What is Truth?

In response to a question posted offline to me, “What is Truth or Satya?” let me humbly submit my definition or the view that I hold on the ‘Satya’.

Truth is the spiritual culmination of our intangible but omnipotent thought process and the actions defined by virtue of that thought process- that leads to an atmosphere or aura of peace or Shanti.

As long as our actions are undefined by a responsible thought process, we astray in the wild dark alleys- unknown and unfulfilling; once we are able to guide our actions by the flow of thoughts activated in the thinking centre, we find Truth. It is a concept that can only be felt or understood by those who are willing or capable of understanding. The vitality it offers to the one who attain it can be gauged from the fact- it dissipates fear- not the fear of the society or the family- but individual fear. It encourages life by instilling a sense of courage and pride and sincere optimism. Much alike the revolutionaries- the Bhagat Singhs, the Chandrasekhar Azads, the Kshudiram Boses, et al. They never had to shed the artificial unnatural layer called fear. But it is my firm belief that fear loses its relevance once you arrive at the zenith called Truth.

The Truth is like the morning sun under whose presence the dew drops forming a canopy on the flora lose their charm and act and quickly disappear to upheld the virtue of it. And we do pronounce Satyamev Jayate. Truth alone shall win.

Dreams of a young mind

And only the other day did I find out that there are scores of young minds trapped in the vagaries of life either through courtesy of situations or through non-introspection of personality and clamorous goals ahead. Either of the cobwebs succeeds in trapping and slowly exhausting the victim to imminent death.

Young and vibrant minds shall have a level playing field- with a freedom to explore and catapult their way onto the unknown methods. But these innocuous-looking receptions that the young receive at their grandiose workplaces for small morsels of code are in actuality the baits to make the world of trade survive and engineer mountains of profit to the capitalist (and voracious employers).  And slowly and silently the deaths of thoughts start taking their shape. The once young and energetic and effervescent youth stands lost in the world of trade, the path to continuation and riches awaits- showing immense opportunities in terms of materialistic wealth that would be accumulated and swept away in unworthy but savory means.

Is there a path to redemption that may be chosen to achieve what the youth once thought to pursue and enrich with creative and spiritualistic juices?

Definitely, there is. But it’s narrow and looks shabby for such a grand (wo)man to follow. The youth is received by a myriad of provocations- a one such ‘thought’ that has outlived its age and is barely surviving, pleads to (the youth) let it live further- once the youth chooses the grandiose path its life would come to a scorching end; the youth is lost among the choices to choose from. Does the path that looks a little liberated from materialism would hand any satisfaction, would it allow me to embrace my dreams, would it encourage me to follow my mind and heart in cohesion- these many trumpets were beating reaching a crescendo with whether this path would let me ‘be me’.

A greater hollow was to follow these when almost similar questions were posed by the other much travelled path albeit with solutions and they said that we would give you all the riches of the world to buy anything you want, to get all the happiness of the world with these and none will be able to escape your desires. And they re-emphasized that we would titillate your senses with pleasures that were, till ago, were un-gettable.

The youth was spoilt for choices. But this time the choice was made easier. The grandeur path was head bent on immersing the youth with all the unwanted and unthinkable pleasures one may ever desire. The youth was apologetic; he allowed exploitation of oneself. What life is without the real pleasure- a quaint serene flow of pious actions devoted to cultivate the highest virtues- truth and kindness, affection and peace.

And the youth led oneself to the shabby looking path leading to the kingdom of knowledge and love where matter of desire is never able to take any tangible shape. The youth returned to being I and was kept in the highest spirits by the pleading dream. 

Mother

Womanhood needs to be celebrated as often as we can. Pristine, pious, natural and effervescent. As children we’ve went through a peck of subjects- literature, science, civics and the dreaded mathematics (it still a mystery as to why there exists a pre-conceived bias towards this beautiful as beautiful a subject!!). Today’s children are carrying that legacy too and the futuristic projections speak of a similar order. We then hated certain subjects (in general literature) and wished if they could be done away with. I shudder in fear- what if it had happened in actuality- I may not be gifted to think all these actually! Yes, it is the thinking and analysis part- emotions, expressions and understanding that literature and language papers bequeath upon- it is undoubtedly their worthiest endowment. Yet they languish in the bins- in a comatose state of perpetual degradation. And yet we still find our way to metamorphose into ‘good beings’ on account of other characteristics and under the lustful eyes of this adulterated society where the pathos of women are regularly swept under the carpet- as if there is never going to be ‘a day’. How naïve!!

It is not that the coin doesn’t have another side- but, in general, woman has been objectified to an unassuming extent for practising criminals to lay their bare hands on and still do away with the laws available in the honourable Constitution. And we are all aware of a process called ‘growth’ as well as ‘spare the rod spoil the child’ theory, but still the society allows the rogue elements to grow and nurture within. The cases like Ruchika Girhotra, Aarushi, Jessica, etc. speak volumes (not to include the innumerable cases that go unrecorded and unnoticed) of biased criminality. Why? - Because woman has been crowned as fairer and weaker and tender sex. ‘Chivalric hypocrisy’ has infested our society and its roots are wrecking and jolting the established normative attitude and behavior of the people. In this context I present a few incidents that I observed in my day-to-day life.

1. We three friends were sitting in a popular eatery in Salt Lake in Kolkata and on an adjacent table was sitting an elderly lady (probably waiting for her children). She looked a little uncomfortable as her old visage suggested. Came her modern daughter-in-law with her baby child (less than a year old) and in a tone of cold-hearted callousness inquired if she was feeling comfortable and adding a weighty suggestion not to dwell too much on her problems!! The comforting words never healed as they were not supposed to; then arrived the son of the old lady with food plates and the nuclear family (except the old lady) buried themselves in a spree of photo taking and relishing the dishes. The old lady nonchalantly buried her pains in the moments of her son and his family. Or her family??

Questions:

• Are the Sunday Dinners in a restaurant more fulfilling and worthier than a Mother’s comfort?
• Where is the need to be ‘selective about happiness’?

Moral: A sagacious king takes good care of all his subjects without prejudice and allows his mind to work in conjunction with the heart. The daughter-in-law might have missed the opportunity to reflect qualities of a good king/queen and so did the son.

2. I was going to Uttarpara on a sunny rainy morning- from Shyambazar on the legendary Bus No. 3. This bus tests the patience of the most overzealous procrastinator’s mind. The slowest of the snails laugh at its slowness. I’ve heard them puking (when they are drunk) on the jokes at the expense of Bus No.3. It got oversubscribed at Dunlop and a young lady with a baby boarded it. None of us men made chivalrous gestures; a younger lady promptly offered her the seat. The excellently-laid roads were vibrating our bodies and poked at the baby’s slumber. May be something else as well. The Mother sensed the hunger and opened her bosoms- lull arrived- Mother scored over the nature’s shocking vibration; canopying the baby and herself with the side of her sari- the pallu; the prying eyes of the society shamelessly shattered in their defeat. The man opposite to her was looking down- now.    

Question: ‘Man with one-part libido and nine-part intelligence still loses battles against woman with one part intelligence and nine-part libido!’

(Quoting from a Sufi story as told to me by my friend Arjun).

Moral: Virtues in life are to be practiced by relevant actions and not mere words. Start offering the virtues and then live happily ever after.

3. On the same Sunday in the evening at City Centre in Salt Lake, Kolkata, I saw a lady with a baby resting its head on her Mother’s shoulders and the cries of the baby were promptly justified by thrusting a bottle of milk into her tiny mouth. The cries were punctuated and changed to gargles.

Question: Were those gargles suggestive of the baby’s contentment or symbolizing the hidden bubbles of refusal?

Moral:

• Breastfeeding is not a cultural degradation or an unfashionable statement. It is yet to be enlisted in the endangered practices of the modern era. Mother’s milk helps the child to defend against a serpentine list of attacks. Exercises will definitely help ‘to get back in shape’.

• Shopping may wait aunty, neither the milk, nor the baby!!

The three protagonists are the three ladies with a shared attribute that puts them all on a common platform- they care for the baby or the child in totality or non-reflecting totality (explicitly or implicitly). They care least about the different interpretations of the society. To them it is the child that matters. They brought the child and nurtured it in their womb bracing all the events during that period.

In retrospect- does the society reciprocated actions with any dignified poise? The child, at once, forgets the pains of the Mother when grows big enough to be classified as an adult. The society is sure not to mend or bend its lecherous ways. The society, however, may be successful in mending the ways of the new age mothers who would care the most only about the child, with the material options available to them. It’s the purity that is going to suffer, sadly. A vicious circle waits and smiles back at the society; the society narrowly missed the smile else it would have started working on the plans to re-design its thinking and action cap for a rosy and bright picture ahead. Wake up. Wake up…     

Remembering Truth

Gandhiji fought the hardest battle of his life when he pitched against casteism- an electoral grapevine tailor-made for the politicians of today’s India. He was visionary enough to realize the assimilation of all pillars of the society- to give them equal satisfaction- to put them on the same quarter- to hand them the realization that British were driven out by everyone’s collective effort and hence to lay claims on the freedom so-earned would not be the private privilege of a few.

Though the country got freedom, still remains to be seen if the rule of Animal Farm can be negated. It, rather, cultivates and blossoms uninterrupted- disparaging our idea of freedom. While in our daily lives, we are encountering the filthiest of the scams in every possible arena- be it natural resources, public offices, electromagnetic signals and spectrum, etc. - the head of our government pronounces with vehement opposition the lacunae in our thought process- decrying further about the non-existence of money plants as if we live in an utopian island, and stooping to the lowest levels in the defense of its soot-smeared coterie of shameless but brazen council of wise men. Even under these tough conditions, it is the commonest of the man who does not sacrifices ego and speak truth- hailing Gandhi in some or some other way.

While flipping through the pages of India’s Struggle for Independence- a common trait I found amongst the then nationalists or revolutionaries was ‘truth’ and its protection with all means. I’m not comparing these luminaries with those men. Non pareil. When Bhagat Singh and Batukeshwar Dutt decided to throw harmless smoke bombs in the Central Legislative Assembly against the Public Safety Bill and the Trades Disputes Bill that were to curtail the civil liberties of the citizens in general and workers in particular- they knew beforehand the consequences that were to follow and stuck to truth till death. Many other revered leaders and uncountable Hindustanis sacrificed themselves but never bartered Satya. Similar feat shall never be expected or even thought of. The dignity and grandeur with which they upheld the modesty of truth remains a prayer to the common man.

Long ago I heard a non-fictional story^* from my grandfather-like old man Dr. Krishna Bihari Mishra. The narrative was that an atheist of grand reputation came on a diplomatic mission to our country and while leaving said that he had started believing in God- a country with such bureaucracy and leaders, and diversity in all fields would not function a while without an active intervention (or participation) of a supreme power called God. May be he was indirectly referring to the common man’s sagacity and ideals- imbibed from those visionaries and revolutionaries- were not they God in the garb of man!!

                                                                                             
Jai Hind. Jai Bharat.

[N.B. *I don’t have documents to support the claim though. Truth is what I believe in.]

Another brick in the wall

Thakur Ramakrishna Paramhansa Dev simplified the code to earn a podium finish in the quest to reach the altars of unknown-yet among us- the omnipotent, the belief, the vie called God or Ishwar. He quoted, “Jato mat, tato path” that translates to an obvious but transcendental – ‘different opinions lead to the doors of the God, the ways may be different but all converge at the only option called God.’ Or to be put simply, a mathematical problem may be solved in a number of ways but the correct answer would be only one, and a probable probability would be that all the different but correct solutions lead to that answer only.

Applying or in that parlance of object oriented programming ‘extending’ the same concept to other fields of thought would reverberate similarly. How does a rational being react when served by a ‘child labor’ (this term’s exclusive usage rights lie with the developing or the under developing countries!!)? We all react in ways that may differ by the width of a hair- the commonality being we wish the child a better future or the same message works latently in our opinions or agenda.

Last Sunday, my friend Sohail and I were coming from Narayanpur (a place near Rajarhat, Kolkata) and decided to go for some Chinese; ‘Indian-Chinese’ of course- near Koikhali (a place near Airport, Kolkata). A paneer roll and an egg chowmin we placed as ‘requests’ and invariably a child (aged about 7-8 years) attended to these requests and then sat next to me. Out of sheer curiosity and courtesy I engaged him in a smaller conversation for a minute that is detailed below:

I:        What is your name?

Child:  Monirul Manna.

I:        Do you go to school?

Child:  I used to go to a madarsha till recently (pauses). But now I work here.

I:        Why?

Child:  In the madarsha they used to beat (showing his palms and knees that bore fresh bruises) severely if the lessons are not memorized as per the instructions. (At once The Selfish Giant by Mr. Ruskin Bond came briskly to my mind).

I:        How long would you work here?

(He is lost in the question and I eagerly awaited his reply. His face blanks afterwards and I got the reply.)

I:        Do you know the people who work here?

Child: (Pointing to one of the fellows) He is Chorrda (the youngest amongst the elder brothers in a Bengali family). He brought me here.

I:        Do they give you food?

Child:  They cook rice, vegetables, etc. (as surviving on Indian- Chinese would be a fatal act in the long run) and at times fish as well.

I:        Do they give you money?

(He chooses to filter the questions like a mature politician and his silence answers promptly.)

I:        Where are your parents?

Child: (He looked more than happy on being reminisced about them) they stay near Ghatakpukur (a place on the outskirts of Kolkata famous for fresh vegetables, but is a little filthy as well!!)

His Chorrda probably called him out and he ran away to listen to the instructions with rapt attention.

The objective answers or the stark face of the child brings to the front the demonic nature of the society that we’re dwelling in. Of course, it depends on which side of the fence we’re sitting (or standing!!)

Corporal punishment has been banished long ago yet its patrons are belittling its end. Government can only bring laws but it’s the responsibility of the citizens to abide by it (though all laws are not sane enough to be categorized as tolerable e.g. 124A). A certain theory that works wonders at one place may fair miserably elsewhere; theories are not mere medicines to resolve adverse situations- the attributes guiding their success vary extensively and it is their flexibility that suggests the efficacy and longevity of the proposed theory. We must not mock ourselves by treading off the beaten track to prove our point. 

‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’ is a no-taker and falls flat in its face. Is there a substitute to Love? I find none. What do we do when our planted sapling emanates dying signals? Don’t we initiate caring and tender measures to prolong its due ‘life’!!

We, human beings are benign and kind by nature- but some of our traits are quite submissive; we forget about our kindness- dominating traits follow and reflect through cruelty, hatred and other animalistic behaviors.

Action: We need ‘to work with’ the submissive traits- nucleate them- and make a career in them. And cruelty and its brethren gang must be given a ‘proper burial’.

[P.S.:  How does the Right to Education Act rehabilitates fellows like Monirul and his peers??  Simply mandating the schools to accommodate them would in all probability lead to a loss of whatsoever livelihood and the bread that they get. It is a choice between hunger and future. The individual decisions, though, would be heavily skewed towards the former!! And when the concerns are the lives of lakhs of children, it needs more than laws’ enactment- the need is the real action- sans reel magnanimous boasting and sledging on the television channels. (We) Join NGOs and other such organizations to pave a livable future for the marginalized generations- if it fills you with a sense of relief, happiness and satisfaction. Else the world is a big space to find the mind space elsewhere].

Various ends

The angst and pang of being transferred in six months to a different section has a big bearing mentally. Now I am in some position and command to empathize with the fellow transferees. It can be understood to a certain extent as to why the political bigwigs always converge on the ‘transfer manual’ when they see no light at the end of their tunnels against the meager public servants- they may be either police personnel, officials of some ministries, et al.

But why ‘transfers’ always smell of dubious colors? Investigating a little further would unearth the normal human behavior of being in a shell- comfort and ease has to be traded with other entities- opportunities, change and chance. More often than not, transfers in the government sector are an annual exercise and are always expected to wreck havoc in a settled lifestyle of an employee. We are expected to work in our workplaces for close to three decades at the least, assuming entry levels near late thirties- that may well shoot to four decades in exceptional cases. Here job- hopping or job-shopping may be a neglected utopian process leading to futile outcomes.

Coming to enhancing the efficiency of an organization based on individual efforts, we would be shocked to discover that it is imperative only for those souls who can work their skins out; while a complete unknown territory for those who switch to hideouts to save their skins. Why the society always desires the efficient ones to work with an egalitarian approach? Why shall the benefits of those souls percolate to those who are inefficient and ugly to play their life’s strings?

We are all born equal (from the Mother) and yet in the Indian context it doesn’t find relevance. As per the Fundamental Rights conferred upon (us) by the Constitution, one reads “Right to equality, including equality before law, prohibition of discrimination on grounds of religion, race, caste, sex or place of birth, and equality of opportunity in matters of employment, …” but in the cobwebs of amendments and (ill) politics it loses its sheen and relegated to the irons of reservation, it leads to widespread discontent and disharmony among various sections of the society. It sounds naïve to tag this as a society where the Fundamental Rights are violated as often as we blink. What is equality where the fruits of one’s labor end up with those who don’t flicker as least-working even in the wildest of the dreams? While our institutions of the greatest virtue term the coaching institutes of serving a populace of spoon-feeders leading to inefficient brains in their temples, the same sane virtuous ideology is handed a testing time and quoted in a different light altogether while providing sustainable living to all generations by-passing the Constitutional rights.

Dr.Babasaheb Bhimrao Ambedkar was a visionary and he sought to fill the wedge that so-existed then. He failed but the cunning political lions grabbed it with both hands and this is still being used to corner out their share in the democracy called ‘India’. Finally, he bowed and took solace in Buddhism (his last book remained unpublished until few years ago). Now a new menace is lurking- reservations in promotion; the brains that devise these must be so original and inventing, yet they are neither egalitarian nor social; they are deceptive and the culture so-promoted would wither and annihilate the social fabric in the long run. The snippets we are seeing in Assam and other such pockets amply reflect the outcomes and no political party tried to burn their hands meddling in this troubled waters. The instigation, the exodus, the killings, the pathos, the anger, the fear – lurking in the environment are pollutants to be carried to coming generations much like those from Kashmir, Gujarat, Bombay, etc. In the end it turns out that it is not the politicians but common man of Mr. Laxman who repents, suffers and consoles.

It’s time we realize our duties and responsibilities and fight the politicians of all hues and nature. Jai Bharat….

Perceptions

Perceptions, in the most general cases, are the interpolated nets of thoughts dependent on the state of the surrounding and oneself. If an analogy is drawn from the frequency domain transformations, it would turn out that this signal from the neurons termed as perceptions  is actually a variable band pass filter.


As in the case of this filter, a selected band of high frequencies is allowed to pass and that reflects at the output. Similar is the case here- we tend to be in the state (physical one obviously) that corresponds to a particular set of thoughts at that instant of time or time in the past due to which our interpretation of events presently tends to change. And this change is the very reason for it to be termed as variable band pass filter. It could well have been defined as variable band stop, or band reject or low pass filter. Then what may be the reason that band pass was allowed an upper hand? Well.....it is again my perception that the word 'pass' creates a sense of positiveness while the others subscribe to some extent (if not wholly!) anti-positiveness. More thoughts on the usage of the word 'high'- human brain is empowered and prized enough as the best processor with its speed of thoughts unheard or unexplored of in the world of gizmos. So any linkages with low pass (low frequency but pass) would certainly dent the image of our mighty brain.


If the environment is against someone, she may tend to perceive that even the closest of her aides, the confidants are on the other side of the army. This perception has the bigger chances to stand in her mind w.r.t. the others; the situation would really be different if the environment is clear, helping and conducive for support- this very negative thought would then have the smaller of the chances to occur in her mind. So the conclusion that may be drawn is that perception is the product of environmental situation and one's position with respect to that situation. The product is healthy and prospering; only  if all is positive. But eyes shall be wide open to assess environmental challenges, changes, camouflages specially when we are on the healthy side but the environment is not.




Written on 24.07.2010

Bharat Baazaar

The days in the Indian Political Market are buzzing with comments of intense absurdity and miniscule billings. Attaching any importance to quotes of ministers or spokespersons would be like walking on the waters, hot water indeed. Aam junta weighs all the politicians on the same scale and hardly a difference exists between two such personalities except the parties to which they owe their allegiance (or loyalty, which is much in vague) in the political arena. Much malice and mud slinging is the order of the day.

Very recently (24th May 2012), our then Environment minister, Mr. Jairam Ramesh (alumnus, IIT Bombay, Chemical Engg, 1975 batch) usurped vehemently that IITs and IIMs are not world class institutions but rather the students getting admitted (or the ones who are passing out of it!!) into it are. This raised a furore and a flurry of ugly scenes on the television channels with defending and rival advocates out in the open to settle all scores- all by the functions of the mouth and none through actions (or statistics). Though statistics may sound bitter- and their veracity: at times questionable, but they do account and they cannot be outrightly rejected or tagged rubbish.

Tomorrow, the big HAND of Congress- the sankatmochan* - Mr. Pranab Mukherjee will file his nomination for the post of the President of this sovereign nation. He has been at the helm of a lot of scariest situations but none more acrimonious than this one. A sinecure post-  yet it has been able to arrest the momentum from equally competent topics like inflation, scams, etc. in a way as to make the others a mere laughing stock. Few questions that rake up my mostly unused brain are:

• Was clearing Mr. Mukherjee not going to hamper the election preparations of Congress in 2014?
• Why a seasoned leader (having seen 40 rains) would vouch for presidentship when his capabilities would be better utilized as a minister in yet another powerful portfolio.
• Is this to project the miserably insecure Mr.Gandhi as the candidate at the helm?
• Are the other factions in Congress more powerful than that of Pranab Babu and they have been successful in carrying out their procedure?
• Was it to alienate Ms. Mum Ta Banner Jee (who knows- if writing her name would bring me bad fortunes, enough to land me in jail or send some goons to my place, or so on!!) from Pranab Da who might have provided the economic stimulus package she was looking forward to. Was he this strong??
• How the name of an incumbent PM can be floated/tipped for the post of President? And that too by an ally who are just an anthill. They constitute a mere 4% votes in the Presidential election's say !! Their chauvinism has been rightly nipped in the bud. One like from me..
• How the equations turn amorous between bête noires (as they say that there are no permanent foes and friends in politics)? Hands are needed after all to balance the cycles!! 
• A number of scams- enough to make all the population lakhpatis** - suddenly breath life trapped under the debris of unenthusiastic breaking news.

A lot of similar other unnecessary, unwanted questions try to peep the world- outside the cool abode of my brain- but I don't find answers to satiate them the least.

Who has the answers??

* Sankatmochan : Refers to God Hanuman and roughly translates to one who relieves someone from problems (akin to Bruce Willis of Die Hard fame).
** lakhpatis : One who has 100,000 rupees.

Long Live The Girls

Being an Indian, lets begin with India. She is unfathomable to the extent that it requires a Sorcerer's ball to unfold the mysterious twists and turns it offers to the observers gasping in awe. Few countries (other than the sub continent ones) would vie for the most eclectic and eccentric practices followed with such gusto- least being imaginable- for the acts are inhumanely ghastly and grotesque in nature.


Who in the world would commit a murder of their own offspring- not once or twice but till its born with a stick to poke around.

Over the years this crime of selective de-pregnation has maimed the unborn voices of hundreds of thousands across this so-venerated a land of one of the most ancient civilizations. The inflated/deflated Governmental databases throw a sorry figure and it pinches more when they declare with camouflaged apathy: a falling ratio in the last two decades- does it sets the alarm bells ringing!!!! Well, if no- here comes a true conversational epoch that took place not very long ago.

There was a conversation between two friends regarding marriage- not a debate but on the highs and lows of  arranged marriage (a practised custom in India where marital bells jingle by the most active participation of the parents/relatives rather than the gentleman and the lady).  Points of discussion were:

• A lot of investigations must be made prior to in order to unearth hidden skeletons in the closet, if any, by both the sides.
• Understanding each other (including the ifs and buts) as well as the families.
• Lots of selections at hand to choose from (applicable to both sides). Here the ratio is skewed in an altogether different manner.
• Unnecessary expenses at every nodal point of progress.
• Finally, the biggest risk-ful adventure(mis-) of one's life (Still marriage is regarded as the union of social values; though the number of divorce cases are on the rise, somehow the adjustments and reconciliations play a much bigger role and the social fabric remains intact- a big joke where womanhood suffers on a daily basis in a cruel way).

One of the friends was a genuine stickler of brains, brawn(in sports), humility and more such qualities of desire. The other was a romantic of nature.  These two guys and a host of their other friends considered studies as the biggest challenge- though other challenges did exist in the form of sports, adda sessions (the state of West Bengal is popular for gossip sessions over tea, biscuits and other such local delicacies), friendship (minus girls in most of the cases) and booze as well in some (lets agree on more) cases. While some of their other friends who diligently broke into the other part of the friendship (plus girls in most of the cases) did manage to hold the hands of the fairer sex and enjoyed a part of life which these poor fellows missed and would never be able to turn the time for a chance come whatever. The issues that pop their heads out could be summarized as:

1. Did they not manage to hold hands because of their (mis)adventurous lifestyle?
2. The custom of having a girlfriend(s) was still in its nascent stage!
3. There were few good-looking girls in their circle of reach/observation/expectancy!
4. There were not enough girls to cope up with the demand (it is purely a demand-supply mismatch statement and not a rhetoric at all, no need for the pro-woman groups to batter me for this statement!!).

Somehow, all the factors do manage to garner a swish of vote against their notions but primarily it's the paucity of girls ( good-looking is a vague concept that I reject uprightly: Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder- courtesy Mr.John Keats). Sins committed by our previous generations have yielded forms so thick and fast- where do our sins would take the coming generation (if any)???? 

We all- specially the government- are on the big watch out for tigers, trees and other such hotly contested extincting beings (or things- considering the way they are used!!) but we do care least about "if girls become extinct species"- ohh!!! my neurons would not support channelizing this thought process to others for the fear of fatal hormonal imbalance......

Let us make this country a one-for-all. For every boy there shall be a girl-  1:1.

Long live the girls.............

[N.B.: The brainy friend confessed that though studies are the biggest pushers in life, one should not neglect the godly creations- must admire it to the core when it is proper to do, as I put it in again time can't be brought back.

One of the characters is my dear friend Animesh.]

Wh..

Who else?
None!!

What next?
One!!

What more?
Love!!

What for?
Life!!

Sugar And Salt

Everything is simple if we reduce them to fundamentals. This apt quotation materializes only at the hands of those who allow simplicity to perch at their sills. We are all too complexed by the infringement of materialistic flavour deep into our lives. A speck of introspection would reveal where we introduced unwanted adulteration, yet we never allow ourselves to stabilise.


The basis of stability has been disoriented to an extent beyond redemption. It, while representing only the riches never accounts for happiness through the channels of satisfaction. The mind, thought and body work in tandem and it is only when they are in sync do we truly and fundamentally rise towards inner solace and attain virtue. We are in a phase of constant struggle to liberate ourselves, to manifest the truth that we are, to elevate and realise the soul inside us. But in an age of acute distraction and pleasure forging derivatives- we loyally misplace ourselves.

The most fundamental aspect is we must live to enjoy the beauty that life is. A repentance is the defeat, an act of destruction and betrayal and subjugated is our spent life. Its marginalized.


A small story would clear the fettered emotions. A close acquaintance of mine stays near Dumdum in Kolkata and I went to her apartment once - a bright and airy one- on the 3rd floor. The day was unbearably cruel from the discomfortability factors' perspective- hot, humid and silent- without a trace of air. Climbing three floors and if bestowed with no electricity would have been the last nail on the coffin. Luckily, the coffins were no where near that day. In the meantime came the cooking gas delivery man and promptly completed his assignment. Being humane, the lady of the apartment offered him a cold refreshing glass of rasna with ice cubes floating at the behest of Archimedes- definitely a good proposition considering the effort of the nature to corner its perpetrators. But the delivery man's sense of control over his senses puzzled me. He never for a moment seemed to be oversubscribed with joy for being offered- he requested just plain water with a spoonful of sugar and a pinch of salt- and politely turned down the lucrative.

Many a inferences we can draw. To me its more like having knowledge of your desires and its interference with inner soul. Let us kindle our buried withins and pose a few thoughtful questions:

i) Do we need all the wealth we are channelizing (my friends! wealth is a man-made concoction that fizzles at the mere blink of nature)?


ii) Of what use is travelling throughout the world when we are yet to traverse within us!


iii) Where shall we head towards or allow our actions to roam about for stability?

Time Has A Story To Tell

The children of God were playing in the fields,
When they saw through he clouds-
The ever advancing human beings.

The earth was moving at a lowly pace.
The ages were lined up from stone to machine-made.
The geography was turning lakes into plains,
The plains invoked mountains onto their planes.
Oxygen was made aplenty for no cost at all,
Three-quarters water was not sufficient for all?
The remnants were ground for species to share,
Flora and fauna to accommodate with living sphere.

Men knew nothing but were satisfied.
Then came fire to break this ice.
No more individuals but there were groups,
The fight for survival began in the books.
The hunters and hunted were in close quarters,
Whoever got the chance cleared up the platter.
That was the first love for self and family,
Which is still sustaining but breaking else severely.

The quest began with wheels and carts,
Slowly the mighty oceans were conquered with elan.
The air didn't survive the Wrights when flights
Set the tone of human chime one note bright.
Discoveries and their owners unearthed the secret pillars,
Rockets were propelled seeking entry into lunars.
Even the Red Dwarf was not left to call its shots,
The surface was penetrated with Rovers of all sorts.

After all these milestones, is there any love lost?
Thought the children adoring the earth's bust.
Why one is fighting the battles all over,
When there is need to harvest harmony over another.
Men are pitched against own families,
But ask them the reason, they'll have no alleys!
Are their grey cells not enjoying the ride?
Is that a reason that they're paying the price.

The first differences were to seize the power,
Second in the queue were land and water.
Finally came money,- the root of all evils,
Drifting apart the society, unbridging the heals.
The classes came to speak of rich and poor,
Touchstones were forced onto humans as measures.
Texture and complexion came to identify fates,
Drugged were those to the ground with little shades.

Coffers were shining with hues of all beams,
Upon lay the claims of all living beings.
But all was cornered, not a single leftover,
Was there that could- bring ounce of happiness.!
It was an anomaly like the mounts and valleys,
Could that ever be climber- thought the kids!
Love is. It can't be eclipsed rather unceremoniously,
How to re-institute the fading glorious gallery?

When men were born, no religion came,
Now all the glitterati is bearing its name.
All is getting pieced to maintain its fame,
Did a religion ever uttered, the depth of this bane?
Bows, arrows, spears, guns and battleships,
Swearing by its call, rearing to raze hills.
But never was devised, to sway love around,
Mercenaries would have capitulated to their grounds.

Men eat all that is grown beside their hut.
Men pray almighty never seen among us.
Men give life to men with their blood.
Men built homes never asking who'll dwell those.
Then how did the words of a few spell the charm?
Men's thirst accentuated for blood with new arms.
Children were shocked discovering these buries!
Shall more men be produced to resolve these queries?

....To be continued

No Strings Attached

Few people except the residents and businessmen may be aware of a place on the landscape of West Bengal called Haldia. It is a serene (or shall I say was!!) beautiful city on the banks of river- Haldi and has provided enough fodder- being a port city- towards the growth of the biggest industries in and around it. Then came the sharks to tap the educational potential (that the place was supposed to offer; being away from the City Pent) and behold; an engineering institute came up by the name Haldia Institute of Technology.

Like a chain reaction- it propelled small but sufficient and family-like shops to mushroom around it; each specializing in tea, omelette, maggi (bhaja maggi v1.0), parothas, etc., the staple diet of engineers.

I had left my job in September 2009 and was preparing for GATE ( graduate level examination for admission into PG programmes) while staying at my professor Dr. P.R.Purkait's residence in the college campus. I was a student of the institute from 2003 to 2007.

There was one such shop that bobbled very recently and to my greatest surprise it was selling "litti"- a kind of spherical or circular flour cakes filled with fried gram flour along with a host of spices, ginger, garlic, etc. and cooked either deep fried or over heated charcoal. This litti has its ardent base in the states of Bihar and UP. It is usually served with "chutney" (made up of fresh coriander leaves grinded with a pounder against a stone slab) or "chokha" (made from roasted brinjal/ potato/ tomato- all mashed together with a tinge of mustard oil, green chillies and salt to taste.

Now my college- in the vicinity of Bengal and away from the pompous and grand Kolkata (by a margin of 120 kms.)- did have a substantial population from those northern neighbors- and accordingly business acumen prevailed over simplicity. It was a kind of daily affair to have litti-chokha-chutney in the evening and tea to complement and savour the spicy taste. Moreover the taste of the above delicacies tend to reach pinnacle if its monsoon and rain gods have their supplies uninterrupted on a plain lucky day.

Most of the shop owners employed children from the nearby villages or children from their extended families so as not to create dependencies. In that litti shop worked an effervescent and garrulous kid named Bhola-ageing around 7 years. Bhola is the name of Lord Shiva and it also means simple. And he was the center of attraction and we used to pull his leg on the least of pretexts. But he took these in the best of the spirits and amused us beyond anger, surprise; and a healthy dose of entertainment was lined up in the evenings. 

A recent study carried out by eminent scholars concluded that any two unknown persons in this world would be somehow connected by the seventh node i.e. one person would be related to another by a chain of other seven persons. On this note and out of curiosity and general inquisitiveness, I thought of knowing more about that little kid, so I placed a nugget, Who else is there in your family? And his stark reply swept me by surprise; more so as I never expected it to be so choking and full of a sense of lost childhood and brimming pathos (which that kid might not be fully aware of!!). 

And his reply to who else is there in his family was Aamar keu nai!! (Nobody is there in my family).

Written on 24th May 2011.

An Empty Bottle

The brain of a child grows at a rapid pace to process myriad information- keeping in mind the newer explorations encountered in day-to-day life. The pursuant nature of a child tries best to decode plethora of first -time knowledge, save the data and retrieve it later as an information. While all these management procedures keep churning tons of data, a silent mind is engaged so as to act such that appreciation follows from the near and dear ones- and this involves adventures of selfless values- for a little smile on the face of the parents, for a heartfelt hug from a brother, for a pound of love from a sister. These feelings cannot be harbored superficially- they have their origin in the tranquil unadulterated corners of the auspicious brain- called the heart. I don't see them as two entities- rather it's their jamming effort that leads to the event called thinking.

It was one such event that led triggered this story to see the light of the day. While four of us 'friends' were happily ambling over the road for an evening snacks, we discovered a girl- little enough not to carry heavy weight- carrying discarded items (or may throw-away items); a comb with protruding teeth like that of an old man, a slice of a mirror with sharp protruding edges like that of life- a little misjudgment and a deep cut worth lifetime of memory, some torn books like dreams of a poor- with pages but unordered and disconnected, a pen without a cap but with little fountain of ink left- enough to propel the dreams for a constructive travel ahead, a few caps of soft drinks bottles- like the courage to prevent the aerated soda to flip, a glass with meandering edges like the mountains and volleys- none can keep you at the bottom for a lifetime.

With much effort she was trying her best to keep the paraphernalia from falling from her gracious clutch. She may be around 4-5 years old, wearing a purplish frock that seemed to have outlived its expiry, multicolored sandals belonging to two different sets adorned her motherly little feet, a pair of eyes like that of an archaeologist set to unearth some heritage monument, ruffled hairs from where the setting sun was bidding a charismatic good-bye.

She was just unaware of anybody's presence around her and was walking with the slowest of strides lest her findings may once again have to be arranged and that might break this composure and the rhythm of this pleasant walk down the road. She was some hundred feet away from us when all of a sudden- she put down her valuables by the side of the road and picked up an empty bottle- looked  very closely from all sides and somehow her face gestured that it brought more of an accomplishment than the rest of her findings.

In the meantime we were about to pass by her and I could not resist myself from asking her, "What would you do with this?". And I just could hold back my tears to what she replied. "This is what my baba (father) drinks daily.". It was a empty bottle of rum.

A child who has hardly seen anything beyond her village and nearby was so satisfied on discovering an empty bottle that her father brings daily. It was a feeling that never knew how to distinct- a shudhha (pure) and satwik (virtuous) ātmā's (soul's) outbursts- this feeling moves and surges ahead with the fuel called care and love.

Written on 23rd May 2011.

The Guava Crow

Just behind my window is a very old guava tree- much more than my age of three cube. My first memory association with it- and even then it was bearing all-year round guavas. The canopy that it is above my home is an affable attraction for a variety of local birds, a family of squirrel and a murder of crows. And of-late a dumb crow.

The crows are not fond of guavas as far as my knowledge informs. The congregation is a shelter to these living creatures- a home from the sultry and scorching wave of summers.

The crow is physically challenged in our parlance. It is unable to speak like the other crows. Yet it has never let that doom to take precedence and unceremoniously glorify its life. Nor do the other crows have established rules to bog it down for its inability to express itself in their words. Interestingly, the other crows (identified only when they crow-crow) share an identifiable bonhomie and a sense of care and fraternal maturity towards the dumb crow. In fact, it is I who is distinguishing between them; they may not be aware of terminologies as such physically challenged, dumb, etc.They may be accepting it the other way round - 'that crow speaks seldom and in a different tone altogether. And that may be reason enough for their gatherings on the guava tree around the dumb crow at different times of the day.

While the other crows unanimously crow saying either kaanv-kaanv or kaa-kaa or a variety of other k-type expressions, the dumb crow specializes in uttering the smallest k's like k-k-k-k... At times I have seen them sharing their meals with this crow. But crows are reputed scavengers and this a statement hard to fathom!! Is it because they are non-human? Or is it because they are humane to some degree? Or is it because their books don't preach differentiation but integration? The crows are predators of minuscule nature and take great pride in social development.

On the other hand, we as the species of biggest evolutionary cycle are holing up our values, ethics and humanity for scalene means. In an oasis of complex developments on all grounds, men still owe a lot to the animals. With changing environment and biology, paucity and surplus- animals have adapted a lot and have kept the social fabric intact as well. Alas! we evolved the most but inculcated dreary and hollow ideals to quench the materialistic thirst - forgetting the purpose of sustainable life in the round marathon.

The crows still assimilate and share stories of courage and patience- after all they've the tacit listener in the guava crow for them.

Written on 24th May 2011.

Decoded...Not Yet

In today’s technologically progressive world, human feelings have been relegated to the brink of humiliation. Now the so-called social life breathes only in the virtual world of Facebooks, Twitters, Orkuts (my sincerest obituaries) and so on. Real people are nowadays found only in the cobwebs of virtual constituencies from where all the phases of fast-paced life are made public without the incursion of RTI on their lives. Quite shocking and disturbing, especially when we hear on a regular basis that defamation suits are filed more often than appreciating messages.

But the more intriguing question that lurks is- why are we cutting the real connections and unnecessarily procuring ourselves to others unasked for, while shunting the real fabric of attachment and letting it die a silent death- mocking it with a tinge of embarrassment.

Only the other day did I find that I turned a year older and some 70 odd Facebookers walled me on this monumental achievement; and believe me I was least impressed. I had no real connections with at least 60% of them, haven’t spoken with the rest 30% for almost 5 years, and the filtered ones numbering around 6-7 do share a bond of coupling- shall I pronounce strong enough and tested for tenacity over the span of time- but even a notable number of them preferred to limit themselves to walling me- an ode to Facebook on curbing the sensibilities of mind and heart- without it being imposed on them.

Agree that out of those 6-7, few might not be having the privilege of owning my exclusive ‘mobile number ‘- at least the remaining 2-3 must be free from that- and when I say least let us agree on ‘1’- who shall have all the reason to touch me by sound waves- even there Facebook lured away. What bait does it offer in turn? It must be their secret recipe behind this unassuming feat- changing the course of attachment with its magical chords.

Written on 23rd May 2011.