this post – well, I never saw her again!

The Best Perfume in the World!

2007-10-19T23:27:00.003+05:30

By Neeraj Shinde

Bangalore, India
http://shindeneeraj.blogspot.com/

It was the first time I was at the chemist's buying a perfume. Never in my worst nightmare I ever thought that I would be buying a perfume this way. He asked me for the name - cologne, musk, jasmine and the list went on and on. I had no experience in buying a perfume and neither was I aware of the numerous fragrances and the brands that sold them. A good perfume, for me was merely something that felt good to my nose. I would never have bought a perfume for myself in my life. But today, here I was wanting to buy something that I never ever wanted.

I gave him a blunt look, almost speechless. Within no time I saw a varied range of perfumes displayed before me.

"Try this Sir! It's the latest one from Gucci", the chemist said as he opened the nozzle of one of the bottles. His face was enlightened as he brought the bottle before my nose.

"I don't want it", I said in anguish. His face fell as he noticed my reaction to his small professional gesture. May be I need something else, he thought.

"No problem Sir! I can show you something better than this", he said trying to regain his enthusiasm. He kept the bottle aside and got some other perfume for me.

"This one's from Korea!", he said looking into my eyes. I looked at the bottle uninterestingly as he again brought the bottle before my nose.

"Will you stop that!", I said in a hoarse voice as if I never wanted to buy the thing he was showing to me. He kept the bottle aside as he learnt my disinterest in the stuff he was showing.

"What's your favourite? Please tell me what exactly you are looking for", said the gentleman.

I am so unsure of what I wanted, I thought.

"Gimme anything", I said trying to evade the situation. The chemist gave me a bizarre look unable to understand what I really wanted.

Almost any fragrance could hide the odour of a dead body, I thought as I could recollect the wrinkled face of grandma lying at home, lifeless. But I really didn't know of what exactly could have solved the purpose. Or probably I was so unsure of what I was really trying to hide behind the fragrance of the perfume I was about to buy. Did I really needed a perfume to hide the odour of grandma's lifeless body - the touch of which was at times my sole means of happiness, the fragrance of which was once the best perfume in the world.

I wondered if I could get a better perfume to hide her odour.

I was in no mood to explain the chemist why I needed a perfume. Instead I bought a bottle at random ignoring all his efforts of excellent salesmanship.

"No Problem Sir! But I feel that you could get a better one in almost the same price!", he said as I left the shop.

"Yes! But a dead body doesn't have preferences!", I replied as I saw the chemist understanding the context better.

Though I covered grandma's cadaver with an artificial perfume that day, but her odour still remains the best fragrance in the world even today.