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DISTANCE-DOORIYAN

        

       The sneaking distance … dooriyan had germinated long ago. But it had begun to flower only now. I wasn’t aware of it nor was my God. And there weren’t any signs of it either. Not even a whoosh of air. Even when the roots beneath may have been screaming about it, for a long time now. In the hope of a bright future perhaps, the venom was held back, for far too long. So, on the face of it there wasn’t even a chisel of hate. But no one knew what was brewing inside.

    He had parted long ago. Shama then, was young. And what followed was a serpentine struggle, all the way to get her children up to the root and wings in the hurricane of life. Affluence had eluded her and miseries had surrounded her. Where, I had sneaked in as her isthmus between the devil and the deep blue sea that is the horrid present and the unseen and unknown future. She kept accepting in warm grace, things I was doing for her and feigned happiness all the while in return. But the tempest was only building in her. Perhaps, she was angry with her own destiny and the person who had written it but she couldn’t have challenged him. The damning offshoots of which, she had even passed it on to her children for the final onslaught that was still to come.

    Uneasy years had flown by and her challenges had somewhat leveled. Life was beginning to smile at her again as she had almost passed the upstream. But hatred is the steepest upstream they say. And all throughout her overwhelming jinx I thought I was her steersman but she had carved me as the conman.

    For all the unpleasant things that had ripped her life, she now wanted a villain to blame squarely and that was me. Perhaps, she was blindfolded when she encountered destiny and later thought it was just another me. She delighted in praising select others for all the good things that had happened in her life and for the incorrigible turmoil and shaky vicissitudes it was me. She walked around with upbraided vanity claiming all the ancestry as she gradually passed the lethal baton to her restless children who were breathing fire.

    Time had flown in an unsurprising gush. There were murmurs one day that the villain too had parted or was he done away with. No one knew. But there were smiles and the wicked smiles all around. She had sighed in ecstasy after an eon. It was all bright and beautiful around her. As, she, had finally attained complete, unquestionable ancestry. The villain had finally gone.

    Ceremoniously her time kept ticking and with that her ambitions kept upgrading until one day Shama saw the first spectre of another villain in her life and this time it was her own grown up child.

posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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SAVE A LIFE--AN EARNEST APPEAL

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DONATE FOR AN SOS CAUSE: YOUNG WORKING PROFESSIONAL REQUIRES HEART TRANSPLANT IN AIIMS

 

SANJEEV PAHUJA, AGE 42

HEAD—ADMIN & FINANCE

RAMANUJAN EDUCATIONAL RESEARCH FOUNDATION, FARIDABAD

“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give”—WINSTON CHURCHILL

HIS CIRCUMSTANCES

   Dear Friends in the annals of life and death this could be one of the most tragic cases. Where the doctors have already communicated, we are losing Sanjeev each day unless he goes for a heart transplant. So, please donate for the sake of Sanjeev’s life. He has 2kids aged 5 and 8 years. A home maker wife and semi paralysed mother. He is the onlyearning member in the family with no ancestral backup of properties nor even a bank balance. The cost of treatment would be around 12 -15 Lacs. And, looking at the current resources it just won’t be possible for him to muster it up, all by himself. Your help is therefore vital for his survival. He has a mediclaim of approximately 2 lacs but then mediclaim companies do not pay for pre-existing diseases hence it won’t cover his existing ailment.

    Health synopsis and bank details are given below where you could send in your donations. In case of any other details please feel free to call us on 9212375383/9215201023/9971494795

HEALTH SYNOPSIS—Please spend a few moments reading about his tragic health condition

Like any other normal person. Sanjeev too was leading a healthy life till he was diagnosed of heart ailment when he was just 31 years old. After Coronary Angiography that ruled out any other ailment he was diagnosed of Symtomatic Degenerative Complete Heart Block. A dual chamber pace maker was then implanted in Escorts Hospital and Research Center, Faridabad by Cardiologist Dr. Rishi Gupta in the year 2005.

• The procedure was successful and uncomplicated.

    After this, some seven years have passed without any major complication barring some minor issues and change of medicines. In May 2012 Permanent Pacemaker replacement was done due to end of battery life in Asian Hospital Faridabad again by Dr. Rishi Gupta.

But in August 2012 he had severe chest infection and viral fever and was hospitalized where Global Hypokensia (Global hypokinesia or Global hypokinesis is a condition wherein the heart is generally very weak all over) with left ventricular failure was diagnosed. When, he was put on detailed medicine course in Asian Hospital Faridabad under Dr. Rishi Gupta.

• Two years thereafter passed with medication but it had a disturbed daily routine

    June 2014: Due to no improvement noticed in EF (ejection fraction) after medications and related complains. Permanent pacemaker was upgraded to higher version to pace both ventricles with a hope to have increased EF and better life in Medanta Hospital Gurgaon, Dr. Balbir Singh

• Condition didn’t improve significantly. Medicines were then changed for improvements.

    Health status as on April 2017: He is now diagnosed of severe global hypokinesia, dilated cardiomyopathy with EF fallen to 20%. Admitted in hospital twice in 3 months with complains of ventricle tachycardia, where heart rates increased to more than 150 bpm. Doctors have suggested for complete heart transplant. Currently, he is under treatment in AIIMs (All India Institute of Medical Sciences). A series of pre-surgery tests are being conducted under Professor (Dr) Seth.     

KINDLY DONATE AS FOLLOWS:

    So, kindly contribute asap to save his life. You could make your contributions to any of the following accounts by NET BANKING or even send your cheque in favour of any of the accounts to the following address:

Ramanujan Education & Research Foundation, third floor, Krishna Place, Ajronda, Sector 20B, Faridabad-121007

1. NAME OF ACCOUNT: RAMANUJAN DIVYANG REHABILITATION & SKILL DEVELOPMENT CENTER

          Branch          : 1037 FARIDABAD BRANCH   (IDBI BANK)

          IFSC: IBKL0001037                      

          Account No.     : 1037104000072496

2. NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

         Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

         IFSC code: BKID0006805

3. NAME OF ACCOUNT: Sanjeev Pahuja

          NAME OF BANK: ICICI

          IFSC CODE: ICIC0006303

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Stone pelters ... A few lines on Kashmir Valley

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Few lines on Kashmir Valley that is undergoing a lot of turmoil

“Gar firdaus, ruhe zamin ast, hamin asto, hamin asto, hamin ast”,

Which, translates to

“If there is ever a heaven on earth, it’s here, it’s here in Kashmir.”

*

What should have been the valley of smiles,

Has turned into a stone pelters den,

A misguided nuisance,

Not in the interest of anyone.

*

When Kashmir bleeds,

Separatists are relieved,

But when there is serene,

Separatists feel the demean.

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From valley to the mountains,

From lakes to the rivers,

From tourism to winter sports,

You have a whole lot of things.

*

Nesting in between,

Korakoram and Zanskar,

Pir Panjal and Himalyas,

And in and around,

 Hazratbal, Mata and Amarnath,

You have so much to pride and revere.

*

So, in those blessed and scenic surroundings,

What made you pick up stones?

What made you devastate your own home?

And what made you surrender to those rogues?

*

What makes you feel India is not your own,

And Pakistan is your home,

The grass is not greener on other side,

Take it from someone who is known.

*

Use the stones to build the valley,

Use the stones to preserve the valley,

Use the stones to kill the enemy,.

Use the stones to rip the separatist.

*

India is your home,

Where you’ve grown,

So leave Pakistan alone,

And fight for your throne.

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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Stone Soup

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Stone Soup

         Once upon a time a kind old stranger was walking through the forest when he came across a village. But as he entered the village he saw something very strange. The villagers were scared and started moving towards their homes, and closing their doors and windows.

    The stranger could not understand this behavior of the villagers. So he smiled and asked, ‘friends how come you all are so frightened of me. I’m just a traveler looking for a safe place to stay and a warm heart for a meal.’

    But the villagers looked at him apprehensively and said, ‘there’s not a bite to eat. The whole province is under famine. As a result we have not eaten and have grown weak and even our children are starving. So you better keep moving on.’

     ‘Oh! You needn’t worry. I have everything I need.’ He said. ‘In fact I was planning to make some stone soup to share with you all.’ And with that he pulled out an iron cauldron from his luggage and filled it with water and began to build a fire under it.

    Then, in a ceremonial fashion he drew an ordinary looking stone from a silken bag and dropped it in the water.

    This spread a rumour about food. When, most villagers came out of their homes or started watching from their windows. As the stranger sniffed the “broth” and started licking his lips in anticipation. Is, when, hunger started overcoming fear in the village. 

    ‘Wow! What a soup!’ said the stranger, ‘I love this tasty stone soup.’ And of course, stone soup with cabbage—is hard to beat.’

    Soon a villager approached hesitantly. He was holding a small cabbage he’d retrieved from his place of hiding and dropped it in the pot.

    ‘Wonderful!’ cried the stranger. ‘You know, I once had stone soup with cabbage and a bit of mutton and believe me the dish was only fit for a king."

    The village butcher managed to find some mutton and dropped it in the pot. And so the stranger went on and on. When, the villagers one by one dropped potatoes, onions, carrots, mushroom and some other vegetables and lentils until there was a sumptuous meal for everyone in the village to share.

    The villager elder offered the stranger a great deal of money for the magic stone, but he refused to sell it and decided to continue with his travel the next day.

    But as he left, the stranger came upon a group of village children standing near the road. He gave the silken bag containing the stone to the youngest child, whispering to a group, "It was not the stone, but the villagers that had performed the magic." 

Moral of the story:  There is no alternative to team work and team spirit.

*

     The story is based on Marcia Brown’s 1947 children’s book, Stone Soup 1947

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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 I knew for sure. This ever changing world around me will only keep changing. But I just didn’t know how much. Ever since, you left us, on this very day, many years ago. I have stayed off Lucknow. And after a long time I’m home around this time. Thinking, I would sight the change myself. So, on this serene and dismal morning I went out for a morning walk. Pursuing, quite the same route. That, you once frequented. And it gave me a feel as if I was following the same trail that you had left behind.

     To be frank I wasn’t surprised to see. The surroundings have really sprung up to the hilt leaving, no niche for that stilly calm. The flow of river Gomti has receded and it isn’t what it used to be in your times. It has thinned down. Like the plait of an ageing lady. The chirping Gauraiyas are nowhere to be seen. And no one knows where they have gone. Did you see them by any chance? Did they come to you? Meanwhile some Gods have grown in stature but some remain where they were. The temple of Hanuman Setu has exalted both in pomp and spirits, just like you. But the small Shivalaya near the banks has only greyed. It still emanates that salt and pepper looks. The overarching, Banyan tree there, has spread all around the Shivalay. As if, protecting, the God of the poor, residing in it. That reminded me of the days when you protected all of us.

     The chauraha has become quite psychedelic as everything out there has changed. The famous samosawalla—Phullu who had his makeshift shop in the middle of it is no more seen—the samosas are there but the walla has changed. No one knows where he has gone. Some say he is no more. One, Good Samaritan has converted her home into an institution. I wish. Many were like her.

     The chauraha gossips are no more vociferous. The morning newspapers have changed and with that even the feel. From Swatantra Bharat it is now Dainik Jagran and some others. What has grossly depleted over the years is ‘time.’ People don’t have time but enough to whine. Morals have declined.

    Even in the faint trickle and rustle of the holy river. I could hardly hear the serenading calls of the joyous koel in the colourful months of spring. That used to be so piercing earlier. It has been overtaken by the roar of the swarming vehicles thriving on the embankment. That sadly pollutes the vicinity, all along the scorching day. Lots of people walk up to the newly resurrected Mandirs, Ashrams and even a Masjid nearby for peace of mind. Perhaps, someday, their temples within, shall also rekindle to the call of the Almighty.

    Most bright children in and around have left for good. I now only find their parents whiling away their time in obsolescence. Is when, I wonder what I got from you and what I gave to my child. If the equations are not comforting peace shall always elude me.

    So much has changed over the years. Yet a few things haven’t changed. Just as, the day and night take their turns. The sun still rises and the rain comes when it has to come. Seasons too, alternate when they have to. And more importantly the chord we struck will never ever change.

    What I continue to learn from you is pillars should not change. But they should allow change.

    May, you rest in peace.

    By Kamlesh Tripathi: Homage to Babuji (K.P. Tripathi). He left us this day in 1984.

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WHATSAPP CHAT GROUP

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So much time they have—In other words a universe of a time. One chat message and there are ten responses, and then the domino effect starts—for I can’t be left behind, says the egocentric mind. I’m talking about the whatsapp group in our RWA. Where, one gets to feel as if the whole society has become a beehive—inhabited by a swarm of predatory flies. Thriving on some lethal one-upmanship—where the killing field is the chat box itself. As and when, you flag an issue. The views of members start flooding in instantaneously even when they are variegated. Normally, they display cool courtesy. Occasionally they trade nagging heat and at times they even explode. But there are many fire tenders to keep the situation under control.

    The chat moves at the speed of sound if not light. After all, it houses a powerhouse. Where, most are domain experts, some the last word, few are litterateurs and writers. Not to forget the DJs, digital and security experts, and the event managers. And needless to say that everyone is a Mr know all.

    You are constantly on guard. At the beep of those frequent chat notifications. Irrespective of the fact, whether you’re in office or in the cool confines of your home. There is always an issue at hand. Blown out of proportion by excessive interaction. Where, every member has to make a superlative comment—meri kameez tumhare kameez se ziada safedhai. Or at least you need to be in the circuit to remain relevant. So at least do send a thumbs up. The quantum of notifications is so much. That if you wish to read them all. You’ll not have time for anything else. 

    Every minute there is a notification. So it is democracy at its best. Issues could be halkaor even routine. But viewpoints need to be weighty with a tinge of metaphysics and farsightedness. Considering the legion of scholastic personalities residing in the society.

    But where will all this lead to. Frankly speaking no one knows. As most are shooting from the hip. But I guess it’s about time to lay-off for some time. To, do something more relevant, soothing and satisfying. And let the society be in the safe hands of too many cooks. Hopefully they won’t spoil the broth.

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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Rahul Gandhi and the teachings of Bhagwad Gita

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

That one man who follows Gita to the hilt is Rahul Gandhi. Can you imagine the amount of failures

he has had in his political career? Countless! I would say. Yet he sticks to his guns which is his political career. For, he truly believes in karma alone. Where, he doesn’t look for success in his deeds.

    But, can you imagine. The manner in which. India ridicules this great young man. Even, today, with the great disaster of Uttar Pradesh tied around his neck. He was busy meeting farmers from Tamil Nadu.

    So, isn’t it amazing. The way our media and citizenry ridicules him, no end. I will withdraw this post of mine. If anyone shows me a media clip praising him for his political career until now. Yet he continues undeterred. So there is much to learn from him while in adversity.

    And last but not the least. It also speaks of we Indians and how much we practice Gita. Well if you go by this analogy. You won’t find too many Indians praising him for doing his karma alone. Rather everyone is critical and even jocular about his failures. So are we practicing Gita in the true sense?

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By Kamlesh Tripathi