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...

"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 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



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

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)

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.

A Scenic View Captured while travelling towards Mahabaleshwar from Panchgani (20 kms. from Mahabaleshwar)

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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