BOLLYWOOD, CRICKET & LOC

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

  

At times it appears the Indian Army Jawan, who fights terrorism at the Line of Control is only fighting to save his own house, but in reality he is fighting for all of us. But the tragedy with Indians is that they show no solidarity with him. Our Prime Minister preaches so much about terrorism in all international forums. But back home India is a divided and selfish lot. People from all professions are only self-centered about themselves and their professions. We don’t realise by behaving in this insensitive manner tomorrow, people may desist from fighting for the country. What will happen then? There is indeed a greater need to feel for our brave jawans and we must perennially keep their morale high. Colonel Anil Chawla puts it quite beautifully.

…………………………………….  

Col Anil Chawla, a serving soldier of the INDIAN ARMY wrote this:

    Will sending Pakistani artists back, stopping cricket and business with Pakistan actually end terror from Pakistan?

    No, it most certainly will not.

    BUT there is an emotion called solidarity.

    YOU CANNOT MAKE FILMS, PLAY CRICKET, AND DO BUSINESS AS IF EVERYTHING IS FINE, BECAUSE IT IS NOT.

    It makes the soldier wonder aloud, “Why should I alone bear the weight of conflict?”

    This conflict between India and Pakistan is not the soldier’s personal war. He is dying and killing for you and me. Imagine a situation in which the soldier felt, and behaved, like Salman Khan, Karan Johar and Mahesh Bhatt? Imagine if a soldier walked up to his superior and said, “Sir, while I am dying on the Line of Control, these people are going about as if everything is absolutely fine between the two countries.”

    Why should he alone sacrifice for India, when others were making merry?

    Patriotism and sacrifice is not the sole responsibility of the soldier.

    The United States boycotted the Moscow Olympics in 1980, and the Russians did likewise when they boycotted the Los Angeles Olympics in 1984. This is what happens when national interest is held paramount. And this is what must happen now.

    18 families have been shattered like glass … But the pain of Fawad Khan’s departure is too much to bear, it seems …”

…………………………………

Film Stars have nothing to do with terrorism…

Singers have nothing to do with terrorism ….

Writers have nothing to do with terrorism …

Directors have nothing to do with terrorism …

Performers have nothing to do with terrorism …

Journalists have nothing to do with terrorism …

Activists have nothing to do with terrorism …

Cricketers have nothing to do with terrorism …

Politicians have nothing to do with terrorism …

Businessmen have nothing to do with terrorism …

Professionals have nothing to do with terrorism …

Lawyers have nothing to do with terrorism …

Then for whom are the Jawans sacrificing their lives for?

Jai Hind.

*****

POEM: THE VILLAIN OF MY LIFE

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

THE VILLAIN OF MY LIFE

For every triumph I praised myself,

For each success I hailed myself,

But for each failure,

I never nailed myself.

*

Failures were hard to ingest,

And they were hard to digest,

And, therefore, for all my failures,

I created a villain in my life.

*

Whom I blamed fair and square,

Whom I condemned in all my nightmares,

And cursed each time I was in despair,

For all the failures that I couldn’t repair,

 

And this became a habit of distress.

*

Until one day,

In utter rage,

I killed that villain with my own umbrage,

Fearing I had created a Frankenstein,

That might return some day.

*

For, I thought, forever, my failures are over,

And my debacles are forestalled,

So villain is no more required,

But success is still awaited,

Where my final victory is only round the corner.

*

Happily I proceeded,

Despising the villain,

Amplifying myself,

But not juxtaposing with life.

*

But as life would have it,

This time a calamity struck,

Wiping out all my successes,

And bringing about my doomsday.

*

But this time I had no one to blame,

As the villain was dead,

Whom I had killed myself,

And that made me realize,

Do own up your success,

But don’t blame someone else for your mistakes.

*****

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

BREAKING RELATIONSHIP—LIKE A SUDDEN DEATH

    In our lives we all are born to a family. Where, we have our parents and our siblings. And as we grow slightly old we discover we have relatives. Where, some are close and some are distant. Over a period of time when we grow up, we even make acquaintances and friends. Gradually, some acquaintances turn out to be lifetime friends, and some remain as acquaintances.

    As a proclivity, in this arduous and long journey of life, every now and then we keep making friends and colleagues. Who, remain with us for a period of time. And then we lose them because, we all have a well defined journey, where destinations are different and paths are therefore varied.

    And in this ever changing scenario we often are out of touch with our old contacts while we form new associations. But we never really feel as if we have lost the old ones for forever. Because, heart-to-heart we know they are just round the corner, in some different company or a country or a city or a profession where we can just pick up the phone and talk to them whenever we want.

    But such is not the case when any of your close relative, friend, colleague or even an acquaintance severs his or her relationship with you or if it’s a vice versa. For, then, it’ll be like a sudden death of a relationship. And death is a point of no return. So don’t head towards the death of a relationship and even if you’re walking out leave a point of return.

*****

         

SHORT STORY: NO FOOD IN HEAVEN UNLESS YOU DONATE DURING YOUR LIFETIME

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

    In the country of Vidharbh there ruled a king by the name of Shwet. He governed his country in a very meticulously manner and his subjects were quite happy under his rule. But after a period of time the king was not enjoying all this. He felt like giving up his kingdom, and move to vairagya (renunciation). Soon, he decided to hand over the reign of his empire to his brothers, after which he left for the jungles to perform his tapasya (austere meditation). The passion and devotion with which he had governed his country all this while, prompted him to even perform his tapasiya in the same manner, and it continued for a thousand years. During that period the devotion he showed was incomparable. He was therefore sent to Brahmlok (where Lord Brahma resides) after his death. There he had all the facilities, but he never got any food to eat. And out of hunger, his senses had debilitated. When he finally couldn’t bear it, he asked Lord Brahma, ‘God!—Brahmlok is considered to be free from the pangs of hunger and thirst. But, then, why is it that I’m almost dying of it.’

    Lord Brahma replied—‘Vatsya! (Dear) In Mritulok (world of life and death) you never donated for a noble cause. Neither did you feed any hungry person. And unless you donate and feed the needy in Mritulok you will never get food in Bhramlok. The food you ate while you were alive only nourished your own body. Therefore, you can go back to Mrityulok and continue to feed on your dead body. There is no other way out for you. Your dead body shall remain there forever as your food. And after hundred years, Agasta Muni (sage) will rescue you from this state.’

    After hundred years Agasta Muni with his power of dev-yoga reached that huge jungle of hundred yojan (vedic measure of area). It was completely quiet. There was neither an animal nor a bird in it. At the centre of that jungle there was a lake. Near that Agasta Muni saw a corpse lying. He started wondering whose corpse is it and how did the person die. In the meanwhile there landed an aircraft from the sky in the lake. From that a divine looking person came out. He first entered the lake to have a bath. After which he started feeding on the corpse lying there. And after filling his stomach sumptuously, he had a good look at the face of the corpse and then started moving towards his aircraft to return to Brahmlok. Muni asked him—‘You appear to be a divine person from heaven, but your food is obnoxious.’ The dead person then told his entire story to the Muni and said, ‘my hundred years of punishment are over. But I don’t really know when I’ll get to see Agasta Muni, and, when, will he rescue me.

    Agasta muni replied—‘Divine Soul! I am Agasta Muni. Tell me, how can I help you? The divine person said –‘Since I never presented anything to anyone in my life. I want to present you with this valuable ornament. Kindly accept this and help me out.’ And the moment he accepted the ornament the corpse vanished and the divine person attained complete moksha.

    Remember if you are in a position to help someone and you don’t, it is a crime.

From Padam Puran, shristi khand

*****

NAWAZUDDIN SIDDIQUI HAS EVERY RIGHT TO ACT IN RAMLILA

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

NAWAZUDDIN SIDDIQUI HAS EVERY RIGHT TO ACT IN RAMLILA

    

By stopping Nawazuddin Siddiqui in Muzaffarnagar, from playing the role of Maaricha, uncle of Ravan, in the local Ramlila, after 20 years, Shiv Sena has stood out like a thorn in the society. Ramlila is a famous play enacted each year, all over India and even abroad. Let me for a moment juxtapose Muzaffarnagar with Lucknow on Ramlila. Both have been holding it since ages. Where, Lucknow is even more famous. For a lot of Muslim actors take part in Ramlila, and at times they even go on and on with their acting, even when they are keeping Rozas during Ramzan, if it happens to fall in the same month. 

    This intermingling is the ultimate beauty, of one and only one—India. We are no deep state, but the biggest democracy of the world. Where, Ramlila, Dushera, Durga Puja and Diwali are our tall, widespread, cultural and festive totem-poles. Ramlila is therefore our Indian-ness. That belongs, to we Indians, and not Hindus alone. Nawazuddin is our own son. Rather the worthy son of Muzaffarnagar, and now even of India, who entertains us through his movies. He was born and brought up in Muzaffarnagar. So, Shiv Sena cannot just snatch away the colourful memories of his childhood by not allowing him to act in his home theatre 20 years later. He is free to visit his childhood the way he wants in his own city. Muzaffarnagar is amassed in him, so you just can’t dig it out like that. Shiv Sena needs to understand this. And, last but not the least, you just can’t seize hold of any Indian’s Indian-ness, by just citing his religion.

Read my book 'Aadab Lucknow ... fond memories' on the culture of Hindu-Muslim amity. Download from amazon.com and Barnes and Noble.

*****

POEM: MY HEART--MY JESUS OF TIMES

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

In the eternity of lifetime,

There was seldom a downtime,

When the kind heart stopped blessing,

And the cunning tongue stopped maligning.

*

For heart was naïve,

Heart was kind,

And it was caring and forgiving,

Just like the Jesus of times,

But it had a straight tongue,

To remind about tough times and crimes.

*

Where the cunning tongue was sweet but vicious,

And had imbibed all the wickedness of times,

Just like the serenade with unheard rhymes,

And had a cunning mind,

That wanted to outlast the Jesus of times.

*

And all along in life,

When the cunning tongue was in dungeons,

Kind heart kept helping,

Kept aiding,

Kept forgiving,

Which the maligning tongue, kept loving,

In the happenings of bad times.

*

But even with all the rapturous showers in life.

Tongue had its own designs,

Of the wretched kind,

And so,

Tongue kept cribbing,

Kept maligning,

The Jesus of times.

*

But kind heart kept overlooking,

Kept forgiving and forgetting,

Cunning tongue’s venomous onslaught,

That lasted an eon of time.

*

And for the Jesus of times,

It was only heartfelt regrets,

That it had a heart of gold,

Laced with a straight tongue,

Not appreciated by times.

*

Even when it spoke for values,

For goodness,

And for virtues,

But now time was running out.

*

And kind heart had nowhere to go,

With the carcass of his straight tongue,

When the Jesus within said.

*

Fear not my child,

For you’re not as wild,

And your gracious tongue will be understood,

Only by a few,

In these dark and squalid ravines.

*

So come with me son,

Leaving behind that maligning tongue,

To its audience.

*

And remember,

What you sow you reap,

And so,

Wait for the day,

When the cunning tongue face-offs with a cunning heart.

*****

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

U & I

I was right and U were wrong,

And that brought about the storm,

Where U were the cacophony, but I was the song,

And my song alone,

Made our lives, float in the storm.

*

  But what had floated and what had drowned,

No one had any count,

For it had only become a one way war of ego,

Where I had won,

But humble U had drowned.

*

In the March-past of life,

I … was like fire and U … like water,

Where fire kept burning,

And water kept dousing.

*

And in the meanderings of a long life,

I kept insinuating,

Where U kept giving,

Which, I kept loving.

*

Until one day,

When I thought it had outflanked U,

And with that it had turned the tables,

And won the bastion,

But in all of this,

Fairness had drowned.

*

I said, U gave on your own—the riches,

And I never asked for it,

Where U felt,

To save the embarrassment,

 I needn’t ask for it.

*

U was hurt,

But I was rejoicing,

For I thought it had won,

When U had not even lost.

*

And in the toppings of life,

U couldn’t learn,

What it had learnt,

At the decline of life.

*

But now there wasn't any choice,

Thought U,

At the twilight of life,

As U walked away from I,

Into the setting sun,

Is when I rejoices to its wayward life.

*****

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