Ranting the rural mantra

All of us have heard about the herd mentality but if you want to see a live mentality you have to look at the Indian businesses.

A few years ago someone said ‘Retail’ and lo and behold ! Before you could blink an eyelid every company worth the name was trying to sell something or the other.Expatriates were summoned,consultants hired,large number of so called retail professionals were roped in and even larger number of stores were rolled out.

Just 3 years down the line you ask any CEO or manager who was till now going to chart a blazing path and they will tell you that they are cooling their heels by consolidating.The wait is for the ever elusive customer and the watch is strictly on the costs which are bleeding the other profitable group ventures.With every second retail “chain” going astray retail has suddenly become a abused four letter word.

I can hardly stop myself from getting amused when people talk about their business models,revenue streams and unique positioning.Feel like saying”oh yeah! I wonder why no other ass… ever thought about it.The problem is that the ideas are so great that they are beyond the customer .The poor guy who is just looking for some fresh veggies fails to register the traceability and sustainability aspects of the innovative supply chains.

This is how most of these SCM models are working :  

Farm> Farmer>agent>wholesaler>Retailer

You may ask whats the big deal.I would say its a million dollar question.The only perceivable difference is that you would earlier have seen all Subzi wallahs in the Monda market now you can find a few managers too.

Anyways , coming back to the herd mentality.The buzz word as of the moment is rural.Anybody who is anybody has a rural strategy and a expansion plan in place.The tier 2 and tier 3 towns which were considered god forsaken lands have suddenly transformed into fiefdoms of milk and honey.The poor farmer who was hanging himself for not being able to pay his debts is no less than the Sultan of Brunei today! Let alone wallet every manager worth his salt is ready to plunder the riches flowing in the hinterland through government schemes such as NREGA.After all the payment being made is in dollars yaar !

Hey what are you doing these days ?

Oh I am looking at the rural space.We are targeting Sec C and Sec D in Tier 4 towns.

Man ! you have gone really deep.

You bet.Our plans are even bigger.In the next wave we will cover the cattle too.

From Wall street to Wadala the rant is becoming louder – we will ,we will rob you…we will we will rob you….we will we will rob you.

Let us see how many come back beaten and bruised from this misadventure.

एक शेर नज़र है :

अभी कमसिन हैं ,नाज़ुक हैं अदाएं इनकी

उस पे मचले हैं कि हम खून ए ज़िगर देखेंगे

तो देखो भैया पर याद रख्नना कि ” बहुत कठिन है डगर पनघट की…..”

Sewa Ashram at Wardha

I had the opportunity of visiting Sevagram on the outskirts of Wardha during one of the “store visits” last week.I was not only impressed but inspired by the simple message which Mahatma Gandhi gave to all of us by way of his living.I was left with an impression that while a lot of other leaders just “talk” Gandhiji “did” and that is why there are and there will be no parallels to him in times to come.

To share a brief history,in 1933 Gandhiji donated his ashram at Sabarmati to Harijan Sevak Sangh and moved to a village named Shegaon near Wardha which he renamed as Sevagram or the “Village of service” at that time it had just 1000 residents and the lad for the ashram was donated by Seth Jamnalal Bajaj who a great disciple of Mahatma.

Gandhiji had chosen Wardha essentially because it was at the center of India.Initially he built a kuti or hut for himself and another one for Ba.Later on his secretary Mahadev Desai and other moved in.

The key take aways for me after the visit to the ashram were :

Alpaahar – eating less

We had ordered for a ‘thali’ at the cafeteria which serves home cooked organic food and as the food was tasty we asked for refills which we were denied.Later I learnt that Gandhiji believed that food has to be taken with a belief that it is a medicine which will help my body to get strength and fight diseases so it has to be taken in an amount which justifies this belief – hogging is just not allowed.

I tried o keep my “alpaahar vow” for a couple of days but could not keep up.The good news is that my habit of watching what I eat has got more resolve.

Simplicity-

Another aspect of the ashram that was striking was its simplicity.Today we live in a world that is full of sights and sounds.In fact if you look around you will find that most of us are afraid of being alone with themselves.We need someone or something constantly picking our senses whether its TV,radio,Ipod,cellphone,newspaper or something else.

We have just forgotten to relish our own company.Being by your own self is looked as a sign of going insane.

At the ashram There were none of the above distractions.Just a lot of good books to read and think about.

Dignity of labour

I had seen in the movie how Gandhiji has a fight with Ba and asks her  to leave the house if she was not ready to clean the toilet by herself.

At the ashram I learnt that each and every chore was performed by the inmates whether it was cooking or cleaning.Even during the free time they spun the yarn with the famous “wheel”.Even the day I visited I found several of the old disciples of Gandhiji silently spinning the wheel completely immersed in their own self and enjoying what they were doing.Just by looking at them I could see a still mind full of patience,completely at peace with itself.

Interesting bit – The name “Bapu” or father was given to Mahatma Gandhi by Mahadev Desai at Wardha ashram.Soon everyone started calling him the same.

Below are some pictures that would help you capture the experience :

Gandhiji’s reading place.That is where he wrote most of letters and books.

Adi Niwas – Gandhiji’s hut

In a recent interview when President Obama was asked that if he gets a chance to have lunch with one of the great personalities in history who would it be.Obama promptly said that “it would be Mahatma Gandhi for sure”.He added that no other leader has inspired him more or has managed to change the thought of mankind and influence it as much as Mahatma Gandhi.

I think he made the right choice.I would do the same….

The sky …

The road goes places

I go with it

The river flows

I flow with it

My mind is numb

words can’t take shape

and give meaning

to the void

they just

float in the air

Its a starry night

I shout at the sky

my words come back

unheard

Vast and silent

the nothingness stares back at me

Its  haunting

as my frustration mounts

Is there anybody out there ?

I am tired of living

waking up

going

coming

thinking

working

sharing

caring

trying

hoping

I wish I could take my self away

from me

look at it from outside

so it starts making sense

But for now

I am sure

Its not this……It can’t be.

The word love has a short story

इक लफ़्ज़े-मोहब्बत का अदना सा फ़साना है
सिमटे तो दिल-ए-आशिक़ फैले तो ज़माना है                                        

The word love has a short story

The Young heart of a lover grows up and pervades  the entire world

ये किस का तसव्वुर है ये किस का फ़साना है
जो अश्क है आँखों में तस्बीह का दाना है

Whose thought is it,whose story ?

The teardrop in my eye is as pure as a prayer bead

हम इश्क़ के मारों का इतना ही फ़साना है
रोने को नहीं कोई हँसने को ज़माना है

That’s the trouble with us Lovers

There is no one to empathize,but everyone to laugh at

वो और वफ़ा-दुश्मन मानेंगे न माना है
सब दिल की शरारत है आँखों का बहाना है

Fidelity in relationship,she will never agree to

for her its just a prank of the heart,an excuse of my wayward eyes

क्या हुस्न ने समझा है क्या इश्क़ ने जाना है
हम ख़ाक-नशीनों की ठोकर में ज़माना है

What do beauty and love know of us lovers

We bite the dust but the whole world lies at our feet

वो हुस्न-ओ-जमाल उन का ये इश्क़-ओ-शबाब अपना
जीने की तमन्ना है मरने का ज़माना है

Her beauty and grace,my love and passion

Its the time to live in ,its the time to die for

या वो थे ख़फ़ा हम से या हम थे ख़फ़ा उन से
कल उन का ज़माना था आज अपना ज़माना है

She is angry at me or I am angry with her

Sometimes it is her turn and sometimes its mine

अश्कों के तबस्सुम में आहों के तरन्नुम में
मासूम मोहब्बत का मासूम फ़साना है

The bloom of tears, the melody of sighs

That’s the simple story of an innocent love

आँखों में नमी सी है चुप-चुप से वो बैठे हैं
नाज़ुक सी निगाहों में नाज़ुक सा फ़साना है

Her eyes are moist, she sits lonely by herself

Those delicate eyes tell me a delicate story

है इश्क़-ए-जुनूँ-पेशा हाँ इश्क़-ए-जुनूँ-पेशा
आज एक सितमगर को हँस हँस के रुलाना है

My love is full of passion,I am a passionate lover

I will smile,I will jeer and I won’t stop till she starts crying

ये इश्क़ नहीं आसाँ इतना तो समझ लीजे
एक आग का दरिया है और डूब के जाना है

This love my dear friend is not an easy task

Its an ocean of fire and one has to swim across

आँसू तो बहुत से हैं आँखों में ‘जिगर’ लेकिन
बिंध जाये सो मोती है रह जाये सो दाना है

I have many many tears in my eyes O Jigar

Those considered are worthy,others just pebbles

And we shall be dangerous…

Defeat,my defeat my shinning sword and shield

In your eyes I have read

That to be enthroned is to be enslaved

And to be understood is to be leveled down

And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness

Defeat,my defeat my deathless courage

You and I shall laugh together with the storm

And together we shall dig graves

For all that dies in us

We shall stand in the Sun with a will

And we shall be dangerous

हार, मेरी हार

मेरी चमकती ढाल ,मेरी तलवार

तुम्हारी आँखों में मैंने पढ़ा है

कि विराजमान होना ,ग़ुलाम बनाया जाना है

समझा जाना ,बराबरी तक लाया जाना  है

और हाथ आ जाना, अपनी पूर्णता को पा लेना है

हार, मेरी हार

तुम हो मेरा चिरस्थायी साहस

तुम और मैं तूफानों में हँसेंगे

और हम मिल कर खोदेंगे कब्र

उसकी जो हम में मर जाता है

हम सूर्य के साथ खडे होंगे

एक इरादा लिये

और हां हम खतरनाक होंगे

- Khalil Gibran

हार, मेरी हार मेरी shinning तलवार और ढालतुम्हारी आँखों में मैंने पढ़ा है यह विराजमान होना ग़ुलाम बनाया जा सकता है नीचे levelled जाना और समझा जा सकता है और grasped होना है लेकिन परिपूर्णता एक है पहुँचने के लिए हार, मेरी हार मेरी चिरस्थायी साहस तुम और मैं साथ में तूफान के साथ हँसते करेगा और हम एक साथ कब्र खोदने करेगा सभी के लिए है कि हम में मर जाता है हम सूर्य के साथ खड़ा होगा एक जाएगा और हम खतरनाक होगा
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तुम्हारे साथ रहकर

लेखक: सर्वेश्वरदयाल सक्सेना

तुम्हारे साथ रहकर
अक्सर मुझे ऐसा महसूस हुआ है
कि दिशाएँ पास आ गयी हैं,
हर रास्ता छोटा हो गया है,
दुनिया सिमटकर
एक आँगन-सी बन गयी है
जो खचाखच भरा है,
कहीं भी एकान्त नहीं
न बाहर, न भीतर।

 हर चीज़ का आकार घट गया है,
पेड़ इतने छोटे हो गये हैं
कि मैं उनके शीश पर हाथ रख
आशीष दे सकता हूँ,
आकाश छाती से टकराता है,
मैं जब चाहूँ बादलों में मुँह छिपा सकता हूँ।

 तुम्हारे साथ रहकर
अक्सर मुझे महसूस हुआ है
कि हर बात का एक मतलब होता है,
यहाँ तक की घास के हिलने का भी,
हवा का खिड़की से आने का,
और धूप का दीवार पर
चढ़कर चले जाने का।

 तुम्हारे साथ रहकर
अक्सर मुझे लगा है
कि हम असमर्थताओं से नहीं
सम्भावनाओं से घिरे हैं,
हर दिवार में द्वार बन सकता है
और हर द्वार से पूरा का पूरा
पहाड़ गुज़र सकता है।

 शक्ति अगर सीमित है
तो हर चीज़ अशक्त भी है,
भुजाएँ अगर छोटी हैं,
तो सागर भी सिमटा हुआ है,
सामर्थ्य केवल इच्छा का दूसरा नाम है,
जीवन और मृत्यु के बीच जो भूमि है
वह नियति की नहीं मेरी है।

  

I imagine you,Silently

बन्द  शीशों के परे देख,दरीचों के उधर

सब्ज़ पेड़ॉं पे,घनी शाखों पे,फूलों पे वहां

कैसे चुपचाप बरसता है मुसलसल पानी

कितनी आवाज़ें हैं,ये लोग हैं, बातें हैं मगर

ज़ेहेन के पीछे किसी और ही सतह पे कहीं

जैसे चुपचाप बरसता है तस्सवुर तेरा

———————————————————–

Look beyond the closed panes,beyond the acloves

On the green trees,the branches and on the flowers

How silently it rains,ceaselessly

In the midst of all the noise,the people and so many voices

In the depth of my thoughts,at another level somewhere

I imagine you,Silently.

~author Gulzar

~interpretative translation by aahang

जब छोड़ चले लख्ननऊ नगरी

कहें हाल के हम पर क्या ग़ुज़्ररी

There is an attachment that each of us has to the places where we were born.Having spent our childhood in wonder running after butterflies and chasing rainbows,playing silly little games with our chums,eating and sleeping at will,getting scolded by almost everyone who got annoyed by our constant flow of energy.There is really no difference in the places and people whether now and then,only we have changed.When we were young everything around us was a posiibility,a dream,a hope,a mystery.As life took us through its myriad lanes of deciet,competition,money,power,lust,information,death,destruction what got killed in us was the simplicity of our heart,the innocence.That is one reason we keep coming back to the time and place where we had felt alive.

Another strong attachment is Family.Father,Mother,Siblings,Uncles,Aunts cousins.You have a sense of getting rooted,a sense of belonging,you don’t just exist here,you live.You make what this place is all about.The people around you are yours.They think,talk,walk,learn,fail,laugh like you.Their actions are similiar and their reactions same.You don’t belong to Lucknow,it belongs to you.You are a part of the landscape not an alien planted from outside .There is no possibility that you can find that level of identification,connect and concern anywhere else.

लखनऊ हम पर फिदा और हम फिदा ए लखनऊ,                 

क्या है ताक़त आसमां की ,हमसे छुड़ाए लखनऊ

You can take me out of Lucknow

But you can never take Lucknow out of me.

My love for poetry comes from the city I lived and loved in.When times were bad and friends were not around I found peace in books and poetry.Must be in my DNA as I instantly took to shaayari as it had always been a part of my being,for ages.Majaaz Lucknowi on whose book I have named this blog inspired me and I continue to discover new gems every now and then.I recently saw an old picture of him and found that my father used to look almost like him in his younger days.Both of them belong to a place near Barabanki.I am sure people used to dress that way in those times and looks were inspired by cinema but that’s how a colletive mind is born.A mind that cannot but think similiarly.As I travelled more and more I realized that how different we were from other people and how we got a feeling of calmness when I was amongst my own.In India everything starts and ends with religion whether you are a hindu or a muslim but in China many of the young people do not even have the concept of religion,even God.

जिन से हम छूट गए अब वो जहां कैसे हैं  

वो मक़ीं कैसे हैं शीशे के मकां कैसे हैं

ए सबा तू तो उधर से ही गुज़रती होगी

उस गली में मेरे पैरों के निशां कैसे हैं

Now I am asking for trouble but I will speak the truth nevertheless.The concept and idea of beauty changes from place to place but not really from time to time.I always found women from Lucknow more attractive not only because of their face and form but also their word and thought drew my mind more than the others.The nazaaqat , nafaasat,the values,ethos,whims and fancies belong only to the women born in this beautiful city.Once again enlarging the context you will seldom find westeners getting attracted to African women or Arabs getting attracted to chinese.I am not talking sex but actual relationships.It is very difficult to relate to someone who is very different from you.at least for lesser evolved minds like me.I am not John Lenon.

खुदा आबाद रखे लखनऊ फिर भी गनीमत है

कहीं न कहीं कोई अच्छी सूरत दिख ही जाती है

And lastly you have to come back where it all started

बहुत धूप थी ज़रा सी शाम कर लें

बहुत दौड़ॆ ज़रा आराम कर लें

खुद को खो कर इस शहर की खाक़ में

नए  फिर अपने जिस्म ओ जान कर लें

In our parts older women will put it something like this :

अऊते कैसे नाहीं , उनकी नाल हिएं गड़ी जऊन है

( He had to die where his umbilical chord lies buried)

Even Josh Malihabadi has said :

अब्र तक़ रहने ना देना तुम दक़न की खाक़ में

दफ्न करना अपने शायर को वतन की खाक़ में

(Literally translates don’t let me be there in deccan till eternity,bury your poet in the dust of his beloved land.)

Above lines were written by Josh Malihabadi when he was appointed in the royal court in Hyderabad and after almost a century I am writing about the same emotion living in Hyderabad.

So I just hope that one day when all is done and over I will get a chance to pass my days in the bylanes and bazaars of Lucknow enjoying a drink in the evening and a walk in the morning.

What is done with Love

Nietzsche Says :

What is done with love occurs beyond good and evil.

I have found the above not only true but contextual in defining many of our relationships and assignments.

No matter how silly or out of place does your portrait look,you just love it.Why?because your 5 year old has sketched it with Love.   

If you love to write you can keep doing it forever not bothered if anyone likes it or not.But if you are expected to make a presentation you feel like banging the laptop on someone’s head.

Good and evil are creation of our own mind.When we like something it is good when we do not it is evil – at least to the mind which forces the body to act.

There is tremendous change that we can bring to our  lives if we genuinely start loving everything and everyone around us.And if you critically examine there is no point in having a relationship in which there is no love or doing something which you do not feel like.The ultimate happiness will come when we are in an environment of our choosing doing what we love to do.We owe nothing to anyone else,but to us.

The situation may not allow you to take a hard choice but it is important to keep working on it.After all ,you have just one life to live.

Am I lovable ?

Why do we love someone else?What makes us do that?

While we constantly crib about the fact that no one loves me ,how much thought we give about why would someone do it.What is so special or what have I done to make me worthy of affection.

Let’s take a look at examples close by.                        

All of us love and adore children,Why ?

1.They are made by nature that way.Cute little faces,tiny hands and feet,speech that makes you smile and a smile that just melts your heart

2.They never lie.Say things as they are.You can trust them.

3.You feel strong and they look vulnerable – physically and emotionally.One feels like its their duty and God’s will to protect them

4.If they like you they like you from their heart.If they don’t they will make it obvious with reasons.If you can improve and change you can be their friend.

5.They never hold anything for a long time .One moment they will fight and the next moment they will be ready to play and laugh and run with you.

6.They know nothing about jealousy,greed,hatred,contempt.We call it innocence but isn’t it natural for us to feel that way.If you really look at it these are absolutely unnecessary appendages to our mind.

7.They are always ready to take help as they are always ready to offer it.

As we grow up we loose many of these simple yet powerful reasons so people can adore and like us.The worst part is that instead of consciously working on making ourselves child like we do just the opposite.In the name of growing up and being worldly wise we do everything that we do not want others to.And then we complain.

If you carefully observe a large part of the responsibility even power to make people love us lies with us.

1.We hate everyone around us and then wonder why it’s coming back.

2.Look at others with deceit and contempt.Lie at the drop of a hat.

3.Do not want to take help.Do not want to give it either

4.In marriage we treat our partner with disrespect.Hurt to the extent of being revengeful.Take each other for granted.

5.Hold our feelings as if it is the most important thing to die with a negative emotion or may be it helps you to live longer.Absolutely Wrong.

6.Ridicule,gossip and make fun to alleviate our own insecurity.

7.Blame others to hide our guilt.

8.Almost never use our heart.The tiny calculator keeps working non stop even if it is the closest of relationship.

I have two children and I have been observing their behavior with us,with their friends,with each other.What I have found is that whatever they do they do it with spontaneity,with a natural flow.They are so happy with themselves that you want to enter their world to forget what you have been doing to others or what others have been doing to you.

I have come to realize that it is a mechanism that nature has adopted to ensure growth of species since we can observe a similar behavior in almost all other life forms.If it was not so we would have competed with our own off springs.

Just as you need to be employable to be employed,you need to be lovable to be loved.

So next time you feel that you are getting a raw deal or why no one really loves you ask yourself a question – Am I lovable ?

I am working on it and it’s not that difficult.Trust me.

A million times ….

Says Majaz Lucknowi :

Humdum Yahi Hai, Rah-Guzaar-E-Yaar-Khush Khiraam
Guzre Hain Laakh Baar Isi Kahkashaan Se Hum

हमदम यही है ,राह- गुज़र – ए – यार खुश खिराम

गुज़रे हैं लाख बार इसी केह्कशां से हम

This slow pace,this path of bliss has been my companion

I have passed this galaxy a million times…

Says Marcus Aurelius  ;

Even if you are going to live three thousand more years,or ten times that,remember :you cannot loose another life than the one you’re living now,or live another one that you’re losing.

The longer amounts to the same as the shortest.

The present is the same for everyone;its loss is the same for everyone;and it should be clear that a brief instant is all that is lost.For you can’t lose either the past or the future,how could you lose what you don’t have ?

Remember two things :

1. that everything has always been the same,and keeps recurring,and it makes no difference whether you see the same things recur in a hundred years or two hundred,or in an infinite period;

2.that the longest lived and those who will die the soonest lose the same thing.The present is all that they can give up,since that is all they have and what you do not have you cannot loose.

क्या समझती हो कि तुमको भी भुला सकता हूँ मैं

अपने दिल को दोनों आलम से उठा सकता हूँ मैं
क्या समझती हो कि तुमको भी भुला सकता हूँ मैं             

You think I can’t let go of both worlds,I can

You think I can’t forget you ,I can

कौन तुमसे छीन सकता है मुझे क्या वहम है
खुद जुलेखा से भी तो दामन बचा सकता हूँ मैं

It’s your misgiving that you can lose me to her

I can myself be indifferent to that beauty,I can.

दिल मैं तुम पैदा करो पहले मेरी सी जुर्रतें
और फिर देखो कि तुमको क्या बना सकता हूँ मैं

Sow in yourself the same audacity I have

and I will make you someone else ,I can.

दफ़न कर सकता हूँ सीने में तुम्हारे राज़ को
और तुम चाहो तो अफसाना बना सकता हूँ मैं

I can bury your deepest secrets If I will

and I can make them a legend if you want,I can.

तुम समझती हो कि हैं परदे बहुत से दरमियाँ
मैं यह कहता हूँ कि हर पर्दा उठा सकता हूँ मैं

You think that there are lots of curtains that hide

I say I will lift each one of them if I wish,I can.

तुम कि बन सकती हो हर महफ़िल मैं फिरदौस-ए-नज़र
मुझ को यह दावा कि हर महफ़िल पे छा सकता हूँ मैं

Yes you may be the heavenly gaze in any gathering

But I challenge that I can be the life of any party,I can.

आओ मिल कर इन्किलाब ताज़ा पैदा करें
दहर पर इस तरह छा जाएं कि सब देखा करें

Let’s get together and start a a revolution afresh,

and be such that everyone looks at us and says Wow!

~ Majaz Lucknowi

~ interpretative translation By aahang

देखना जज़्बे-मुहब्बत का असर आज की रात

देखना जज़्बे-मुहब्बत का असर आज की रात

मेरे शाने पे है उस शोख़ का सर आज की रात

Behold the feeling of our love tonight

On my shoulders rests her beautiful face tonight

और क्या चाहिए अब ऐ दिले-मजरुह तुझे

उसने देखा तो ब-अन्दाज़े दिगर आज की रात

What else you need my lovelorn heart

She saw you with a twinkle in her eye tonight

नूर-ही-नूर है जिस सिम्त उठाऊँ आँखें

हुस्न-ही-हुस्न है, ताहद्दे-नज़र5 आज की रात

Where I look there is light and more light

As far as I see  there is beauty and more beauty tonight

मेरी हर सांस पे वो उनकी तव्वजह क्या खूब

मेरी हर बात पे वो जुम्बिशे सर आज की रात

She cared for my every breath,as if

She nodded on  every word I said tonight

अल्लाह-अल्लाह वह पेशानिए-सीमीं का जमाल

रह गई जम के सितारों की नज़र आज की रात

Allah Allah that shinning forehead

The stars almost  stopped blinking tonight

नग़्मा-ओ-मै का यह तूफ़ाने-तरब क्या कहिए!

घर मेरा बन गया ख़ैय्याम का घर आज की रात

This wonderful storm of music and intoxication

My house has become the house of Khayyam tonight

अपनी रफ़अ़त पै जो नाज़ाँ हैं तो नाज़ाँ ही रहें

कह दो अंजुम से10 कि देखें न इधर आज की रात

O stars if you are proud of your high place,please be

Just tell the skies not to look this way tonight

उनके अल्ताफ़ का इतना ही फ़सूँ काफ़ी है

कम है पहले से बहुत दर्दे-जिगर आज की रात

Her magical kindness has bestowed this upon me

There seems to be no pain in my heart tonight

नर्गिसे नाज़ पे वो नीदं का हल्का सा खुमार

वो मेरे नग्म ए शीरीं क असर आज की रात

Those sleepy eyes of  her flower face

That effect of my love song on her tonight

Poet ~ Majaaz Lucknowi

interpretative transaltion by aahang

मेरा भाई अनंत

एक बन्दर सा उछ्ला करता मेरा भाई अनंत                                         

उठ कर गिरता गिर कर उठता मेरा भाई अनंत

दिन भर मुझसे लडता रहता मेरा भाई अनंत

रात अकेले सोने से डरता मेरा भाई अनंत

पढना लिख्नना उसे ना भाता मेरा भाई अनंत

खाना खाने से कतराता मेर भाई अनंत                                                       

फिर भी मुझको लगता प्यारा मेरा भाई अनंत

सारे जग में सबसे न्यारा मेरा भाई अनंत

यह कविता अनन्या ने अपने भाई अनंत कुमार के लिये लिखी है.अगर आप को अछ्छी लगे तो उसे ज़रूर बताना. उसका फोन नम्बर है 9989040500.

The Business of Bakwaas

The business of news has become a business of Bakwaas.A case in point is the front page story carried by Business and economy published by Arindam Chaudhary.The front Page carried a daring and blatant Question – Can Shopper’s stop do it ? Can they pull out of the slow down to become India’s Wal Mart some day.

http://www.businessandeconomy.org/19032009/storyd.asp?sid=4154&pageno=1

To my mind one  cannot get more ridiculous than this.This is cheating !!!

I am in the retail business and I have worked for Wal Mart.I know Shopper’s Stop Model too.I have interacted with BS Nagesh when he came to deliver the closing lecture in my executive program at ISB on Retail Management.He will certainly agree with me if I say that the whole article was nothing but अनर्गल प्रलाप( Incoherent Lamentation) and the headline was just created to attract eyeballs and dupe gullible folks into buying the magazine.

If they would have said that can Shopper’s become the next Macy’s of India I would have understood even though there is still very little common ground but Wal Mart ??? To start with, there positioning,business model,scale of operations nothing is comparable. Shopper’s stop has always been a very niche player serving select clients in select locations as opposed to a mass merchandising everyday Low price retailer that Wal Mart is.I don’t even think that at any point Shoppers wanted to become the Wal Mart of India.Simply put they are as different as day and night as far as retailing business is concerned.The worst bit is that there is nothing about the headline in the body of the article apart from a brief history of Wal Mart which in no way justifies Shopper’s  Stop ambitions.

Media has become so desperate today that they will come up with anything to grab attention.They will say – Can Manmohan Singh marry Bipasha Basu? Come back to read more or may be watch the truth as the case may be and then the truth will be revealed – when we asked this Question to the prime minister he said have you gone nuts  and asked his guards to chase us out.In this way freedom of the press was shamed today.Some channels have become OSAMA/OBAMA channels and others rely on Snake and Ghost stories to keep their channel alive.Dekhiye ye Shaqs kis tarah se saapon ke saath na sirf  khaa raha hai balki unke saath so bhee raha Hai.Break ke baad hum aapko dikhayenge ki yeh saapon ke saath aur kya kya karta hai to hamare saath bane rahiye.And you start thinking – saala saapon ke saath sex wex to nahin karta ?

The word exclusive has been raped beyond recognition.Every beaten to death story is exclusive.You know why ? because no one else than those who made will  watch it or may be it is exclusive for morons and idiots.These program should have an M/I rating and should come with warning – mental discretion required.Not fit for those with active minds.

Then there are news anchors who act and dress like villians and Dev D’s.. Their emotional atyachaar,By God ! Arnab Goswami and Rajat Sharma are champions.In some of the debates it looks like they will start crying and howling and slap the participants.The best part is that these guys will not give a chance to the participants till they have made sure that whatever they got from the research team has been said.After all they have wasted so much time and paper on it.Its funny and frustrating at the same time.

http://karthik3685.wordpress.com/2007/11/27/contender-1-for-worst-indian-journalist-arnab-goswami/

The above link has got 410 comments  so you know what I mean !

Finally the ads seem to be sponsoring the news as well as the events being talked about.Just today Maneka Gandhi was saying something about her Pappu did’nt dance but an ad for Amity University kept appearing right on her face.It looked as if her Sari clad body has suddenly decided to replace her head with Amity University.

These days one should read at his own risk and watch TV only as a source of cheap comical entertainment.The message is simple – when we do not apply our brain while making the programs or writing silly articles why do you want to take the pain.

Thank God we still have the good old newspaper and writers like MJ Akbar , Vinod Mehta and Jug Suraiyya who are a delight to read.If you call the above Tamasha development of media and technology ,I feel I am better off with DD and All India radio.

Divorce is bad,Marriage is worse

Said Socrates :

By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you’ll be happy. If you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher.

Wonder why so many of us are blogging these days ?   

The great Greek philosopher had a mind and life of his own but if you look at most of the old couples they have an air of philosophy about them.They stare in the oblivion,look through passers by and to avoid conversation pretend to be hard of hearing especially when their beloved is speaking.This can be observed very frequently and closely if you are a member of one of the posh clubs in your city.If you are not I suggest you join morning yoga classes from Baba Ramdev.The one question on every couples mind : Baba agar aap inka kuch ilaaj bata dete to kalyan ho jata.And guess  what Baba Ramdev will say “Agar mujhe pata hota to shaadi na kar leta.Beta mere paas cancer ka ilaaj hai par is asahniya peeda ka nahin.Yeh to dama hai , ab dum ke saath hi jaayega“

Some of my friends pretend false love and argue especially if there wives are around that “Come on it’s not that bad”. I would say to them yes my dear  that’s because you have chosen to suffer in silence or speak when and what your master pleases.Try and speak your mind and you will be labeled as a barking bulldog,Go out for an evening with friends and you will be called a selfish swine who only thinks about his own entertainment all the time,don’t go for shopping and you are the biggest miser the world has ever known( just see my sisters hubby,looks like he was born in the bazaar),have a couple of drinks and everyone in the family and friends would know that you are a chronic alcoholic,talk to a female and you are Prem Chopra(lecherous villain of hindi movies in the 70’s) personified.If feeding a blood sucking monster is your idea of happy marriage I wish that you die in pure bliss.

No offense meant(read I mean every word of it) but the reverse is true almost all the time.Women too feel exactly the same way but they will seldom point it out and say it in the open.Instead they have invented television soaps for character assassination of men.Men will be shown indulging in every shameless act possible.If what I said in the above paragraph was a fantasy it will be brought to life in bandini,falaani dhimkaani ki saat betiyaan ( ek na ek par atyachaar to hota hi rahega matlab atyachaar ki koi kami nahin honi chahiye),souten,bandhan,suhaagan,balika vadhu,rahenewaali mehlon ki and some more silly stuff .You will invariably find female of the species attached to the idiot box at given times, all the time.Obviously these dastardly acts will be discussed at length with mommy dear who is more than happy to lend an ear and mouth an opinion – Beta sab aurat ko hi sehna padta hai,tumhare Papa koi kam nahin hain.Woh to mere jaisi thee jo nibha liya,tum bachchon ki khaatir (par aaj kal ke bachce ehsaan tak nahin maante).And the daughter will say “achcha Mummy main ab phone rakhtee hoon,yeh aane waale honge”.Kyun nahin jooton ki maaala se swaagat jo karna hai.

It may seem like a personal account but I have found through careful investigation,systematic fact finding and rigorous analysis that given the conditions it cannot be any different for any set of specimens engaged in this fatal fight for survival.The intensity of hate may vary and there could be momentary lapse of reason which may be interpreted as love but the outcome will be constant.The basic flaw is in the nature of the two sexes conjoined together by an act of baseless faith.You even get bored watching the sun set on an evening by the sea and these are human beings whose beauty is limited to the morning you watch them coming out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in their mouth and asking you ” arre suno zara paper dena”. “Kaun sa paper?” spitting the colgate froth she will say ” newspaper,can’ t you think straight?”

Let us answer the basic question : what does a man want ?

A man wants to be a vagabond chasing rainbows to the edge of the earth,who can come back to a place he can call  home

and what does a woman want :

The man should keep hopping around her in a tight circle and call it home and the edge of earth too.

This basic conflict in world view and attitude causes all the pain and then there are other issues like familiarity breeding contempt,nagging and more nagging,lust and  love,need and want,availability and desire,lies and sweet nothings,faith and freedom,frequency and performance,roses and rupiya, job security and bank balance,gold and lockers,death and insurance policies.

It is difficult to know when a marriage stops being a bond of love and becomes a binding contract, but what is dead sure is that you will never get out of it alive.

कभी किसी को मुकम्मल जहां नहीं मिलता

कहीं ज़मीं तो कहीं आसमा नहीं मिलता

जिसे भी देखिये वो अपने आप में गुम है

ज़ुबां मिली है मगर हमज़ुबां नहीं मिलता

तेरे जहान में ऐसा नहीं के प्यार न हो

जहां उम्मीद हो इसकी वहां नहीं मिलता

Blog as if it will never be seen

I was reading the book ‘Predictably irrational’ when it suddenly hit me.Why the hell do I bother about blog stats.To care about comments is fine but to think too much of cold numbers which may or may not have face to them is madness.

Let us have a peek into my irrational behaviour.Since morning I look at the blog stats twice and by afternoon I am worried that no one has even looked at my blog today.When I click the refresh button as if out of nowhere a number of views appear.This is the point when my blog was on Alphainventions reading cycle.Now out of these views there could be chinese,peruvian,saudi and russin bloggers who have no choice but to look at my blog since it is on thier computer screens.As some of the posts are in English they may even try jumping from one post to another to find something of interest but will certainly leave the blog,never to come back again.

Have you ever counted how many people you met in the market ?How many people looked at you while you were shopping?How many joggers passed by you while jogging in the park ?Or who else came to watch the movie  ?

It is irrational therefore to keep submitting your blog and Alpha inventions or Condron in the hope of getting more readership to increase page views.But we are predictable bloggers and will continue to do it again and again.One day we may get a 1000 page views and the other day we may get just 50.

That’s the way we are programed or wired I should say – to measure everything.Even our performance on blogs which are meant to take us away ‘from these things.If your blog not have adequate number of hits or commenst you start getting a feeling of being wasted and a secret voice says don’t do this.This explains the thousands of blogs with just a couple of posts.

You will find 100’s of posts and commenst about ‘How to increase blog traffic’  and how to use technology make your blog better and more attractive but very few which will give you tips on how to post exceptional or unique content .I even came across a personal blog that wanted to make money through adsense the very first month of coming into existance.It may have been an experiment but I found it quite interesting.

For now I have a promised to myself that I will not look at my blog stats for the next 1 month.

But promises are meant to be broken.Are’nt they

Poverty and Power in India

“Perpetuate Poverty,Stay in Power “ has become the success mantra for politicians in India.This is how congress has managed to rule us for a large part of our independant history and this is how most political parties are planning thier strategy for occupying seats at Raisina hill.

The latest to join the freebee brigade are Mulayam and Amar Singh who have completely lost it as far as I am concerned.They played a very good trick on 50 % brain dead Sanju Baba by nominating him as the Party’s candidate from Lucknow after consulting their friends in the Legal business that he will never get the permission to stand in elections because of his terror credentials.They promised Sanju that if he does not get the Green Sign his beloved and graceful wife Manyata will grace the Lucknow Parliamentary seat.Gullible as ever poor Munna fell in the trap.Samajwadi Party got tremendous air time in the media and Amar Singh practised his  back of the truck poetry to his heart’s fullfillment.Now Nafisa Ali is SP’s candidate and Manyata is away in Bahamas to pick up pieces of her shattered ambitions.Wake up Sanju…you are once again putting your foot in the mouth by saying that the police beat me as Nargis Dutt was a Muslim.You will go to Jail Finally and once and for all and no one will be there with you.Do what you do best – Hop,skip and make faces.You will be safe.

Anyway,Lets come to the main point.

In Ramayana Tulsidas says for Ravana :

Jaako Prabhu Daarun Dukh Dehi,Taaki Mati pehle har lehi.

Which translates to :

Whom God wills to be in Misery,he first takes away their intellect.

This is exactly the case with my native state of UP.By careful analysis of people’s mentality to forever remain beggars so they do not have to work Mulayam singh has come up with a novel scheme.He has promised that if at all he comes to power he will ban English and Computers.Wow ! isn’t that something ?? Full Marks to you Mr Ancient India.I sincerely feel that you should ban education.No maths is needed to slit people’s throats or to pull trigger of country made pistols.Ask your fellow partymen and they will confirm it.You don’t need to talk in English to loot folks at Gunpoint.I am not joking .With no education and employment that’s what Youth will do and is doing right now in UP.

http://http://news.in.msn.com/national/indiaelections2009/article.aspx?cp-documentid=2843801

If you just go to any of the cities in UP you will find house after house with old people whose sons and daughters have moved to other states or countries for employment.In fact it has become a creteria for being worthy.If you are still in UP there is something wrong with you.Crime and Politics are the only opportunities made available to the young people of this God forsaken state.The worst thing is that people have accepted their fate and are ready to live with whatever comes their way.

I read  on someones blog an interesting couplet that sums the mood :

Apna Kyaa? Phir wohi Chandan Phir Wohi Paani        

Kou nrip hoye hamein kaun haani ?

Translates to :

I have the same ordinary life regardless of who rules the kingdom

While other states are competing with each other to get big companies to set shop in their states Mayawati and Mulayam have managed to chase everyone away.Poor,illeterate and unemployed make a stable vote bank.They have no option but to keep coming to their masters for their daily bread so they remain alive and keep voting election after election.

I had watched a Movie Narasimha a few years back.Sunny Deol plays a bully who bashes and abuses everyone who dares oppose his master played by Om Puri.One day he goes to ransack the house of a poor woman and his mind changes.He has seen how Om Puri is using him.He confronts Om Puri on the issue of equality and injustice to which Om Puri lashes back ” Kaisi behaki behaki baatein kar raha hai ,Subah se pee nahin kya?” which means how the hell you are talking sense.Are you not drunk today?

The leaders in India are making sure that people are drunk with the wine of free electricity,reservation,loan waivers,illiteracy and backwardness so they cannot see right or wrong.Inaction,incompetence  and stupidity are largely distributed human traits that’s why you find only a few successfull people and hundreds who are just passing time on their way to the grave.For them half  a meal and sleep are the only two things which matter.Their only interest is to keep their bodies alive and every leader worth his namak harami salt is promising just that.

Written and spoken English with computer skills are a passport to freedom from poverty and dependance.They can guarentee a good life and freedom of choice not only to the one who has them but to all his future generations.They are therefore being seen as a threat by politicians like Mulayam Singh Yadav who represents all that is bad and ominous in God’s creation.

Time and again I have fiddled with the thought of going back and settling down in Lucknow but somehow I cannot come to terms with the thought of my illiterate children pointing guns at strangers on the highway.

May be I  am not as educated as Mr Yadav to understand his queer economic theories and that one life must be destroyed to sustain another.

One last Question – Does Mulayam’s son speak in English or know computers?

I am quoting the Hindustan Times of 13th April below :

Samajwadi Party chief Mulayam Singh Yadav does not practice what he preaches.

While the SP’s manifesto, released on Saturday, vowed to abolish expensive English medium schools, stop the use of English in administration and in courts, as well as to do away with computers wherever their function could be carried out manually, the party chief has sent both his sons to English language educational institutions and assisted the setting up of colleges and hospitals in his own village Safai, equipped with cutting edge computer technology.

Mulayam’s older son, Akhilesh Yadav, 36, MP from Kannauj, holds a degree in environmental engineering from an Australian university. His younger son Prateek, 22, after passing out from a leading Lucknow school, is studying management in Britain.

Akhilesh carries two Blackberries and is so comfortable with them that he can type on both simultaneously. He runs his campaign on both Facebook and Orkut.

You can’t escape Big Bazaar

The latest issue of Business world has the cover story on how Biyani is in a bad shape and it will take his company more than innovation to stay in business.

http://www.businessworld.in/index.php/Retail-FMCG/The-Burden-Of-Debt.html

The reason cited for the downfall was a high unserviceable debt in a recession scenario.As customers choose to stay away or downtrade(read buy at discounts)  profitability will be the first victim.Retailers will try to save face by at least showing some top line growth by either adding stores or increasing top line by giving exceptional value to customers through promotions,deals and offers.

Many analysts have already dubbed Pantaloon retail a Satyam in the making due to their refusal to be transparent and their deftness at creative accounting practices.In the cover story I am talking about Kishore Biyani refused to talk about any Financial details.I fail to understand what’s the big secret.If I have shares or a house that I have to sell to be in business that I built over the years,so be it.

Anyways,you can read all that in the magazine.This blog is to bring to you more sinister secrets of the corporate world.

Just think about the below scenario :

1.Where does your money go ?

a) You Spend it

b) You save it

c) You invest it

d) You give it away but that’s small one  so we will leave it

Let us take Pantaloon retail and you as a case.

No matter what you do you will be at a loss just as in Casinos.If you spend your money you will pay Pantaloon a hefty Margin – as much as 40-80% in case of Apparel.That’s twice what the product is worth !I am assuming that you still got value for your money which is not the case else Retail would not be falling apart like it is.The biggest reason why sales and margins are falling is that retailers in India are offering over priced products from a costly platform.Wal Mart is a success for a number of reasons but the biggest one is that when you pick up a product and you think that it should be worth X ,you flip the tag to find out that it is much less.That’s when you are compelled to buy more and more.It is estimated that Wal Mart keeps the US economy in check and saves Americans billions of dollars not only at their own stores but basically by being the benchmark for the retail industry – like a price index.Which retailer in India does that?So much so our friends even jack up the prices in SALE and then give you schemes such as Buy one get one free etc.But ‘customer is no moron,she’s your wife’ as David Ogivly said during a session at Sam Walton Institute for retail.Many of them have realized this Quickly and have decided not be lured by such cheap tricks.

Having established that it does not offer exceptional value and takes away unjustified amount of profit from your pockets let us see what they do with that money.

In a race to have more floor space,roll out faster and borrow more money Big B will be prone to buying products from inefficient supply chains and will have to stock them at  stores in expensive malls with crazy rentals.Keep in mind that they have no long term partners and every new factory they walk in will try and fleece them just like they did with the customers.With a highly leveraged working capital position Big B’s ability to pay on time is compromised and suppliers add interest cost to their own margins,making the product costly to start with.Big B is still doing a good job on negotiation partially because it has better reach and scale but it is nothing when compared to ‘Buy, build,own and operate” model of Wal Mart.If the pace of roll out was not an issue even Kishore Biyani will agree that the best way to focus on your retail Model and not worry about shifting value preposition and cost disadvantages is to own the stores.But Reliance came and spoilt the Party.I know that’s another sad story.

Now where does Big B go for money? To one of the Banks.And why would they give him cash? For interest.And whose money was it – Your’s. But there is a small catch here.There is big gap between the interest rate that banks pay you and what they ask from you let us say when you take a Home loan.Now it is fine that you will save money and the banks will lend and give you interest but what will you do when you have a substantial chunk.Buy  a house or a car right? Remember Alice in wonderland” Come into my parlor,said the spider to the fly” You will get a loan at a floating rate which will keep going up ap and away.In my case my home loan EMI increased from 9000 Rs 4 years ago to 14000 Rs now even with my term getting increased from 15 to 25 years !

So what ? ICICI bank will make profits .The truth is ,in this particular case it won’t.Remember we are not talking about overall banking but Big B ,you and banks.ICICI Retail Ventures has a huge stake and so do a lot of other Banks in other Retail companies.Venture funds stand to loose if the investment does not yield good results or if the value is not unlocked in an FDI deal or an IPO.Venture capitalists also have a substantial knowledge of the businesses they invest in and nurture good start ups and growing companies.This is not the case clearly in India.

Now how will ICICI bank cover up.You are damn right- by upcharging you on your outstanding loans.That explains their tendency to make a fool of everyone who was unintelligent enought to take a home loan from them like me.

It is for these Venture funds that Enterprenuers get pushed against the wall and not having enough resoures of knowledge,expertise,manpower,merchandise and supply chain go bankrupt like Subhiksha did.Subbu promoted his brand like anything so he can somehow get to do an IPO and get a good valuation so everyone gets a chance to party at the cost of the investor but I guess the Gods were in your favor so he had to walk away empty handed.Had he got a chance even he would have opened his stock at a price of Rs 350-400 just like Vishal retail did and the investors would now be weeping their hearts out while the share languishes at Rs 43 falling further with each bad news.

Sorry I went a little of the story.Well not really I think I was able to set the stage for what comes next.Option c) You invest in Pantaloon shares.The market capitalization of PRIL has fallen from Rs 12000 crores to Rs 2400 crores in just about 18 months.It simply means that a ruppe that you invested in PRIL share has become about 16 Paise only.And all the while you thought that what great saving I am doing by buying at Big Bazaar.The equation is quite simple.You shop for Rs 5000 ,think you saved Rs1000,comes back and invest Rs 2000 in PRIL.It becomes Rs 320. – a net loss !!!!

No matter what you do spend,save or invest you are bound to get jacked.You know why ?There is no real value being generated and so in the long run we are all dead.In hindi they say Jab tak Topi Ghum rahi hai gaadi chal rahi hai.Satyam would have never happened if the ball kept rolling but Raju was pushed into buying Maytas as he had no more money to support operations with the fall in share market.It could be the same for the retail players too. As per Warren Buffet ’s suggestion we may see a lot of naked folks running around as the tide of high share markets withers  away.

Moral of the story -Next time you go shopping please do not bother about this article and enjoy the ride while it lasts.

(wanted to use another word starting with R but my Kapersky blocks my own blog if I did)

मरीना बीच पर

मरीना बीच पर

बरसों पेहले एक ब्राम्हण ने कहा था

तुम में सूर्य का अंश है                                    

दूर शितिज पर डूबते सूरज से

मैं कुछ केहना चाहता हूं

मगर क्या ?

जो मायने नहीं रखता

उसे केहने के क्या मायने

और जो मायने रखता है

उसे केहने की हिम्मत नहीं है मुझमें

तो बस बैठा हू इस इंतज़ार में

कि कब एक बडी सी लेहर आये

और मैं भी डूब जाऊं मेरे सूरज की तरह

धरती की गोद से निकला समन्दर मुझे ऐसे घेर ले

जैसे मां अपने बिलखते हुए बच्चे को

अपने आचल में समेट लेती है

और तब केहने के लिये मेरे पास

कुछ नहीं रहेगा

~ ब कलम खुद

You love your desire more than what’s desired

Nietzcshe said ” You love your desire more than what is desired”

Jigar Moradabadi also echoed something similar.He says :

मिल के भी जो नहीं मिलता,टूट कर दिल उसी से मिलता है

That which I have but I don’t possess,My heart keeps longing for..

I have pondered over this for a long time and put it to test on several occasions in my life.It is quite a profound statement when critically examined.The object of our desire is more important or the desire itself ? If the object of our desire was the one driving our thoughts and actions then it should cease to fire our senses when it is not around or we have lost all hope of getting it.But it does not happen.

बेनाम सा ये दर्द ठहर क्यूं नहीं जाता

ज़ो बीत गया है वो गुज़र क्यूं नहीं जाता

This nameless pain has no end

It has happened so why I can’t get over it

सब कुछ तो है क्या ढूंढ्ती रहती हैं निगाहें

क्या बात है मैं वक़्त पे घर क्यूं नहीं जाता

I have what I want,So what Do I seek ?

I don’t know why I can’t go home On time

We continue to write sad songs in the memory of our beloved,we continue to sulk over the house that we could not buy ,we continue to feel bad about the business school we could not get into.Isn’t it rational for the mind to just stop thinking about something that is not there and does not even present an opportunity for it to be there in  future.What stops the mind to be rational is its inability to distinguish between a world that is real and outside and the one which it has created for itself.

I have found that over a period of time it becomes a habit of the mind and it feels insecure about letting it go.”I think therefore I am” so if I stop thinking I may cease to be.Thinking and being lost in memories is minds favorite past time and it clings on to it as finding something new and fresh may require venturing new territories.The mind gets comfortable with the thought and then there are aids like Alcohol which make the longing even more pleasurable and effortless.

फिर वही शाम वही गम वही तनहाई है

दिल को बेहलाने तेरी याद चली आयी है

its the same old evening,the same old sorrow,the same old loneliness

Your memories are here to give me company …..

Another aspect of this behavior is that the anger one feels about having lost out helps in inspiring creativity.Look at poets,artists,painters and writers.It seems that as if they will let go of their desire they will not be able to create anything new.Their inspiration is the thought that I got a raw deal and therefore the anger and the pain.

Ultimately the mind becomes so selfish and addicted to pain that it starts to get a kind of sadistic pleasure in indulging itself in misery.Once it knows that from this dark abyss stems its ability to cull out gems of art  there is no turning back.It starts feeding on pain.It looks forward to the lonely evening when it will be alone and by itself.

In the company of  its best friends pain,anger,misery,loneliness it revels and dances in a kind of satanic abandon.And in this gathering there is place for no one else ..not even the one for which this festival has been conjured.

रंज से खूंगर हुआ इंसां तो मिट जाता है रंज

मुश्किलें हम पर पडी इतनी के आसां हो गयीं

When you get used to pain,it vanishes

When troubles are many, they stop to trouble

तब हर सड्क मास्को तक जाती थी

जब मैं छोटा था

तो हर सडक मास्को तक जाती थी                                     

पेड शाम को पत्ते तोड्ने से जग जाया करते  थे

और हर फूल में परियां रहती थी

दोस्त मुझे चिल बिल की दावत पर बुलाते

और मैं उन्हें माचिस की डिबियां उपहार में देता

मैदान में फूट्बाल खेलनें जाते तो बस यूं ही

दरिन्दे के घर में गेट पर लगी घंटी दबा देते

और ळौटते हुए शीशे में उसकी परछाई को देखकर

मन ही मन सोचते कि केह देंगे “हमें क्या पता?”

साईकल पर सवार होकर यूं निकलते

जैसे कोलंबस जहाज पर अमरीका को खोजने जा रहा हो

हर मोहल्ला दूसरे से इतना दूर

जितना हिन्दुस्तान चीन से

कभी ये सब याद आता है तो लगता है

कि हम कितने भोले थे,कुछ नहीं जानते थे

पर जब गहराई से सोचता हूं तो पाता हूं

कि जीवन का विस्तार हमारी कल्पना ही तो है

मेरा दिमाग जितना बडा हो गया है

मेरी दुनिया उतनी ही छोटी हो गयी है

The Rainbow

“So when are you leaving Ravi?” asked his wife in a casual tone as if she would be surprised if he said that I am not going anywhere for awhile.Like all business executives business travel had become a necessary evil.Sometimes Ravi remembered the day he and his friend had gone to see his uncle off at Indira Gandhi International airport in New Delhi.After seeing the plane take off he had sighed” I don’t know when I will get to see the world”.It is said that at times the Gods have an open house and that was one such moment.His wish was granted and how.

Ravi had traveled and seen so much of the world that it made no difference to him whether he was in Delhi or Detroit,in Ludhiana or in London.Like a Zombie on auto mode he just got the next travel verdict from his assistant and started traversing the distance from point A to point B.At home too folks had given up and had got used to living life in his absence.

Initially he had liked the idea of seeing new places,meeting new people,and exploring new cultures but soon he realized that they were not people but machines in the corporate Jungle and the only culture that cuts across nations and climatic zones was that of money.He lost interest.As a corporate warrior he would practice every trick in the trade to retain market share and live on his false ego from quarter to quarter.No Questions,No feelings.

The flight was from Chennai as Bangalore had not started a direct flight to US on Lufthansa which was his company’s preferred Airline partner.As he entered the airport he scanned the scene with trained eyes to make way for himself through the maze of white lungis,saffroned foreheads and smell of coconut oil.He never understood why 20 people came to see someone off although he secretly wished that even he had a better farewell than drudging his suitcase all alone and keeping it in the boot of the Taxi.He argued that its not proper to wake his family up at 3 AM in the morning.”But they could always go back to sleep” came the reply from his malnourished and love parched heart. He immediately moved away from the thought whispering a “shut up” to himself.

The Luftahansa counter was at the far end and he would have to wade through the commotion to reach the comfort zone of his ‘first class’ check in counter.Apart from the free beverage of choice there was nothing to look forward to.He had figured out that the trained smiles were as fake as his own and the friendly strangers would remain unknown till he disembarked.Suddenly something caught his eye.

The frilled white top and jeans  stood out among the black and Grey business suites.Curiosity overwhelmed him and he changed his posture to have a closer look.He was right ,she was a young girl in her twenties.He realized that even he was not that old .He was just 33,a young achiever ! He smiled at himself – old habits never die.He started looking at the ads around on the walls of the terminal building.They were bright and beautiful with a promise of good life.Children smiled and mothers were hugging them,a radiant college crowd was talking about the promise of a new day,an old man was feeling proud that he could still afford to gift his grandchildren.Life was not that bad.

The more you try to pull away from something ,the more it binds you.Ravi vowed to himself that he would not look at her again.How cheap it would be if she finds out that this Vice President of a multinational corporation is staring at her and can’t even stop himself.”But she is so beautiful” a voice murmured inside him.”So what?” he countered almost audible to the German next to him.She was at the counter now and the clerk was issuing her boarding pass and checking her baggage in.Soon it will all be over …he comforted himself.

At the lounge there was nothing much to do.He gulped a few drinks and sat down to read.He loved reading.It offered him a trip in another world ,a world he had always longed for but had never found.He had picked up collected unpublished works of Munshi Premchand. Ravi loved Premchand from the time he was a student.To his mind Premchand knew human emotions and relationships like no one could ever get close to.His stories were so real and his characters always had shades with which one could identify.As always he would finish the book by the time he reached Dallas.

The mechanical voice of Lufthansa personnel announced that the Flight to Frankfurt was ready for boarding.Ravi grabbed his overnighter and rushed towards the gate # 4.He was looking forward to plunging himself into a good 8 hour sleep.It was 1:45 am already.He entered the cabin and being first class there was no need to ask for directions.There were just 18 business class seats 2 in each row at the front of the wide bodied Airbus.Dumping his belongings in the hatchet above he ensconced himself in seat 2 c and asked the stewardess for a glass of water.Vodka had made his throat quite dry and to avoid jet lag he wanted to make sure he kept himself hydrated.

As he moved forward to take out his book from the seat front he was disturbed by the sweetness of a scent which was ethereal.He looked up and could not believe his eyes.It was her !

Ravi was filled with a strange emotion.He did’nt know whether he should be  excited or what ? She was not only beautiful but there was something that was pulling him to her – like a magnet.Her big brown eyes,the long straight hair,a flawless complexion somewhere on the darker side and a figure that was neither skinny nor plump.Each one us has an idea of beauty and only if you are lucky you can set eyes on a sight which so perfectly matches your imagination.Ravi was witnessing one such moment.She was on seat 2 D.

Ravi asked for another glass as he gulped the one brought by the tall german hostess.He must have been sweating.The hostess checked on him” are you alright sir?”He wanted to say “I was…so far” but he just nodded.Soon the plane took off and was in the sky changing course to move northwest.Ravi wanted to remove his tie but he felt as if his every move was under a scanner.He had felt the same when he had been interviewed the first time and wanted to make an impression.”For what?” he fought back.Just because she is pretty does’nt mean that he will start getting conscious of himself.” So why don’t you take out your Premchand” he felt as if they were announcing it on the Public address system.” I like reading Hindi books,then?I don’t feel like reading it right now”he said to himself and sat quietly.Half an hour had passed and he could no longer pretend to be asleep.He opened his eyes and found that she was reading the In flight magazine.By her watch it was 2:30 PM.Her hair was falling over her hands tempting Ravi to touch them if he changed his position.But he pulled away.He tried to sleep but dreams were not his friend.Perhaps they had come visiting and were sitting next to him.

To end this confusion he pressed the button to call the hostess.”Do you have Lemon tea?” he asked.” No sir,but we have Ooolong super fine from Darjeeling”she said with a you are such a show off expression on her face.

” Do you care to have one sir?” She mocked.” Yes please, and please get sugar separately” Ravi said almost cursing himself for not remembering that they always did.After all this was the business class of world’s most premier airline not his roadside canteen at Banares Hindu University.

” By the way from when did you start having Oolong tea with light sugar” the voice in him was now completely out of control.” In Rome do as Roman’s do – I like Red Label boiled 5 times with 3 spoons of sugar because it keeps me awake.I wish to sleep now and this tea will help me do that” Ravi snapped.”Oh yeah,I can see that” came the reply.

One should always try and make friends with fellow passengers.You can pass time and get to know new people as well.Ravi was thinking aloud keeping his eyes closed and his body relaxed in a posture that had been his for more than an hour now.He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder.She was asleep.The magazine was lying flat on her chest.The windmill on the cover seemed to be amused.” What do you expect?she would be awake and looking for someone to talk to at 4:30 in the morning?” Ravi realized his foolishness but felt relieved as he won’t have to put up with this.You can’t talk to someone who is asleep.

The next few hours passed in utter frustration.He had the most beautiful girl in the world sitting next to him and there was nothing that he could do about it. Finally alcohol did the job and he drifted into sleep.When he woke up it was 9:30 by his watch.He never set it to foreign time Zones,it made him feel connected to his home.He wanted to stretch but he didn’t.She was still sleeping.Soon the plane would land and he would never see this angel again.Why didn’t he talk to her?you could have at least asked what she did or where was she going?What was her name? As the moment of truth approached his heart began to sink.

At about 10:00 AM the plane landed at Frankfurt airport.It was cloudy and it looked like it had rained earlier through the night.Everything was clean and fresh as if it has just now taken a shower.He could almost smell it.The pilot applied the brakes and the plane began to Taxi.

Ravi felt as if someone was staring at him.He turned around to see that she was looking at him.She smiled.He smiled back.She said” Can I show you something?” Ravi was puzzled as a Rubic Cube.She must have read his expression.” What a beautiful rainbow” She said pointing out of the window.Ravi bent a little towards her to get a clearer view making sure he did not touch her.He did’nt know what to say – Was she more beautiful or the rainbow?

” Actually I wanted to speak to you the whole Night” she said as Ravi adjusted himself back.He wanted to say “me too” .She went on” I had seen Premchand’s Book in your seat Pocket.It’s quite difficult to get people who can discuss Hindi Literature in Chennai.I really like his work.I feel that his characters are so real and his grip on human emotions is better than all other writers”.Ravi did’nt know what to say and blurted,taking the book out with one hand ” You mean this book?” She nodded with a twinkle.Smiling she added” But you semed to be so serious and busy with yourself.I did’nt have the courage.In fact if you would not have smiled back I would not have shown you the Rainbow”.

They had a few minutes to chat and Ravi came to know that she was on her way to Los Angeles and then onwards to Stanford.She had won a scholarship to pursue an MBA and as a special gift her father had bought her business class tickets.Ravi introduced himself and she said that she would want to be like him one day.

They went together to Baggage claim area and said their good bye’s.As he  turned away to catch his next flight to Dallas, her words echoed in his ears :

“If you had not smiled,I would not have shown you the Rainbow.”

वैसे हम भी होते काश !

आकाश अनंत है

और धरती एक मटमैली

नदी बनकर उसे

छू लेना चाहती है

वो पीछे नहीं हटता

और न आता है आगे

क्षितिज पर मिल तो सकते हैं

पर शायद ये दूरी  इन्हें अच्छी लगती है

एक दूसरे से ऊबते नहीं ये लोग

और ना ये कहते हैं कि बस बहुत हुआ

एक दूसरे में ऐसे मगन

कि कुछ और नहीं चाहिये इन्हे

दोनों का ये प्यारा सा खेल

ना जाने कबसे चल रहा है

जैसे ये धरती आकाश

वैसे हम भी  होते काश !

~ By aahang

Mom and Me

I can still feel  your hands on my forehead

When fever burns my body

I can still smell your hot tiffin                                              

when its a cold December morning

I still want to run to you

When I get applauded

I still crave for your lap

when I can’t sleep

I still want you to slap me

when I make mistakes

And I still want you to  tell the world

to stop bullying me

You have been there for me

But I am never there for you

I can look after you

only if  I stop looking up to you

Its time for me to stop asking

But I can’t.Its an old habit

I never grew up

I still need you

You can’t stop crying

Every time I take a cab to the airport

And I don’t want to imagine life

If you are not there

Chailu,my friend

It was a cold December morning.In Lucknow the temperature dips to about 4 degrees centigrade and with the fog playing havoc with the visibility I felt a cup of hot tea was my only chance of survival.The Physics practicals started at 7:30 AM and there were 15 minutes for me to get my fix.I liked the lab a lot not because of the experiments we did there but the equipment we had in the lab.Most pieces declared their origin to be ‘Great Britain’ and were probably imported 75 years ago when the Lucknow University was started. As I dropped the pendulum and watched it come back to  its original position at the center of the hinge,I could not help but wander if  my grandfather had found out the value of acceleration due to gravity working on the same pendulum.

Taking my gloves and Muffler off I entered the ” science canteen”.The classification was less scientific and more statistical taking its name from frequency distribution of art,commerce and science undergraduates who made it their rendezvous.The canteen was no match to what we see in movies these days.The gap between the Physics and chemistry department which had a courtyard and a covered gallery served as the canteen.The courtyard had an earthen furnace in a corner on which a staple serving of tea and samosas was prepared by the manage/contractor who was assisted by two boys – one for collecting the cups and plates and the other for washing them.A large chunk of Pundit population required that all cutting,pealing and cooking be carried out by Lallan Misra the Brahmin canteen manager himself.In this high seat of learning caste played an important role- from elections to hostel allotments to love lives  and shoot outs.A brahmin science graduate was the best you could be to put things into perspective.

“Aur Lallan , kya chal raha hai ? ” (howdy Lallan?I inquired making myself comfortable on the stool next to his place near the furnace which looked tempting at the moment.He maintained a grim expression on his face which looked even more ghastly in the orange yellow reflection of the light from the furnace.He passed me a glass of hot tea withot saying a word.Before I sipped it I just inhaled deeply not for the flavor but for the steam to open my blocked nostrils.

As the fog cleared a bit I could see a shadow in a corner.It was Chailu squatting on the floor and washing the cups and plates from yesterday.I had never registered that someone would be cleaning all the cups and plates.It was obvious now that someone did.I noticed that he was not more than 10 years old or may be his emaciated frame put my guess on the lower side.He was wearing a torn black sweater and a brown colored knicker.Both pieces of clothing were insufficient to help him dodge the chill.My gaze was fixed on him and I was watching his every move almost in slow motion.He had a tub full of ‘dirty’ cups and plates and two buckets -One was filled with soap water and the other with clear water.Both of them cold.Very cold.In my trance like state I could see that his hands were hesitant and each time he was forcing himself to touch the water.A few moments would have passed when Lallan shouted “Maa….,tumhare haath tod doonga”(Bastartd I will break your bones) and hurled a piece of wood from the furnace which hit Chailu on his left thigh.He jumped away,could not control himself and stumbled.Quickly he gathered himself and as if to avoid another hit from Lallan started washing the cups with false enthusiasm.

I recalled how I snuggled up in the warmth of the Quilt when I was his age and how my mother waited at me making sure all my demands for hot parathas,Jam and bournvita milk were fulfilled before I headed out to the school armed with a tiffin loaded with my favorite goodies.

A tear had swelled in his eyes and in mine too.

The cup of tea in my hand was warm with heat or with hatred I didn’t know.The tears in my eyes were of guilt or of anger I had no clue.The restrain in my hands was of pragmatism or cowardice I had no idea.I gave a dirty look to Lallan and rushed out of the place.While walking away I caught Chailu’s eyes for a moment.I was not sure if I was more embarrassed or him.

Years passed.I completed my graduation and did my business management frequently visiting the “commerce canteen” for the next two years.Went out to New Delhi in search of a job and never came back.I wriggled up the corporate hierarchy,raised a family,bought a house and a car as life kept me rolling on its roller coaster ride.

One day I had come to Lucknow for a meeting and it got postponed at the last moment.The guy I was supposed to meet had an office in Niralanagar quite close to the University so I thought let me go and check things out and relive some of my old memories.I entered the University and after roaming around aimlessly for a while  looking at strange faces I decided to go to some place familiar.It was December but as it was around 9: 00 AM the chill was a bit lesser.I sat on a chair “inside” just to feel the old times when we used to spend hours trying to put a matchbox in an empty glass by flipping it with the thumb.I wanted to see if there was a trace of my hands on the tables which doubled up as drums in our Jim Morrison Jam sessions.I was curious to see if R & A that I had scratched at the back of the window panel had been replaced by another set of initials.

I sat there and ordered for a cup of tea and  a samosa.The price had risen marginally by 50 paise on each item so the cumulative increase was a rupee.Not bad at all I said to myself.To while away my time I started looking at the furniture around me.I lifted my gazed to check out the fans,the paint on the walls and the ceiling and the man on the counter with an earthen furnace.Nothing had changed except the canteen Manager but even he looked familiar in a strange way.

A young student  entered the canteen.He was about the same age as me when I was an undergraduate.He had muffler and gloves on which he was taking off as he entered.In a casually confident manner he took the stool besides the canteen manager who had  a  grim expression that looked even more fearsome with the reflection of the flame from the furnace.He gave a cup to the young man who had just come in and kept staring in front.It looked like he was watching over someone.My eyes traveled in the direction of his gaze and I could not believe my eyes.It was Deja vu or what?There was a 10 year old boy sitting in the corner and washing cups.He had a tub full of cups and plates which he was dipping in a bucket of soap water and then in a bucket of clear water.Both of them cold.Very cold.Suddenly the canteen manager got animated and shouted

” Beh…d ,saala kal aayaa nahin ki bukhaar hai aur aaj der se aaya hai to haath nahin chal rahe hain harami ke”.(Bastard took an off saying he had fever and has come late today only to pass time) He pulled out a piece of wood from the furnace and as he was going to hurl it towards the boy the young man sitting next to him held his hand.”Paagal ho gaye ho Chailu”(Chailu,Have you gone mad ?) he screamed as his other hand transformed itself into a slap which landed across Chailu’s cheeks.It seemed to me like a moment in eternity.Time froze until Chailu came to his senses.He kept staring the guy holding his hand as if he had seen a ghost.He was petrified not knowing what to say or do.The boy washing the dishes was looking back with a mixed expression of disbelief , joy and self respect on his face.

Someone had lifted a big burden from my chest so I could breath easily again.Someone had broken the tradition of the ball of mud going around the ball of fire in a circle.Someone had gathered the courage to stop the pendulum from coming to its original position.Someone had defied gravity.

I felt as if I was free . I could fly and with me I could take away the boy washing the dishes in the corner.

I walked out of the place reworking the definition of gravity in my mind.By the time I was out of the gates I had summed up “Gravity is a force that binds all objects to the earth and is responsible for inertia – the tendency of objects to stay as they are unless a force is applied on them.”

It may not be a very good definition I thought, but it was correct as far as I was concerned.

Or A bird as free..

I will choose my own sky

And  how and where I fly

I will make my own road

And near or far I’ll go

I will fight my own battles

And decide if I lost or won

I will sing my own songs

And be soulful or loud

I will speak my mind

And be absurd or astute

I will find my own love

And be chaste or corrupt

I will live my own life

And be man or a bird as free

~ By aahang

Heritage Monument or Hotel California ?

We had just landed in Secunderabad in the summer of 2006 and knew nothing about the city,almost.One evening we decided to have dinner at a famous Chinese restaurant on Park Lane but to our dismay we could not get a table even after waiting for half and hour. With two little children and a parking slot which is as difficult to manage we thought we would settle for something a little less fancy.

Bang opposite to the chinese place we saw a number of boards declaring that there was a restaurant and a bar somewhere.We could not figure out where ?

There was this old colonial structure that looked more french than british but it hardly looked like a restaurant or a bar.

But since the board said that this was the place we wanted to have a dekho at it.As our party of 3 and a Quarter headed in the direction of what looked like the entrance we were accosted by a fierce looking man with a guards uniform and club in hand.He ordered ” You cannot go inside” and put his club in front as in to hold us back.

Surprised beyond belief I confronted him”But why not? We will go.You cannot stop us like this”.His expression had by now turned from mild retribution to anger and he thundered” I am saying you cannot go means you cannot go and certainly not with these people”.It was now my wife’s turn to question him while my two kiddos looked at each other and the three of us with a not so amused look.” Have you put a board here that who all can go and who all cannot.India is after all a free country”.The poor guy had given up by now and he said in a very deep tone almost like a whisper”Sir madam does not understand.It is better you first go and check out your self” I had begun to grow suspicious by now as some of the characters coming out of the building did not exactly look like gentlemen.Even they had a weird expression on their faces and they were looking at us as if they had seen some strange ghosts.I asked my wife to wait in a corner besides our car while I went ahead like an adventurer.

Once I entered the hall I could not believe my eyes.The place was straight out of the 18th century.I had never seen anything like this before in my life.Rows and rows of tables with two benches on each side,a dim lit bulb over them and all of the occupied by men in various stages of intoxication.Some were chatting or blabbering but most of them were drinking silently and by the look on their faces it was clear that they did not know the person sitting in front of them and neither did they care.There were 3 such halls and together there must have been some 100 tables !!!

Pulling myself up from the shock I got out and told my wife the whole story.Both of us were at our wits end that how could such a place exist almost frozen in time.I could not get over it and wanted to know the whole story so I went back the other day this time alone and all by myself.

What I found out was this :

It is amazing that even after more than 100 years the place is preserved in all its original glory.I imagined how groups of soldiers from the British cantonment would come and spend their evenings at the Monty’s hotel.Many of them would even stay there before their quarters were allotted or something like that.

I called up and  checked with some friends who have been living in Hyderabad for years together but no one knew about the place.

I promised to SHOW them Hotel California one day.And if anyone of you are in town I would be happy to take you there too but remember …No women and children please !

Unfortunately The Authorities have decided to delist the Monty’s Hotel from its Heritage building status and soon the place will loose out to a swanky mall or some other fancy and ‘modern’ building.

http://www.deccanchronicle.com/hyderabad/hotel-loses-heritage-tag-924#comment-7599

Seven Hills School

Vincent had lost his grandfather when he was just about 2 years old.He had very faint but fond memories of him.He associated his granpa with all things bright and beautiful -walks in the park,rhymes,chocolates,toys and yes the warmth of his paunch when he used to sleep on top of him on lazy afternoons.Everyone said that being the first grandson he was his grandpas favorite .It was an amazing sight when both of them slept soundly comforted by each others company,little Vincent going up and down on his Grandpa’s tummy as if on a see saw .Unfortunately there were no pictures to help him relive the bond once again.

He vaguely remembered that one day his old man had a pain in his chest,a van with blue flashing lights came home and he never saw his old buddy again.Days after his grandpa passed away he used to go to his room,touch his things and even sleep on his bed hoping that the room would give him back what the Van had taken away.It never did.

Time passed , the picture on the wall grew pale and Vincent grew up to be a fine young man  – well educated and employed in one of the respectable corporates with diverse business interests.

Vinvent had coem to know that his grandfather was the Principal of a School he ehad stablished in the hills near Musoorie.But having grown up in Mumbai he had never had a chance to visit the place ever.All along Vincent  had cherished a secret longing to see the school one day  but there was simply no reason to go to Musoorie.Today he was so happy that he may just have the chance to do it.His company wanted to buy a property for a Hotel in Mussoorie and he had been asked to evaluate the sight from business angle and also to negotiate with the seller.It was an opportunity that Vincent had quickly grabbed.

The journey from New Delhi to Dehradun was a comfortable one taking him throught the  well irrigated lush green Indo gangetic plain.It was October and after the rains everything was fresh,green and teaming with life.His outing from Mumbai had been limited to Lonavala and Mahabaleshwar .The farthest he had been to Goa sothe plains were quite different from the Sea and mountain landscape he was used to seeing on excursions.

It was a quite a welcome change .

He got down at Dehradun Railway station and streched himself.The 5 hour train journey had stiffened his limbs.There were rows of white ambassadors outside.The Taxi drivers were checking  prospective customers for business haggling their way to the best best bargain possible.The company had arranged a car for him and the Driver with a Placard and a wide grin was waiting just outside the station.Vincent handed over the luggage to him and asked him if he knew where he was supposed to take him.He also checked if Seven Hills School would fall somewhere on their way to Mussoorie.The driver said not exactly but he could take a detour if he wanted to visit the place.Vincent said he did want to check it out as his grandfather was the founding principal of the school.The driver willingly obliged with a glint of 100 rupee ‘Baksheesh’ already lighting up his eyes.

Dehradun was a comparatively a small town.But with the newfounded glory of becoming the capital city of Uttaranchal Development and history seemed to compete everywhere in the streets and bazaars that overlooked the hills of Musoorie.Vincent had read a little bit about the Dehradun and Musoorie before he took the plane out of Mumbai.He was fascinated to know that Musoorie was set up by the Britishers as their summer capital to escape the heat and dust of the plains.Every summer hundreds of Sahibs would throng the hill town of Musoorie.Many had made it their permanent address and had bought property as in cotagges,farmhouses and orchards.The place was very British - libraries,Post offices,Bakeries,Churches,Rose Gardens and of course boarding schools for Britishers and well to do Indians.The manager in Vincent wondered if it had been a profitable venture for his grandfather to have opened a school in the Hills.What kind of students did he have,How many teachers,How big was the play ground,How did he get the land -did he buy or lease it.He fancied that he could have taken tips from him for the current deal if he was alive.

As it would take a couple of hours to reach Musoorie with the detour the Driver suggested that he had Lunch at the ‘world’ famous Gaylord restaurant.The name appeared a little weird to him as if suggesting the sexual preferences of the owner of the restaurant.He checked with the driver that they took cash or ‘kind’ for their services to which the driver had replied ‘cash’ obviously.What did he mean by kind? Vincent smiled and felt silly about his Joke.The food was great and as he planned to stay for a couple of days in Musoorie he decided that he would enjoy his time and had ordered for a bottle of Kingfisher.He was ready to dose off in the Cab.

After about an hour Vincent was woken up by a sudden halt of the ambassador.When he opened his eyes he saw that the driver looked a bit puzzled and was perhaps looking for directions.Vincent checked ” What’s the matter.Don’t you know where Seven Hills School is?.’ The driver still had a lost look on his face and replied ” It should have been here”.Vincent got a little edgy’What do you mean?It should have been here.Are you sure we are the correct road”.The driver explained that he had never been to the school himself but had heard about it so he had some idea of its location but not exactly where it was.He started looking for someone to ask the directions when they saw a man in his thirtees approaching them.The man stopped and parked his Bike next to the cab and looked at the driver.He had a friendly smile on his face but something about him was out of place.He was wearing Khaki trousers with a loose fitting White Linen shirt and was sporting suspenders which looked more of accessories than holding his trousers in place.He had brown Gumboots on which had his trousers tucked in.His Bike too was an Enfield Bullet the kind they had imported from England before they set up production in India.The man looked quite familiar to Vincent but he rubbished the idea as no one from his family had visited the place for decades now.

“Are you looking for Seven Hills School?” The man on the bike asked the driver glancing over at Vincent.” Yes ,but how do you know?” asked the driver.He smiled widely this time and said” If you would ask me the directions to the Mount Everest I won’t be able to guide you.Seven hills is the only place you have in 5 miles in any direction so I guessed.I hope I am not wrong”.His words brought a smile on Vincents face as he jumped out of the ambassador and shook hands with the man on the Bike.”I would like to visit Seven Hills school.” said Vincent.”Sure” said the stranger and started walking towards a clearing which lead to a small road.Vincent asked the Driver to stay with the car and followed the stranger.They had walked a few yards when a large gate appeared in front of them.He could now see why they were unable to place the building from the road.The campus was walled and the gates led to a tarred road which took a turn to the right where the building was hidden from the view as it was on a low lying platue downhill from the road.The path was neat lined with beautiful flowers of all shapes,colors,smells and sizes.Vincent thought how wonderful it would have been to study here compared to the listless  grey and white building of his school in Mumbai.The main building itself was straight out of fairytales ,made of rock and stones cemented together with arches at the doors and windows.There was a large playground on one side of the building with Football posts and a basket ball court.The other side had a small vegetable garden which had cute little tomatoes,cabbages and other greens just waiting to be plucked for a special vegetarian ‘homegrown’ meal.

“Beautiful,Isn’t it??” said the stranger as if reading his mind.

“Yes,Yes very wonderful indeed.I had always dreamt of such a place.Its like a dream come true”said Vincent in a soft voice.

“Come let me show you the whole place” said the stranger pointing towards the building entrance.Vincent followed like a child after the Pied Piper.

“On your left we have the classes for the Kinder garten up to the Primary class and on your right are the higher classes from class 6-10.In the Middle is the Principal’s office flanked by the staff room on one side and the Accounts office on the other.We also have small infirmary next to the office in case someone falls sick.They went about each and every nook and corner of the school the playground,the games room with carrom,chess and TT tables,the Badminton court,the water tank which got its supplies not from the Municipal Corporation but from a water fall up in the hills.But surprisingly there was not a soul around.No one except him and the man who was enthusiastically showing him around.He would have got a little scared had this man not looked so confident,freindly and familiar to him.

Vincent asked” where is everyone?”

” It is June my dear friend.Summer vacations ,remember??” said the man adjusting his suspenders in a very casual manner.

“But how do you know so much about the school?Have you studied here?”checked Vincent.

“Well sort off” said the man raising both his hands in an animated manner.

Vincent wanted to ask what does he mean but decided that he must have failed and was chucked out by his grandpa so he was just trying to avoid the truth.He let it be.They chatted for a while and Vincent told him about his Family in Mumbai and the purpose of his visit to Musoorie but carefully avoided the reason for his visit to the school.He was not sure if he wanted to share his emotions with a stranger.The man informed that he had lived in the hills and was ‘associated’with the school for ’quite sometime’ before his family moved out.After he was done with the city life he had come back and lived close by.

By the time they came back to the car and parted company an hour had passed and  the driver was peacefully sleeping on the front seat which he had tilted backwards as drivers often do.Vincent decided to soak in the sights and sounds of his long cherished dream before waking the driver up so he stood outside with his back leaning on the boot of the car and lit up a cigarette.

Another man wearing a khakee uniform peddled towards him on a bycycle.He was quite old and looked like a peon of a governement office.Seeing Vincent standing alone he stopped his bycle and asked “Are you looking for someone?Vincent thought to himself “How much time do these guys have?In Mumbai if you stand on Nariman point your whole life no one would bother even if you were contemplating a suicide”.He was not interested in making a conversation when suddenly something struck him.He told the man on the bycycle” I had come to visit the seven hills school.Do you work there?

” Yes Yes very much.I am the Peon and the caretaker of the school.We are having summer holidays as of now.No one is there so I had gone to the nearby town to get some replenishments for myself.” he answered and looked curiously at Vincent.

If he had been here all along then he must be knowing my grandfather thought Vincent and said” Actually I am the grandson of Mr Phillips who was the first Principal and founder of Seven Hills School.Just wanted to see the place where he spent the best part of his life”

The man immediately jumped from his Bycycle and grabbed Vincent’s hand and started shaking it vigorously.”Oh what a pleasure to meet you.You look quite different from your Grandpa.He was such a kind man.I had nothing to eat when he gave me this Job and since then I have been here.He was really a great man otherwise who would have thought of opening a school in this place when everyone was running towards the cities in the plains.”He said gushing with excitement.

“Come let me show the place to you”He said.

Vincent replied ” I am afraid I have already seen it.A gentleman on a bike was passing by and he showed the whole school building to me while you were away”

“How could he? I have the keys,see !!” he said pointing to the bunch hanging from his hand. I must have forgotten to lock it once again” he cursed himself.

” But did you see the Picture of your grandfather in the Principal’s office?” he asked to which Vincent said no.

“Come let me show it to you.” and once again Vincent followed him on the track that led to the school building.The old man was surprised that the lock at the gates was open and he carefully locked it on one of the bars so he does not forget to lock it again when he went out.

The Principal’s Office was closed and it took a while for the Peon to find out the right key with which he could open the Lock.” The keys are with the Principal usually” he explained.The door opened with a creek and as it was a little dark inside the man moved towards the switchboard to switch on the lights.By now Vincent had walked in and was looking around.

As soon as the Lights opened the old man pointed out to a dusty pale black and white picture on the fireplace mantle behind the Principal’s chair.

” He is your grandfather Mr Desmond Phillips,Founder and Principal of the Seven hills School”

Vincent was stunned.He thought he was still dreaming.

He was looking at the picture of the man he had spent his last one hour with.The same childish smile,neatly parted hair,the Khaki trousers tucked inside his Gumboots and a white shirt with suspenders.He was standing next to an Enfield with a hand on the handle and a foot on the gear paddle leaning slightly on to the seat.

Vincent did not know what to say or do or feel.He had just been with his grandfather who was dead for 25 years now.Should he feel happy?Should he be afraid? Should he tell it to the old man or keep quite?

“Can I take this picture with me” he asked the peon.

” I don’t know,perhaps no one would notice.Give me your number and I would ask you to give it back if they do?said the man with a sneer on his face.

“Yes  sure” said Vincent and quickly pulled out a business card from his wallet and handed it over.

They said their good byes and Vincent promised to return in case the deal at Musoorie materialised.On the way back he was constantly thinking about his grandfather and why he could not recognize him.

Just then the driver asked him”Sorry Sir I fell asleep the whole time.Did you meet some one who knew your grandfather?”

” Yes I did” said Vincent in a choked voice ,clutching the picture tightly to his chest as the car took a sharp turn and headed towards Musoorie.

Beautiful Miss Grover

Gautam was confused like all other boys in the class.But like all other Boys in the class he never shared his doubts with anyone and pretended to know everything about being a ‘man’.At 16 he was struggling to find his place in the world and everyone around him was denying just that.When he wanted to play as he used to do when he was younger, he was told “till when are going to jump around like a monkey.Grow up,be a man.” And when he wanted to share his thoughts with his father or other elders he was shot down ” Don’t try to act over smart.This is not the age for you meddle in our affairs.Go and play with your Friends”

There was an unstoppable urge to prove himself.He was full of energy and enthusiasm,of new ideas and ways of doing things but no one seemed to notice or even bother to know what he was thinking.Even when he tried hard all that they would do is mutter a cursory “Yes,Yes I think its a great idea” all the while looking busy with something or someone else.

Suddenly he felt he was getting pulled by the opposite sex.The same silly things that girls did and he had made fun of intrigued him now.His idea of beauty which was earlier limited to Flowers,rivers and mountains expanded to include female of the species too.They were special among Gods creations and he wanted to look at them more and more.There was a strange mystery that enveloped everything that the girls did.Did they dress up to cover themselves or to reveal something exotic,Did they hide their smile to avoid other people knowing that they were amused or they wanted other people to entertain them so they can hide their smiles,Was the girl next door interested in him or she just found him ‘interesting’ ……

He had so many questions but no answers.He did not even know whom to ask.Being in a “boys” school had further complicated matters.Boys schools are typical places – everyone wants to know but no one wants to ask.Everyone does it but no one tells.Every one is afraid but no one will say.After all they are all Men !

One morning it was announced by their class teacher that she was leaving as her husband has got transferred to another town and very soon there would be another class teacher who would be taking charge.It makes no difference to me ,Gautam had thought.Few days passed and one day the Principal announced that Miss Grover would be their new Class teacher.She would be joining on the 15th of June which was a week from now.

It was another dull and boring day ahead in school and Gautam was  preparing himself for the drag.Just then he felt as if there was a very sweet smell that was filling up the room.He looked up as he was busy arranging his books as per the days schedule.There was a women in her early thirty’s wearing a pink saree standing in front of him.She was beautiful – like the river that comes down from the mountains and nourishes the tree that bears the fruits and flowers.She personified his idea of beauty and answered many of his questions without saying a word.She asked in a casual tone ” Busy??” .

Gautum stood up in a hurry and noticed that all other boys were standing.

With a sorry look on his face he answered “No,No Mam not really.I didn’t notice when you came in.I am very sorry.”

She kept looking at him and asked “There is nothing wrong with that.You did not notice me enter the class as your mind was focused on what you were doing?”

Gautam was dumbfounded.He kept staring at her.

She turned around and addressed the class” When you do something,make sure you give it your complete attention.Focus on it  even if it means loosing sight of everything and everyone around you.This is going to be my first lesson for all of you and we must thank Gautum for helping us understand this great idea.”

How did she know my name ?Gautam had wondered and kept his curiosity till the end of the class when he checked with Arindam his neighbor.

“.She kept standing there and you did not notice.Then she asked me your name .What do you think,the Principal told her about the brightest student in the class Mr Gautum ?”sneered Arindam.

Gautum smiled sheepishly and cursed himself for being so absent minded.

School was not such a bad place after all these years.Gautum realized that he had started looking forward to each day so much that he felt bad if there were holidays.It was a pain for him to pass the a day and a half when the school closed for the weekend on Saturdays.Miss Grover looked even more beautiful with every passing day.She had an impeccable dress sense and she always matched her accessories with her dresses which were mostly Sarees and Salwar suits.She had big brown eyes which she always accentuated with eye liners.Her long dark hair complimented here flawless skin tone perfectly.She was simple but still very attractive.Gautum used to think.He kept looking for a word to describe her and had settled with “beatific” though he felt she was better than that.

English became his favorite subject and Gautum worked very hard on it.He learnt all the poetry in the”Radiant English Reader” by heart and would borrow only poetry books from the school library all the time.Keats was his favorite poet.He liked him so much that sometimes he thought that he must have been Keats in his earlier birth.Keats gave expression to all his emotions attraction,love,longing,desire and failure.

Gautum confessed to himself that he was in love with his teacher.But he did not know with whom to share this forbidden secret.He just studied hard and kept working on his English.It was the only way to get close to his “special friend” as Miss Grover used to call herself when she was talking to Gautam.He would have given anything to be close to her and when she would pat her back or ruffle his hair for getting the highest marks in class he would be in seventh heaven,in a world of his own creation.

Books,Poetry,Studies,Songs and Miss Grover were all part of this voyage of self discovery..His friends who were his closest pals till now were a bunch of fools goofing around doing nothing.He thought of them as insensitive,unintelligent beings who did not have a heart for love or a mind for poetry.They were immature.His friends rebelled  and called him names – Bookie,Teacher’s pet even Miss Gautam!! But Arindam was different.He was Gautum’s best friend because he was sensitive,smart and intellectual or may be he was all these because he was Gautum’s best freind.Whatever the case but  they got along quite well.They studied together,watched movies together and read books that they recommended to each other.Sometimes during exams they even stayed over at each others place at night for co – study.

During one such stay over Gautum had shared his deep secret with Arindam.He admitted that it was wrong for him to think like this but he just could not help himself.He asked Arindam if he thought that she liked him more than the other boys in the class.Arindam said he wasn’t sure as she was quite friendly with all of them but she did seem to have a special place for Gautum in her mind.They had concluded that teachers do have ‘favorite students’ and it did not mean much if Gautum was one of them.Miss Grover was like a Goddess of beauty and love and Gautum was just like any other slave who could secretly wish for her but would be condemned to death if someone found out.The heart melted with few nights of tears on the pillow and gave in to the  reasoning of the mind.The “Secret” was dead and buried.

Both Arindam and Gautum passed out of the Centenary Boy’s school the next year.Gautum had stood first in School closely followed by Arindam.They had remained chums ever since.

40 years later Gautum was a highly respected Journalist and Writer.He had written several books of poetry,short stories and besides being the editor of a national news channel he was working on his first Novel.It had been quite a sensation when a leading publishing house had offered Gautum 1.5 million dollars as signing amount for something he had just begun working on.Life had not been so kind to Arindam and he had chosen to stay back in the city where they spent their childhood.He worked as the editor of a small local newspaper.

” Hi Gautum.What time is your flight back to Mumbai?”It was Arindam’s familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“It’s at 4 PM.Why ?” said Gautum.

” Can you come to my house as soon as possible?It’s kind of urgent.”

“I will be on my way in 5 minutes.What happened??”

” I will tell you when you are here.I need to fix something’s fast.I have no time.I will wait for you”said Arindam and kept the phone down.

Gautum asked the Hotel to arrange for a cab immediately and rushed towards Arindam’s house.All the while he had terrible thoughts running through his mind.He did not wait for the car to pull over and stop completely  and jumped out as soon as he reached the house.As he stepped in he saw Arindam talking to someone over the phone.He looked animated and worried but calm.It gave some respite to Gautam.

“What’s the matter ?What happened? shot Gautum as he placed himself next to Arindam.

” You remember Miss Grover?.I just found out that she is in the hospital and there is no one there to look after her.I was speaking to the Doctor and he said that there is very little chance for her survival.”

“Yes I do.” said Gautum conscious of not letting his blood gush to his face and ears.

” She suffered a stroke last night.Her brain is half dead by now and there is a small chance that she might pull through if she gets to see something or someone she really likes or loves.I have asked the Doctor to do his best.The problem is that she has no one in the family.Her husband died a few years back and they never had any children.I do not know anyone else in her family and even if I did who would bother about an old dying women in a hospital.”ended up Arindam with a sigh.

“Lets go and see her.” said Gautum without an expression.He was trying hard to fight the tears which had swelled in his eyes by now.

Arindam had already arranged for shifting the patient from the Goverment Hospital so they rushed to Apollo.Incidentally the head of Neurosurgery was Dr.Gupta or” Gupt Gyan” as he was fondly known in their school  due to his mastery of the subject of Sex.Arindam had informed Dr .Gupta already and when they reached he was standing next to the bed on which Miss Grover was.There were all kind of medical entrapments attached to her body monitoring every move.The problem at this point was that there were none.

Dr.Gupta shrunk his shoulders before he held out a hand towards Gautam.He seemed to be pleased to be meeting an acclaimed author more than he was at meeting an old friend.Gautam held out his hand and said “Hi” glancing over to the bed which was placed along one side of the room.

“Is she responding to anything” checked Arindam.

“No.We have tried our best.It is only a matter of time.Let us hope for a miracle”

Gautum had reached the bed by now.He was looking at the tired old body of Miss Grover.Her hair were almost all white,her skin pale and yellow and her face was devoid of any expressions.But there was something in her eyes that was not letting Gautum pull away from her.It was deep ,very deep.He could almost hear a voice “Gautum.I am proud of you.I can bet with anyone that one day you will be the biggest author in the country and all of us will read your books.Don’t worry what everyone says just keep writing.I am there.”

The same mouth was speechless, the same lips were silent,the same body was lifeless.The spirit which had inspired a 100 Gautum’s was going to let go into oblivion.

” We will take you home.”whispered Gautum as he bent down and came close to her ears.He was looking straight into her eyes now.

As he  gazed at his dying teacher in a trance like state.He wanted to tell her “Look who is here.It’s Gautum.You always said that I will become a great author and I have become one.Wake up Mam.Wake up and tell me which one of my poems did you like my most,which character of mine you fell in love with,Which story brought tears to your eyes and shook your heart.”

He wanted to relive the past and ask her “Wouldn’t you get up and pat my back and ruffle my hair once more.You just can’t ignore me now.Tell me if I have made a good impression on you.Tell me that I deserve all the fame and success that I have earned.Tell me that I have made you proud .Please ,Please don’t fail me another time.”

Gautum held Miss Grover’s frail hand as these thoughts ran through his mind.He did not realize when he broke down .Arindam and Dr. Gupta looked at him with surprise.They did not understand what was happening although Arindam had some idea.

Arindam walked towards the bed and kept a hand on Gautum’s shoulder.He looked up at Miss Grover’s face.She was looking at Gautum with love in her  eyes.For a moment he felt that her face had changed and she looked the same as she used to 40 years ago.

He thought he saw an eyelid flicker as he went closer to headboard and  wondered if the instruments which were showing any signs of life …..

(We’ve) Lost that Loving Feeling

In the year 1977 my father traveled to Europe.He had been awarded a scholarship by WHO to do research at a lab in Malmo,Sweden.I was just 6 years old at that time.It was a 1 year project but I believe he wrapped up a bit early as he was sick of living all alone in a strange land with no one to talk to.Looking at foreign microbes,sashaying along air conditioned corridors,staying in a 15×12 hostel room at the medical college and eating boiled food was not his idea of success ,I believe.

In the year 1978 he returned home.He came back with suitcase load of goodies that he had written about on picture postcards that were handed over to us by the postman day after day and week after week.We were not sure if we were more happy at Papa coming home or with all the gifts and Toys that he had brought us.I remember I felt lucky that we had both.

In his Baggage was strange equipment to play Music.We had so far seen only a tape recorder and a transistor but this thing had all three play back modes available at that time together.It had a transistor,a tape recorder and an LP disc player.We christened it the “3 in 1″.We had a few cassettes that Papa got along with him and the transistor played Vividh Bharti without any options.The problem was the LP player.With a round turntable and a needle to go with it this was the most intriguing part of the 3 in 1.Even my father did not know how exactly it went about churning notes from thin air as the Vinyl disc rotated in circular motion atop the turn table with the silver needle scratching its surface.

One of the songs that Papa had recorded perhaps on a  lonely night in his hostel room was a song by Righteous Brothers.It was called   ” You’ve lost that Loving feeling”Even though I did not understand the meaning of the song I liked it a lot for some strange reason.The voice of the singers was deep and laden with sadness,the notes were perfectly arranged and I just loved the Saxophone , the drums,the cymbals and the bass guitar which made its presence felt in the background….Tum Ta rum Ta rum Ta rum.

Its a beautiful song.In case you really like it and wish to sing along Pls follow You tube video :

30 years down the line I know exactly what it means when your partner does not close her eyes when you kiss and how the tenderness in her fingers is lost.

Innocence is a great gift and even the most painful facts of life can be enjoyed if one does not understand their ugly nature.I guess that is what keeps taking us back to our childhood.

I wish I never loose that Loving feeling but the years keep adding up and something beautiful keeps dyin‘  within me.

The song is also sung wonderfully by Elvis Presley.Later Westlife came up with their version too.

And here’s the one by Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

मेरे पेड मेरे दोस्त

मेरे पेड मेरे दोस्त

हर रोज़ सुबह                                                      

जब मैं घर से बाहर जाता हूं

अपनी हरी पत्तियों की मुस्कुराहट लिये

तुम मुझे छोड्ने के लिये खडे रह्ते हो

सच पूछो  तो बस तुम ही एक साथी हो मेरे

क्योंकि तुम मुझे समझते ही नहीं हो

मेरे साथ बांटते हो मेरे सुख और दुख

जब मैं उदास और निराश होकर

अपनी कार का दरवाजा बे मन से खोलता हूं

तो लगता है कि तुम भी खडे हुए हो चुपचाप

और जब मैं जोश से गुंगुनाते हुए

कार के शीशे में अपने आप को देखता हूं

तो तुम सिर हिला कर कह देते हो

हां भई बहुत अच्छे लग रहे हो

मज़ा तो तब आता है जब देर रात मैं

नशे में चूर कार में चाभी नहीं लगा पाता

और तुम मुस्कुराकर मुझे चिढाते हो

लेकिन सच केहना मेरे यार

कल रात जब मेरे पैर लड्खडाये थे

क्या वो तुम थे जिसने मुझे

गिरने नहीं दिया था …..

My tree My freind

Every Morning when I go out

You are there to see me off

With your smiling green leaves

Honestly you are my only true freind

you not only understand me well

but you are always there for me

To share my Joys and my Sorrows

When I open the door of my car

with an indifferent mind

You stand there in silence

When in a cheerful mood

I hum a song and take look at myself

in the rear view mirror

you smile and tell me

It’s Ok you are looking just great !

In the middle of the night, Inebriated

when I struggle with my car keys

You scoff at me and I laugh with you

Don’t lie to me my dear friend

Tell me the truth

yesterday at night when I stumbled

and was about to fall

Was it not you who reached out

and did not let me hurt myself.

Appraisals can make or break companies

Going through the humiliation of the Appraisal Process one wonders why they needs to be subjected to this barbarous act with tyrannical overtones in which personal dynamics or organizational realities are charaded  as performance measurement.

The above  can be aptly demonstrated by picking up the data of Good,Better and Best ratings of the last two years.Do employees who were “best” until last year have suddenly lost it to be rated as just OK or even poor this year.It is not the employee but the economy which is under  performing and wants to loose excess baggage for a tough uphill climb.

Having been through the grind from either side of the table for a number of years now I have realized that while the purpose of a performance appraisal is to”motivate” the employee for performing better in the coming year it most often  ends up as  a fault finding mission in which your boss frames you for crimes uncommitted for justifying a rating already conceived.

Data is twisted beyond recognition.If you are blessed , only those numbers will get highlighted which are in your favor and if you have rubbed the powers that be on the wrong side you may suddenly notice that the bars are smaller,the trend lines have a downward slope and you are falling behind everyone else like never before.

Before my motivational speech turns into a personal rant I would jump to the obvious question What’s the solution ?

To answer this we will first have to look at the cause of the problem.While organizations lay down seemingly fair ways of performance appraisal clearly defined by systems and methods it is ‘people’ who have to execute the process.We have to realize that organization is nothing but a group of people and people are humans who will have all the limitations of being one.They have egos when it comes to subordinates,jealousy when it comes to peers, and malice towards anyone who can take up their slot in the short run.I will give you a few examples to demonstrate why and how the system fails :

1.The rating of a yes man is always better than those who speak their own mind even though every official publication will talk about innovation and new ideas.Remember ‘The boss is always right’ .

2.Every time your boss recommends a promotion you come closer to becoming him especially if he is not moving up so he is perfectly justified that you are frozen in time too

3.The organization is visibly owned by nobody and so there is no point in putting too much premium on performance. Underachievers consistently  demotivate their team members to under perform  so they can never come close them in the hierarchy.Very difficult to prove but easy to to get away with.Appraisal happens once a year but the bosses can slow poison everyone around them every day.

So what should be done ?

OBJECTIVES  HAVE TO BE AS SPECIFIC AS POSSIBLE

METRICS HAVE TO BE AS NUMERICAL AS POSSIBLE

APPRAISALS HAVE TO BE AS OBJECTIVE AS POSSIBLE.

The process has to be fair but more significantly it has to APPEAR to be fair.

It is very important that an employee understands the rating process and agrees to his rating.Unless they own their performance the whole purpose of conducting an appraisal is defeated.It is even more important that the areas of improvement and gaps in performance are well identified and specific measures are outlined to make sure the next years rating can be improved.You are successful as an appraiser only if you can get enhanced results from the Appraisees in the coming year.In fact there should be a penalty on those bosses whose teams ratings keep falling each year.

To ensure the above progress needs to be reviewed every quarter to take away any surprise element at the time of final assessment.

An appraisal that’s fair and well conducted will most certainly inspire the employee to do better.On the other hand an appraisal badly done can ruin the employee as well as the organization.

Some organizations do exceptionally well than the others – now you know why.

It is the Appraisal.

Would leave with parting lines from Marcus Aurelius ;

A man has to stand up straight,not straightened.

I have no friends or enemies

कोई दोस्त है न रकीब है,
तेरा शहर कितना अजीब है.                              

यहाँ किसका चेहरा पढा करूं,
यहाँ कौन इतना करीब है.

मैं किसे कहूं मेरे साथ चल,
यहाँ सब के सर पे सलीब है

वह जो इश्क था वह जूनून था,
ये जो हिज्र है ये नसीब है.

तुझे देख कर मैं हूं सोचता ,तू हबीब है या रक़ीब है,

तेरा शहर कितना अजीब है

There are no friends or enemies

How strange is this city of yours

Whose face should I read now

I have no one who is close to me

Whom should I ask to come along

All of them have their own cross to bear

The affair that I once had was an obsession

This longing which I have now is my destiny

Looking at you, I can’t make up my mind

If you are really a friend or may be an enemy of mine

The Ghazal has always been very close to my heart but for some reason it has been the top of my mind these days.

At a point you do realize the relativity in relationships and the fact that the only thing  static,absolute and changeless about you is yourself.

Droplets on my window

The train moves

Swift and sometimes restrained

Hopeful , fast ,speeding                                          

Sad and slow

as my thoughts

The scene outside changes

from parched landscape

seeking rain

To a green patch with paddy

There are large Junctions

crossing paths

and to break the monotony

Some smaller stops

They are all on my way

each with its own role to play

These droplets of rain

on my window

every  one a reminder

of a place or a person

The train gathers speed

approaching a new horizon

and  the drops fade one by one

with a force that breaks them away

What’s left of them

will be soaked in by the sun

And the promise of a new day

भागती जाती है रेल

कभी तेज़ कभी रुकी रुकी सी

जोश और उत्साह

निराशा और दुख

जैसे मेरा मन

द्र्श्य बदलता रहता है

सूखी धरती

आसमान ताकती है

फिर आ जाते हैं हरे भरे खेत

लहलहाते हुए

बडे  जं क्शन  आकर

राहें बदल देते हैं और

छोटे छोटे स्टेशन छूट कर

मिटाते देते हैं सफर की ऊब को

ये सब मेरे सफर का हिस्सा हैं

और सबका एक किरदार है

ये जो बूंदे हैं ना

मेरी खिड्की के शीशे पर

याद दिलाती हैं

किसी और वक़्त की

किसी और शख़्स की

तभी रेल बढा देती है रफ्तार

नये क्षितिज को पाने के लिये

ये वेग यादों को ठ्हरने नही देता और

एक एक कर बूंदें धूमिल होनें लगती हैं

जो शेष रह जायेगा इनका

वो  कल का सूरज सोख लेगा

रह जायेगी तो बस उम्मीद

एक नये दिन की

~ By Aahang

~ The picture was taken by me en route to Bhopal near Eastern Ghats

मौत से एक संवाद

कल रात

तारों से करता था जब बात

अचानक दर्द हुआ सीने में

सांसे बोझिल हुईं                                                  

और पेशानी पर उभर आईं बूंदे पानी की

देखा तो सामने मौत खडी थी

बोली ‘ चलें ?’

कहां ? मैं अभी कहीं नहीं जाउंगा

क्यों ??

मुझे ये जगह अच्छी लगती है

तो मरने से डरते हो तुम भी

नहीं मैं बिल्कुल नहीं डरता

क्यों नहीं ? मौत ने पूछा

हद है.तुम जीने से डरती हो क्या ?मैंने कहा

नहीं

तो फिर ?

मृत्यु और जीवन तो बस अवस्थाएं हैं,

केवल  एक बोध

जीवन का ना होना मृत्यु है

और मृत्यु का ना होना जीवन

पर मनुष्यों तो मरनें से डरते हैं

और तुम तो मनुष्य हो

किसने कहा ? मैं तो खुद को देवता समझता हूं

तो मैं कौन ? मौत बोली

मुझे क्या पता ? शायद मनुष्य !

तुम पागल हो गये हो

पागल ? अच्छा ये बताओ

पागल होना बेहतर है या मरा होना

शायद पागल होना

और मेरे लिये तो तुम मर चुकी हो

तुम मरी हुई मौत हो और मैं तो बस पागल

तभी मौत की परछाई धूमिल होने लगी

मेरे मरने का वक़्त टल चुका था

बालकनी का दरवाज़ा बन्द कर

मैं कमरे में आया और  लेट गया

बहुत दूर से एक आवाज आती जान पडी

कोई कह रहा था ‘ ये क्या पागलपन है?’

मैं समझ गया कि मौत

भगवान के पास वापस पहुंच गयी

मैंनें  चादर तानी और सो गया

रचनाकार – आहंग

फिर कुछ दिल को बेक़रारी है – A restless heart

फिर कुछ इस दिल को बेक़रारी है

सीना जोया – ए – ज़्ख्मे- कारी है

my heart is becoming restless again

my nails have started looking out for my chest once more

फिर उसी बेवफा पे मरते हैं

फिर वही ज़िन्दगी हमारी है

I am willing to die for her once more

carrying on with the same life  again

बेखुदी बेसबब नहीं गालिब

कुछ तो है जिसकी पर्दादारी है

this lost feeling does not make sense anymore

there has to be something that’s hidden from us O’ Ghalib

The last couplet is the one with the deepest and most profound meaning.At some point in life the mystery of life and death does not make much sense anymore.One begins to question why am I here ? what’s the purpose of my life ?Is there a purpose at all ? If this is how it feels to be alive then how does it feel to be dead ? Is there a difference in two states or they are just mind play ? The questions haunt you but there are no answers.You feel deluded,lost and confused.

That’s when you begin to wonder what is it that my thoughts hide from me.Who or what does not reveal itself fully and completely ?Its here now and its gone another moment.You can feel it but then you don’t.The questions bother you so much that you want to scratch and bleed your heart out.

But you are helpless,nothing happens.

Even the 2nd couplet is a mockery of human beings.They believe in God as there is nothing else to explain there existence.Loss of God means losing your bearings.Which way are you headed,is there a way ? Like a compass pointing towards the light from a lighthouse your soul keeps moving pointedly towards the source not essentially sure if it is something real or its going to deceive you again like a mirage in the desert.

There is no rest or refuge so you do what needs to be done , passing life one day as it comes.

सर्कस

हम सब मिल सर्कस को आये

एक उमंग मन मे भर लाये

हाथी दादा कब तक आएंगे

बच्चों का दिल बहलाएंगे

भालू है हम सब का प्यारा

खेल दिखाते बन्दर न्यारा

मोटर का भी करतब होगा

ये तो मेला खूब सजेगा

शुरू हुआ सर्कस का खेला

लगने लगा जीवन का मेला

करतब पे करतब आते थे

आंखों को चौंका जाते थे

बैठे रहे तालियां पीटीं

खडे हो गये मारी सीटी

थोडी देर में मन भर पाया

सब कुछ लगा मिथ्या माया

जी में आया अब उठ जायें

घर को जाएं  छुट्टी पाएं

जीवन भी तो ऐसा ही है

एक सर्कस के जैसा ही है

जानवर बन जाता इंसान

खेले खेल समय बलवान

वही है सर्कस वही है मेला

बदला तो बस चेहरा  चोला

Wisdom of the rain

An answer to my prayer

The Rain is here

a torrent of hope for the land so dry

In drops big and small,it falls from the sky

As far as eyes can see

the scene is wet, watery

The little boys boat  sails afar

The lovers  get cosy in the car

The baker looks sadly at his unsold cake

the maid take off for an excuse fake

The poet  sings  to the passing cloud

the youngsters dance on a music loud

The old man thinks of a time gone by

I give my post another try

Just pause and think ;what’s happening

Does the sky even have an inkling

We pray for rains and it does not budge

and then it pours the streets are smudge

Its natural; sure it is

but even we are progenies

of the same creation

water – hydrogen,oxygen

The nature tells us a lesson

just be like me

Doing what you feel like

not what’s necessary

If you feel like singing ; sing

If you feel like dancing ; dance

If you feel like crying ; cry

No pleasure or pain,No loss no gain

You have no one to please but you

You have no life to live, but yours.

~ By aahang

Children of a playful god

Have been on the road for a while and did not get much time to post anything.Between airport lounges,boardroom meetings and Taxi rides it struck me that most of the people I met with,looked at or came across were trying to prove a point ,to themselves if not to anyone else.

I am a business Manager                             

I am a Vice President

I am a go getter

I am an achiever

What no one seemed to exhibit was a simple statement which perhaps drives whatever we do in Life.All this while I felt a very strong urge to stand up and shout :

I am Happy,I am at peace with myself,I am joyous about the world around me.I am…..just I am.

I guess saying that would mean stepping down from my current status of a harassed,overworked,struggling,upwardly mobile executive.I am none of that and I do not wish to be any of that.I just wish to be me not judged by anyone,not playing to live up to my image,not answering anyone or asking any questions to others.Just existing and being alive,aware.

I have always found happiness to be a very rational and logical choice.There is a lot to be gained if I keep myself amused as the world passes by  and there is everything to be lost if I chose to crib and sulk.I am not saying that I do not indulge in those activities but I am always aware that I am doing it for the sake of it.Deep down I am unmoved,unchallenged.

Its Janamashtmi today and sadly enough I will be arriving home well after Lord Krishna is ‘born’. Through his life Krishna gave a message be playful,be joyous,to have nothing to loose or to gain.We have many lives.There IS no hurry.Be patient,enjoy the journey.

I had a debate with a friend who was reading Bertrand Russel’s treatise on religion.He asked me the question : why did God create the world ?And I told him what Tulsidas said when he was asked why did he write Ramcharitmanas : Swantah Sukhaya which simply translates : for his sheer satisfaction/pleasure.There cannot be any other reason.This is why we do most of the things we do and perhaps it applies to our creator too.If you consider it God does not have to go through an appraisal process so he ‘HAD’ to create the world else he will be given a lower rating.There is no one who can force him to do anything.He does not owe anyone of us a favor so what else ?He could not believe it and said it is a silly assumption.Well I believe in it as it is the only thing that gives meaning to my life and all that happens around me.I cannot otherwise explain the death,disease and the misery.Just like in a video game you keep playing for pleasure and do not mind if you loose a life ,being alive or dead cease to have  a context when you know that it is just a game in which each player has as many lives as there could be till he gets the perfect score,Nirvana,Moksha or whatever else you may call it !

So what have I done about it ??Nothing just been playful doing things for my own pleasure.

I hanged the showpiece in my company guest house in a funny posture and asked the caretaker to make sure it doesn’t change till my next trip.He thought I had lost it and I loved the expression on his face.

I realigned the basketballs at Reebok Office in a certain manner which I thought was funny while waiting for the meeting to start.Those who worked in that office thought something was weird but could not figure out what.I was amused yet again.

I made faces at a 5 year old riding back from school dressed in Krishna attire…………she teased me back.

I smiled .Both of us were children of a playful God.

** I wrote this post on the free internet connection provided at the Airport Lounge at Delhi and saved Rs.30 worth of internet time

Friends Forever

We were having our evening tea a little late.On the TV they were talking about an actor’s life.My wife  asked me just out of the blue – Who is your best friend ?

Casually I reacted – No one

She said – Do you at least have a friend ?

I started thinking not sure if I was scanning my phone list or  looking  for  a definition of friendship.

I could not make up my mind and told her I am not sure .

But you get so many calls,so many emails,you keep writing, blogging,going places ?

You are right.May be I have a freind but I don’t know.Never really thought about it .

OK  – how about X ? she said

He is an acquiantance.

and Y ?

We do business together

and Z ? you guys go out and all

That’s because sometimes I don’t feel like talking to the stars after two drinks.

But they must be thinking you as their freind

I don’t think so.If they were it would be unjust on my part….

But you give them an impression of being a freind

Never thought about it.I don’t think so …I think they know about me just like I know about them.

The doorbell rang.Children were back from the neighbors house and I could hear her giving them instructions to wash hands,drink their milk and start studying.Familiar sounds ,even my mom did the same.

I switched on the bedside lamp and picked up Maupassant’s short stories.

I could not read.I was disturbed somewhere deep down.I had no friends I thought.Did I ever have a best friend ? I decided to rewind my life from the very beginning just to be sure that I had no manufacturing defects.

Went back some 30 years – The yellow bus, hot tiffin,Dirty shoes, smell of chalk , white shirts tucked out,ties knotted 6 months back…. two boys.

” So what are you going to do ?”                                              

” I don’t know?”

“Papa will surely thrash me”

“My Dad will lock me up in the dark room with the ghosts”

” If only We did not have to show our report cards”

” Yes but the teacher wants them back signed”

I saw fear in my friends eyes.

I had seen excitement in them when we had played together a day before the exam.I could not imagine him locked up in that black hole.I wanted to help.But how ?

” Wanted to ask you something”

What ?

Have you failed for the first time?

Yes.How about you ?

Me too ?

So you never had to get your report card signed from your father.

Yes.This is the first time the teacher has asked me.

Our eyes met for a while.I knew that he knew what I was thinking.

We opened our school bags and exchanged the report cards.

Next morning as we waited at the bus stop there was a smile on our face.

“How are you doing Dr. Singh ? ” I said mockingly.

“I am just fine Dr.Srivastava.” Came the reply.

For that moment we were friends….best friends.

I had got my answer.I smiled and went back to my book.

O’ Calcutta !

Calcutta or Kolkata as of now has a unique character.At the first instant its stark – misery,squalor and chaos are discomforting but as you visit again and again the sights and sounds start becoming a part of your psyche.

Its life – at its fullest;  struggling for survival one moment and ecstatic at its existence the other.The human drama unfolds and like a black hole of emotions it sucks you in.Before you know you are a part of the landscape.

The Rs 2 a plate lunch,the casual hangouts(addas),the maidan(big ground),Victoria Memorial,The Howrah bridge,The new market and the river Ganges catch you unaware and with a slow pace that’s so characteristic of this ‘City of Joy’ seep in to become a part of you forever.

Here are some images that got etched in my mind …

At the end of the day

In restlessness they roar

the  waves strike ashore

Casting an ominous shroud

the sun sets  behind the cloud

It leaves without a word

the scene looks so  absurd

I won’t give up without a fight

though  I  dread another long night

Watching my twisted destiny

I am the lonely tree

Its getting dark ;  you are so far away

I am all alone ,  at  the end of  the day

Global Warming and Cow fart

Here’s an interesting article from Wall Street Journal refuting the Global Warming enthused Doom’s day scenario.Even if this is not completely correct,it makes more sense to me than those monkeys shouting ” Blah,Blah” from the TV screens.

Anyone who talks without facts and proof about the world coming to an end should be classified as a “terrorist” and be treated accordingly.

Suppose for a minute—which is about 59 seconds too long, but that’s for another column—that global warming poses an imminent threat to the survival of our species. Suppose, too, that the best solution involves a helium balloon, several miles of garden hose and a harmless stream of sulfur dioxide being pumped into the upper atmosphere, all at a cost of a single F-22 fighter jet. Good news, right? Maybe, but not if you’re Al Gore or one of his little helpers. The hose-in-the-sky approach to global warming is the brainchild of Intellectual Ventures, a Bellevue, Wash.-based firm founded by former Microsoft Chief Technology Officer Nathan Myhrvold. The basic idea is to engineer effects similar to those of the 1991 mega-eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in the Philippines, which spewed so much sulfuric ash into the stratosphere that it cooled the earth by about one degree Fahrenheit for a couple of years. Could it work? Mr. Myhrvold and his associates think it might, and they’re a smart bunch. Also smart are University of Chicago economist Steven Levitt and writer Stephen Dubner, whose delightful “SuperFreakonomics”—the sequel to their runaway 2005 bestseller “Freakonomics”—gives Myhrvold and Co. pride of place in their lengthy chapter on global warming. Not surprisingly, global warming fanatics are experiencing a Pinatubo-like eruption of their own. Mr. Gore, for instance, tells Messrs. Levitt and Dubner that the stratospheric sulfur solution is “nuts.” Former Clinton administration official Joe Romm, who edits the Climate Progress blog, accuses the authors of “[pushing] global cooling myths” and “sheer illogic.” The Union of Concerned Scientists faults the book for its “faulty statistics.” Never to be outdone, New York Times columnist Paul Krugman scores “SuperFreakonomics” for “grossly [misrepresenting] other peoples’ research, in both climate science and economics.” In fact, Messrs. Levitt and Dubner show every sign of being careful researchers, going so far as to send chapter drafts to their interviewees for comment prior to publication. Nor are they global warming “deniers,” insofar as they acknowledge that temperatures have risen by 1.3 degrees Fahrenheit over the past century. View Full Image Gloview Associated Press Gloview Gloview But when it comes to the religion of global warming—the First Commandment of which is Thou Shalt Not Call It A Religion—Messrs. Levitt and Dubner are grievous sinners. They point out that belching, flatulent cows are adding more greenhouse gases to the atmosphere than all SUVs combined. They note that sea levels will probably not rise much more than 18 inches by 2100, “less than the twice-daily tidal variation in most coastal locations.” They observe that “not only is carbon plainly not poisonous, but changes in carbon-dioxide levels don’t necessarily mirror human activity.” They quote Mr. Myhrvold as saying that Mr. Gore’s doomsday scenarios “don’t have any basis in physical reality in any reasonable time frame.” More subversively, they suggest that climatologists, like everyone else, respond to incentives in a way that shapes their conclusions. “The economic reality of research funding, rather than a disinterested and uncoordinated scientific consensus, leads the [climate] models to approximately match one another.” In other words, the herd-of-independent-minds phenomenon happens to scientists too and isn’t the sole province of painters, politicians and news anchors. But perhaps their biggest sin, which is also the central point of the chapter, is pointing out that seemingly insurmountable problems often have cheap and simple solutions. Hence world hunger was largely conquered not by a massive effort at population control, but by the development of new and sturdier strains of wheat and rice. Hence infection and mortality rates in hospitals declined dramatically as doctors began to appreciate the need to wash their hands. Hence, too, it may well be that global warming is best tackled with a variety of cheap fixes, if not by pumping SO2 into the stratosphere then perhaps by seeding more clouds over the ocean. Alternatively, as “SuperFreakonomics” suggests, we might be better off doing nothing until the state of technology can catch up to the scope of the problem. All these suggestions are, of course, horrifying to global warmists, who’d much prefer to spend in excess of a trillion dollars annually for the sake of reconceiving civilization as we know it, including not just what we drive or eat but how many children we have. And little wonder: As Newsweek’s Stefan Theil points out, “climate change is the greatest new public-spending project in decades.” Who, being a professional climatologist or EPA regulator, wouldn’t want a piece of that action? Part of the genius of Marxism, and a reason for its enduring appeal, is that it fed man’s neurotic fear of social catastrophe while providing an avenue for moral transcendence. It’s just the same with global warming, which is what makes the clear-eyed analysis in “SuperFreakonomics” so timely and important. (Now my sincere apologies to the authors for an endorsement that will surely give their critics another cartridge of ammunition.) Write to bstephens@wsj.com

Six lanes of traffic…

A long time ago came a man on a track
Walking thirty miles with a sack on his back
And he put down his load where he thought it was the best
Made a home in the wilderness
Built a cabin and a winter store
And he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore
The other travelers came walking down the track
And they never went further, no, they never went back
Then came the churches then came the schools
Then came the lawyers then came the rules
Then came the trains and the trucks with their load
And the dirty old track was the telegraph road

Then came the mines and then came the ore
Then there was the hard times then there was a war
Telegraph sang a song about the world outside
Telegraph road got so deep and so wide
Like a rolling river …

And my radio says tonight it’s gonna freeze
People driving home from the factories
Six lanes of traffic
Three lanes moving slow …

The lyrics above are from Telegraph Road , a masterpiece from Dire Straits.I am amazed at the simplicity with which Mark has put down how a civilization builds up around a point and how we as humans have a way of complicating everything around us.

In the last 13 odd years that I have been out of my home town I have the opportunity to visit and stay in various cities.Like little children I have watched them grow into puberty,youth and decay in their old.Arguably I ain’t seen enough but from what I have I can say I don’t wish to anymore.

Taking example of my own town Lucknow in which there used to be a neighborhood called Gomti Nagar has now transformed into a modern city by itself.Places where we used to cycle around,sit and chat,smoke casually without a care in the world have all become shopping Malls,Multiplexes,Hospitals,Hotels ,Schools and what not.Every time I go and visit my folks there is a deep sense of alienation as if this is not the place I grew up,these are not the people I knew,these are not the same streets and lanes I walked ……….this is not the place I want to come back to.

They say that the land prices have soared and I don’t know whether I should feel good or bad about it.Hundreds of houses have been converted into commercial spaces and the street next to my place is now a declared ‘Commercial area’ by the city municipality.Thankfully the lane we are in is still quiet and peaceful but then for how long ? As soon as money has satiated its appetite once and hunger strikes again you will have the house next door on sale to a White goods showroom.

I have seen it happening in New Delhi,Bangalore,Hyderabad and Lucknow.I don’t know how or what prompts us to indulge in this  madness.Shops,shops and then some more shops.Offices,Offices and the some more offices.Factories,Factories and the some more factories.

I remember we were once on a highway and stopped by to have some tea at a roadside stall.Everyone started commenting on the slow pace of life,the lackadaisical attitude of the farmer sitting in a corner by the tube well and how things will never change around here.While we were all animated and stressed in our conversation I just chanced to look at the face of the farmer.Peaceful,calm,contended looking far away into the eternity oblivious of our silly ranting.I think I got my answer so I stopped being a part of the debate and walked away.

In his book Zen and the art of motorcycle maintainance  Rober Pirsig asks a question -

Are we working for the factories or the factories are working for us ?

If you don’t want chilled water you don’t need a refrigerator,If you do not want to know how the world is going crazy you don’t need a TV….and these are just some smaller examples.I have tried to give up on various gadgets and I found that life goes on perfectly fine without.In fact it was better  before they ever arrived.

One of my friends is making a house up on the hill,another friend is tilling his own land and cultivating his own crop.I guess I will be building my own road very soon…..