Greeting the new year with a broom

During the school times one of my teachers used to say that if someone is lazy on 1st January, he would remain lazy for the whole year. During those times we used to remain awake till midnight to feel the ushering of the New Year. The greetings were exchanged at the first available opportunity. 

Maturity makes one treat 1st January as any other day of the year. This 'New Year Day' began as usual. The alarm rang at 3.55 am. As usual it was quite a challenge to come out of the quilt and leave the bed. As usual a good amount of effort was required to accomplish the hot water bath and pack the body with double layer of clothes. As usual the Gurbani-recording was played from the phone.

While listening to the Gurbani, brooming was done in the house. This activity is seldom done by me . But who would wish to remain lazy and inactive for the whole year? Apart from that it is a heart felt desire that from 2015 onwards corruption and inefficiency should start  getting broomed out of Delhi, and then the whole Nation.

No plastic in plastic surgery

When I was small I used to think that plastic surgeons repair the skin with some pladtic.But plastic surgery has hardly got anything to do with plastic. Skin is taken from thigh or any other convenient part of the body and is grafted at the required place. Dr Balraj Singh Gill is plastic surgeon of our town. Not many people know that he is providing very highly skilled services in a sleepy town like Jagraon.

His recent case is shown in the following pictures. A young teacher suffers from burns near the armpit, arm, shoulder and the chest. Due to this she is unable to write on the black board. Doctor Gill performs the plastic surgery. The grafting of the tissues is done with high precision from the thigh along with other necessary procedures that go along with the operation.

Diet matters

Tackling obesity and acidity is a gobal issue nowadays. The dietician of the Bollywood star Karina Kapoor was Rujuta Diwekar during the days movie Tashion was being made and size zero was glamorised. Rujuata gained fame as a dietician and her book 'Don't Lose Your Mind, Lose Your Weight' taught me to have small servings of food in between the meals. It also taught me to eat moderately during the main meals. Rajiv Dixit's videos on Youtube taught me to avoid drinking water immediately before and after the meals. This helped me tackle the problem of acidity to a great extent. Friendship with Dr. Balraj Singh Gill taught me to increase vegetable content in my diet. Owing to the influence of the above persons I have positively checked the increase in my body weight and controlled the menace of acidity.
Despite all the advancement in technology we cannot share our food on internet. Nevertheless we can share our experiences for the benefit of others . I would like to share my diet content of 16-12-2014. It can be noted that there is sufficient gap before and after the meals when water was taken. With this food there wasn't any problem of acidity and I felt good throughout the day.
Water was sipped slowly at 4 am. At 4.40 am semi-liquid food (a bowl containing curd mixed with carrot and pea vegetable) was taken followed by a small piece of Jaggery. At 7 AM one small sized Parantha was eaten with carrat pea vegetable (liberally topped by Desi ghee) and a very small quantity of Daal followed by a few sips (one fourth of a tea cup) of tea. After that sipped water at 9am. At 9.45 am had Skimmed milk in a medium sized tea cup that contained one and a half table spoon of sugar, along with four salty biscuits. Sipped water at 12.30 pm.
At 1.20 pm had one small chapati and a little quantity of Pulao  with a generous mixture of vegetable followed by a very small piece of jaggery. Sipped water at 3 pm. At 3.35 pm semi liquid diet (60℅ curd mixed in 40% Pulao) followed by a cup of tea (sugar and tea leaves very mild and skimmed milk in liberal proportion). At 6.10 pm and 6.35pm sipped water.
Dinner (comprising of one Chappati, carrot and pea vegetable, a little sag and in the end Dalia sweetened by Jaggery) was had at 7.05 pm. Then water was sipped at 8.35 pm.

How a place of pilgrimage emerged

People who are driven by logic feel that faith is born out of fear and it has no materialistic value. In sharp contrast there is a school of thought that feels that faith is the only real thing whereas the world seen by our eyes is nothing more than a dream. General Sleeman was a kind of a travel blogger of his times. He possessed a scientific temperament. In the following extract, he illustrates how a place of pilgrimage took birth. The area near the Nermada river was infested by the crop diseases year after year and the people were desperate to do anything that could give them a little hope. In the end the author says that it was like a drowning man catching the straw. But the fact remains true as ever that the Indian society is driven by faith. It can be good, bad or even blind. Once faith is taken out, there would hardly be anything left in the society.

General Sleeman writes:- In the latter end of 1831, while I was at Sāgar, a cowherd in driving his cattle to water at a reach of the Biās river, called the Nardhardhār, near the little village of Jasrathī, was reported to have seen a vision that told him that the waters of that reach, taken up and conveyed to the fields in pitchers, would effectually keep off the blight from wheat, provided the pitchers were not suffered to touch the ground on the way. On reaching the field, a small hole was to be made in the bottom of the pitcher, so as to keep up a small but steady stream, as the bearer carried it round the borders of the field, that the water might fall in a complete ring, except at a small opening—which was to be kept dry, in order that the monster or demon blight might make his escape through it, not being able to cross over any part watered by the holy stream. The waters Of the Bias river generally are not supposed to have any peculiar virtues. The report of this vision spread rapidly over the country; and the people who had been suffering under so many seasons of great calamity were anxious to try anything that promised the slightest chance of relief. Every cultivator of the district prepared pots for the conveyance of the water, with tripods to support them while they rested on the road, that they might not touch the ground. The spot pointed out for taking the water was immediately under a fine large pīpal- tree which had fallen into the river, and on each bank was seated a Bairāgī, or priest of Vishnu. The blight began to manifest itself in the alsī (linseed) in January, 1832, but the wheat is never considered to be in danger till late in February, when it is nearly ripe; and during that month and the following the banks of the river were crowded with people in search of the water. Some of the people came more than one hundred miles to fetch it, and all seemed quite sure that the holy water would save them. Each person gave the Bairāgī priest of his own side of the river two half-pence (copper pice), two pice weight of ghī (clarified butter), and two pounds of flour, before he filled his pitcher, to secure his blessings from it. These priests were strangers, and the offerings were entirely voluntary. The roads from this reach of the Bias river, up to the capital of the Orchhā Rājā, more than a hundred miles, were literally lined with these water-carriers; and I estimated the number of persons who passed with the water every day for six weeks at ten thousand a day. After they had ceased to take the water, the banks were long crowded with people who flocked to see the place where priests and waters had worked such miracles, and to try and discover the source whence the water derived its virtues. It was remarked by some that the pīpal-tree, which had fallen from the bank above many years before, had still continued to throw out the richest foliage from the branches above the surface of the water. Others declared that they saw a monkey on the bank near the spot, which no sooner perceived it was observed than it plunged into the stream and disappeared. Others again saw some flights of steps under the water, indicating that it had in days of yore been the site of a temple, whose god, no doubt, gave to the waters the wonderful virtues it had been found to possess. The priests would say nothing but that 'it was the work of God, and, like all his works, beyond the reach of man's understanding.' They made their fortunes, and got up the vision and miracle, no doubt, for that especial purpose. As to the effect, I was told by hundreds of farmers who had tried the waters that, though it had not anywhere kept the blight entirely off from the wheat, it was found that the fields which had not the advantages of water were entirely destroyed; and, where the pot had been taken all round the field without leaving any dry opening for the demon to escape through, it was almost as bad; but, when a small opening had been left, and the water carefully dropped around the field elsewhere, the crops had been very little injured; which showed clearly the efficacy of the water, when all the ceremonies and observances ; which prescribed by the vision had been attended to.

I could never find the cowherd who was said to have seen this vision, and, in speaking to my old friend, the Sadr Amīn, learned in the shāstras, on the subject, I told him that we had a short saying that would explain all this: 'A drowning man catches at a straw.'

'Yes,' said he, without any hesitation, 'and we have another just as good for the occasion: "Sheep will follow each other, though it should be into a well".'

An evening at Celebration Garden

It is 7pm and we are at the Celebration Gardens. It is really a huge marriage palace with very large gardens with a massive parking facility. The bushes and plants are besutified by coloured bulbs. It is adorned by exotic plants. The water fountain is beautified with the coloured lights. There is fine art work of white marble tastefully placed amidst the lawns. The lighting is tastefully made. Food stalls are numerous and very spaciously arranged. The fragrance and the aroma is to be experienced to be believed. While being at this place, who would believe that it is in the vicinity of Jagraon, an ordinary town of Punjab. It would not be any wonder if a person mistakes the moments spent here with any place that is the best in the world. The washrooms may belittle the elegance of even the five star hotels.

We are invited by Jain Parivar who are our family friends. Their daughter's marriage would by solemnised with the groom of a Bansal Parivar of Kotkapura. Mrs Jain was a class fellow of my better half during her college days. Their son Kirti Jain is my younger son's class mate in the DAV school. Kirti Jain is also my student at my evening tuition class.

The weather is very pleasantly cool. The air is rich in freshness. The marriage function would go on through out the night unlike the weddings in the Sikh families that take place during the day time.

The first thing I have relished is Dal Kabab and other Kabaab of various types including Mushroom Kabaab with green sauce. These were equally tasty if not more than the non vegetarian dishes that one eats. I have avoided coffee and juice of all types till now as per the advice of the famous health adviser Rajiv Dixit.

During all these snacks we met the Jain Parivar and posed for a few photographs with them. Also handed over the Shagun envelop to Mrs Jain and congrstulated her for the flawless arrangements here.

After tasting Chilli Paneer and Munchurian it is time for a little coffee.

It is 8.10 pm and the musical group is getting ready. They are setting up their instruments at the stage and the beat music is already in the air making everyone tap the foot and sway the necks a little bit. It is Englus.ih music which cannot be understood by me but the beats are great. And now it is Punjabi Music.A devotional folk song 'Bhen Nanki da Veer___mann da fakir . Nee e Jogian da Jogi Peeran da Peer'.

It is 8.40pm snd there are fireworks with the arrival of Baraat.

A few bouncers with bulging muscles are also moving about. These dsys the musical parties also hire bouncers. Normally one stands one each end of the stage. It is said that each one is paid about Rs 2000 for a few hours of his presence. It ensures discipline during the function.

It is again English music. Beats are fine but wordings are all Greek. The photographers are using a crane for photography. The reach of the crane is roughly thirty meters in radius. The stage lights have a bluish hue.

It is 9.05 and we visited the juice bar and had Mango Shake ang Guava juice. While returning back to our table about half a dozen class fellows of Sewapreet greeted us in the Punjabi style. It is bending as though touching our feet and we place our hands on their shoulders. The music is still western and the tune is somewhat similar to 'Gangnam Style'.

Very few women are in Saris. Others are in Salwar suits. Unmarried girs are in Jeans, Lehngas or Pajami Suits. The menfolk who are relatives are in three piece suits. There are about fifteen turbaned Sardars including me. The number of boozers in the party are very few and just about one smoker. The total crowd could be around 800.

It is 9.30 pm and Bhangra is in full swing on Punjabi beat songs. There are two computer screens almost as big as a cinema screen of the older times and a few more big size screens. Bhangra songs sung by slim Sardars on the screen are making the hearts dance.

It is about 9.50 pm now. We have had light dinner. The dancing party has about twenty models with about half females with zero size figures. Their feet seem to fly on the stage. Half the artists are in Bhangra dress to match the Punjabi beats. One slim girl is in shorts and  another is in Jeans. They are swaying and jumping on the stage and making the crowd envious of their perfect figures. It is said that a dancing model charges about three lakh rupees per season from the group owner. The model in Punjabi suit seem to be master of waist swinging. Among the crowd some young women are doing a Gidha type dance in sarees. It is a strange but very lovely combination. 

It is about 10.10 pm.The bride and the bridegroom are being made to take their seats on a different stage which is on the right side.
It is 10.20 pm and the Bhangea team is back on the stage. 'Jithon marji wanga gharwa lain ne mitran da naa chaldaj'. It is all Punjabi now. Lot of bust shaking by the female artists on the stage. Gidha dance by exceptionally beautiful sari clad young woman is exceptionally charming. The bride and the bride groom also danced gracefully at the dancing floor. They were looking like a prince and a princess. It is 11 pm and we are in our car ready to leave after another cup of coffee.
We are back at home at about 11. 20 pm. It was a marvellous and a very speacial evening.

Blessings on behalf of the dumb creatures

A pair of pigeons appeared to be fighting in our courtyard. Two of my students who were present there tried to separate them but in vain. It appeared as if one had caught hold of the other's paw with its beaks and was not letting it go.

I too joined the boys in ending the fight. But the pair managed to go away a little bit with their combined effort. The boys realised that they were not fighting. Rather they were badly entangled by the string with which kites are flown. The plight of the birds was pitiable.

We implored one another to catch the birds and cut the strings. All of us shied from doing so. Had there been a boy from the village side, he wouldn't have thought twice before carrying out the relief operation. At last one of the students mustered courage and caught them. The other cut the string. My contribution was little. I had given them the scissors and also made a video.
I blessed the boys on behalf of the birds and said, "May God cut your fetters too in the difficult situations just as you have cut the entanglements of the poor birds!."

Char Sahibzade - a movie review

Char Sahibzade is an animated movie that describes the lives and struggles of the four princes of Guru Gobind Singh. The story is wonderfully directed. It has successfully touched the chords of the masses irrespective the castes and religions. Most of the audience have wet eyes in the hall. The story reaches its climax when the small boys are choked to death with the last brick while they were being laid in a wall along with the bricks. A strange way to punish anyone!

Any movie made on Sikhism has to go through the risks of running into controversies due to the hardliners in the religion. Harry Baweja, the director of the movie, has handled this extremely delicate and sensitive story in an equally delicate and sensitive way. Every person is sent to the Earth for a purpose. It seems that Harry Baweja has successfully accomplished his lifetime purpose by directing this movie. Kudos to him. May he do more such wonderful things in the future!

How I learnt a tough lesson in cooking

After getting up early in the morning at 4 am, I got a craving for cooking a curry-less vegetable (sookhi sabji). After the bath, I cut a lot of carrots and potatoes. I put some water in the cooker and kept it on the flame. Simultaneously I kept on adding the cut vegetable. Half way through I put salt, green chillies and turmeric. Then I added some more water and continued with the cutting and adding part. Lastly I cut a few tomatoes and added a little ginger. Then I closed the cooker. Little did I realise that something can go wrong when the fluid in the cooker is less. As soon as I got some burning odour I put the flame off. I remembered when my mother used to be extra careful about this. It is called 'Sabji da thalle lag jana'. It means the bottom layer of the vegetable has turned into carbon and has got struck with the cooker. At the same time I realised that I had not put any oil in the dish. So I chopped some onions, fried them in oil. I put a little more turmeric also as I thought it was less when it was added earlier. I opened the cooker and added the fried stuff into the vegetable. Before the better half woke up kitchen was made tidy as if nothing much had happened.

The vegetable was, no doubt, very tasty. But the tough part remained to be done. After the lady of the house went to her school and I was free from my coaching work, I emptied the cooker and put the "Sabji" in a serving utensil. The lower part of the cooker was all black with carbon. I cleaned and cleaned but it refused to go. Then I sat in the courtyard and carried on wrestling with the cooker in the soothing sunshine of the winter season. Still it did not show much improvement. Then again I remembered why my mother was always careful that the vegetable should never get burnt at the bottom. Then I came back in the kitchen and took a wired mesh. I sat on a Patadi (a tiny wooden seat) held the cooker between my feet and went on rubbing its bottom with my hand. I cleaned it for about half a dozen times. Atlast it became somewhat as before although not fully.

I became thoroughly exhausted. I placed the cooker back on the shelf to exhibit as though nothing much had happened.The lesson that  I have learnt is that one must go about making a 'Sookhi Sabji' (dry vegetable) in such a way that the bottom layer should never get burnt. There should always be sufficient water in the cooker when it is closed for whistling.

Queue at the ration shops

It is reported in literature by some European observers that famines in the past have been forcing people to become cannibals. The horror stories include instances where mothers devoured their own children. About a century and a half ago famines were common in India. However it is believed that even the extreme conditions of hunger could not force Indians to droop beyond a certain level. Nevertheless some mothers would become willing to give away their children to slavery. But mostly the respectable class preferred death over humiliation.  The whole family would take an overdose of opium or poison of some sort and die in one another's arms. They would do this in closed doors so as not to expose their misery to the world.

The last famine reported in India was in 1971. It was not a very severe one though. At that time the food was distributed through the ration shops. Every house hold was alloted a fixed amount of grains, sugar and the kerosene oil.

I have the experience of  standing in a queue at the ration shops. I remember standing in queue at ration depots of the armed forces as well as those regulated by the civilian authorities. I would confess that it was among the most chilling and loathesome experiences I have ever had.

Contrast in the Eastern and Western mindset

General Sleeman served in India during the British Raj around 1850 AD. He was a man of scientific approach and rational outlook. In sharp contrast he met several Indians with exactly opposite mental disposition. He acknowledged in his writings that some times the local population loved to be looked upon as clownish and irrational. It helped them pose as beggars mentally as well as materially whereby they had less fear of being plundered by anybody including their governments. The following Chapter from his book shows a sharp contrast between rational and irrational mindsets.

The Men-Tigers.

Rām Chand Rāo, commonly called the Sarīmant, chief of Deorī here overtook me. He came out from Sāgar to visit me at Dhamonī and, not reaching that place in time, came on after me. He held Deorī under the Peshwā, as the Sāgar chief held Sāgar, for the payment of the public establishments kept up by the local administration. It yielded him about ten thousand a year, and, when we took possession of the country, he got an estate in the Sāgar district, in rent-free tenure, estimated at fifteen hundred a year. This is equal to about six thousand pounds a year in England. The tastes of native gentlemen lead them always to expend the greater part of their incomes in the wages of trains of followers of all descriptions, and in horses, elephants, &c.; and labour and the subsistence of labour are about four times cheaper in India than in England. By the breaking up of public establishments, and consequent diminution of the local demand for agricultural produce, the value of land throughout all Central India, after the termination of the Mahrātha War in 1817, fell by degrees thirty per cent.; and, among the rest, that of my poor friend the Sarīmant. While I had the civil charge of the Sāgar district in 1831 I represented this case of hardship; and Government, in the spirit of liberality which has generally characterized their measures in this part of India, made up to him the difference between what he actually received and what they had intended to give him; and he has ever since felt grateful to me. He is a very small man, not more than five feet high, but he has the handsomest face I have almost ever seen, and his manners are those of the most perfect native gentleman. He came to call upon me after breakfast, and the conversation turned upon the number of people that had of late been killed by tigers between Sāgar and Deorī, his ancient capital, which lies about midway between Sāgar and the Nerbudda river.

One of his followers, who stood beside his chair, said that 'when a tiger had killed one man he was safe, for the spirit of the man rode upon his head, and guided him from all danger. The spirit knew very well that the tiger would be watched for many days at the place where he had committed the homicide, and always guided him off to some other more secure place, when he killed other men without any risk to himself. He did not exactly know why the spirit of the man should thus befriend the beast that had killed him; but', added he, 'there is a mischief inherent in spirits; and the better the man the more mischievous is his ghost, if means are not taken to put him to rest.' This is the popular and general belief throughout India; and it is supposed that the only sure mode of destroying a tiger who has killed many people is to begin by making offerings to the spirits of his victims, and thereby depriving him of their valuable services. The belief that men are turned into tigers by eating of a root is no less general throughout India.

The Sarīmant, on being asked by me what he thought of the matter, observed 'there was no doubt much truth in what the man said: but he was himself of opinion that the tigers which now infest the wood from Sāgar to Deorī were of a different kind—in fact, that they were neither more nor less than men turned into tigers—a thing which took place in the woods of Central India much more often than people were aware of. The only visible difference between the two', added the Sarīmant, 'is that the metamorphosed tiger has no tail, while the bora, or ordinary tiger, has a very long one. In the jungle about Deorī', continued he, 'there is a root, which, if a man eat of, he is converted into a tiger on the spot; and if, in this state, he can eat of another, he becomes a man again—a melancholy instance of the former of which', said he, 'occurred, I am told, in my own father's family when I was an infant. His washerman, Raghu, was, like all washermen, a great drunkard; and, being seized with a violent desire to ascertain what a man felt in the state of a tiger, he went one day to the jungle and brought home two of these roots, and desired his wife to stand by with one of them, and the instant she saw him assume the tiger shape, to thrust it into his mouth. She consented, the washerman ate his root, and became instantly a tiger; but his wife was so terrified at the sight of her husband in this shape that she ran off with the antidote in her hand. Poor old Raghu took to the woods, and there ate a good many of his old friends from neighbouring villages; but he was at last shot, and recognized from the circumstance of his having no tail. You may be quite sure,' concluded Sarīmant, 'when you hear of a tiger without a tail, that it is some unfortunate man who has eaten of that root, and of all the tigers he will be found the most mischievous.'

How my friend had satisfied himself of the truth of this story I know not, but he religiously believes it, and so do all his attendants and mine; and, out of a population of thirty thousand people in the town of Sāgar, not one would doubt the story of the washerman if he heard it.

I was one day talking with my friend the Rājā of Maihar on the road between Jubbulpore and Mirzapore, on the subject of the number of men who had been lately killed by tigers at the Katrā Pass on that road and the best means of removing the danger. 'Nothing', said the Rājā, 'could be more easy or more cheap than the destruction of these tigers, if they were of the ordinary sort; but the tigers that kill men by wholesale, as these do, are, you may be sure, men themselves converted into tigers by the force of their science, and such animals are of all the most unmanageable.'

'And how is it. Rājā Sāhib, that these men convert themselves into tigers?'

'Nothing', said he, 'is more easy than this to persons who have once acquired the science; but how they learn it, or what it is, we unlettered men know not.'

'There was once a high priest of a large temple, in this very valley of Maihar, who was in the habit of getting himself converted into a tiger by the force of this science, which he had thoroughly acquired. He had a necklace, which one of his disciples used to throw over his neck the moment the tiger's form became fully developed. He had, however, long given up the practice, and all his old disciples had gone off on their pilgrimages to distant shrines, when he was one day seized with a violent desire to take his old form of the tiger. He expressed the wish to one of his new disciples, and demanded whether he thought he might rely on his courage to stand by and put on the necklace. 'Assuredly you may', said the disciple; 'such is my faith in you, and in the God we serve, that I fear nothing.' The high priest upon this put the necklace into his hand with the requisite instructions, and forthwith began to change his form. The disciple stood trembling in every limb, till he heard him give a roar that shook the whole edifice, when he fell flat upon his face, and dropped the necklace on the floor. The tiger bounded over him, and out of the door, and infested all the roads leading to the temple for many years afterwards.'

'Do you think, Rājā Sahib, that the old high priest is one of the tigers at the Katrā Pass?''No, I do not; but I think they may be all men who have become imbued with a little too much of the high priest's science—when men once acquire this science they can't help exercising it, though it be to their own ruin, and that of others.'
'I propose', said he, 'to have the spirits that guide them propitiated by proper prayers and offerings; for the spirit of every man or woman who has been killed by a tiger rides upon his head, or runs before him, and tells him where to go to get prey, and to avoid danger. Get some of the Gonds, or wild people from the jungles, who are well skilled in these matters—give them ten or twenty rupees, and bid them go and raise a small shrine, and there sacrifice to these spirits. The Gonds will tell them that they shall on this shrine have regular worship, and good sacrifices of fowls, goats, and pigs, every year at least, if they will but relinquish their offices with the tigers and be quiet. If this is done, I pledge myself', said the Raja, 'that the tigers will soon get killed themselves, or cease from killing men. If they do not, you may be quite sure that they are not ordinary tigers, but men turned into tigers, or that the Gonds have appropriated all you gave them to their own use, instead of applying it to conciliate the spirits of the unfortunate people.'

Two states - a movie review

Chetan Bhagat wrote a few novels where he highlighted the life of top institutes of India like IIT Delhi and IIM Ahemdabad. Since millions missed these institutes as a student, they read them to satisfy their curiosity. These novels became best sellers. But the magic spell did not stop there itself. Even the movies based on these novels did a handsome business. A movie is usually a very short version of the novel. Nevertheless this movie is quite close to the script although several episodes have been omitted.

Cross cultural marriage is indeed a challenge in India. Things look silly as long as they happen to others. Most of us may turn out to be as narrow minded as the parents shown in the movie. Lastly the movie has quite rightly depicted that sex before marriage has become common in the  colleges. Particularly if they are of elite category.

Just for the sake of a blanket

A Fakir lived with his only  son in a roadside shrine in around 1840 AD. His wife and all other family members had died. Lately he bought a new blanket for himself and his child. The poor father and son were poisoned with Datura just for the sake of the blanket. The following eye witness account of the Fakir is from General Sir WH Sleeman's book ' Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official';

'I reside in my hut by the side of the road a mile and [a] half from the town, and live upon the bounty of travellers, and the people of the surrounding villages. About six weeks ago, I was sitting by the side of my shrine after saying prayers, with my only son, about ten years of age, when a man came up with his wife, his son, and his daughter, the one a little older, and the other a little younger than my boy. They baked and ate their bread near my shrine, and gave me flour enough to make two cakes. This I prepared and baked. My boy was hungry, and ate one cake and a half. I ate only half a one, for I was not hungry. I had a few days before purchased a new blanket for my boy, and it was hanging in a branch of the tree that shaded the shrine, when these people came. My son and I soon became stupefied. I saw him fall asleep, and I soon followed. I awoke again in the evening, and found myself in a pool of water. I had sense enough to crawl towards my boy. I found him still breathing, and I sat by him with his head in my lap, where he soon died. It was now evening, and I got up, and wandered about all night picking straws—I know not why. I was not yet quite sensible. During the night the wolves ate my poor boy. I heard this from travellers, and went and gathered up his bones and buried them in the shrine. I did not quite recover till the third day, when I found that some washerwomen had put me into the pool, and left me there with my head out, in hopes that this would revive me; but they had no hope of my son. I was then taken to the police of the town; but the landholders had begged me to say nothing about the poisoners, lest it might get them and their village community into trouble. The man was tall and fair, and about thirty- five; the woman short, stout, and fair, and about thirty; two of her teeth projected a good deal; the boy's eyelids were much diseased.'

A benumbing extract from General Sir WH Sleeman's book

Presently I am reading General Sir WH Sleeman's book 'Rambles and recollections of an Indian Official'. I found the following extract particularly benumbing. The incidence narrated must have occurred between 1815 and 1840 AD.

'A stout Mogul officer of noble bearing and singularly handsome countenance, on his way from the Punjab to Oudh, crossed the Ganges at Garhmuktesar Ghāt, near Meerut, to pass through Murādābād and Bareilly. He was mounted on a fine Tūrkī horse, and attended by his "khidmatgār" (butler) and groom. Soon after crossing the river, he fell in with a small party of well-dressed and modest- looking men going the same road. They accosted him in a respectful manner, and attempted to enter into conversation with him. He had heard of Thugs, and told them to be off. They smiled at his idle suspicions, and tried to remove them, but in vain. The Mogul was determined; they saw his nostrils swelling with indignation, took their leave, and followed slowly. The next morning he overtook the same number of men, but of a different appearance, all Musalmāns. They accosted him in the same respectful manner; talked of the danger of the road, and the necessity of their keeping together, and taking advantage of the protection of any mounted gentleman that happened to be going the same way. The Mogul officer said not a word in reply, resolved to have no companions on the road. They persisted—his nostrils began again to swell, and putting his hand to his sword, he bid them all be off, or he would have their heads from their shoulders. He had a bow and quiver full of arrows over his shoulders, a brace of loaded pistols in his waist-belt, and a sword by his side, and was altogether a very formidable-looking cavalier. In the evening another party that lodged in the same "sarāi" became very intimate with the butler and groom. They were going the same road; and, as the Mogul overtook them in the morning, they made their bows respectfully, and began to enter into conversation with their two friends, the groom and butler, who were coming up behind. The Mogul's nostrils began again to swell, and he bid the strangers be off. The groom and butler interceded, for their master was a grave, sedate man, and they wanted companions. All would not do, and the strangers fell in the rear. The next day, when they had got to the middle of an extensive and uninhabited plain, the Mogul in advance, and his two servants a few hundred yards behind, he came up to a party of six poor Musalmāns, sitting weeping by the side of a dead companion. They were soldiers from Lahore, on their way to Lucknow, worn down by fatigue in their anxiety to see their wives and children once more, after a long and painful service. Their companion, the hope and prop of his family, had sunk under the fatigue, and they had made a grave for him; but they were poor unlettered men, and unable to repeat the funeral service from the holy Koran-would his Highness but perform this last office for them, he would, no doubt, find his reward in this world and the next. The Mogul dismounted—the body had been placed in its proper position, with its head towards Mecca. A carpet was spread—the Mogul took off his bow and quiver, then his pistols and sword, and placed them on the ground near the body—called for water, and washed his feet, hands, and face, that he might not pronounce the holy words in an unclean state. He then knelt down and began to repeat the funeral service, in a clear, loud voice. Two of the poor soldiers knelt by him, one on each side in silence. The other four went off a few paces to beg that the butler and groom would not come so near as to interrupt the good Samaritan at his devotions.

'All being ready, one of the four, in a low undertone, gave the "jhirnī" (signal), the handkerchiefs were thrown over their necks, and in a few minutes all three—the Mogul and his servants—were dead, and lying in the grave in the usual manner, the head of one at the feet of the one below him. All the parties they had met on the road belonged to a gang of Jamāldehī Thugs, of the kingdom of Oudh. In despair of being able to win the Mogul's confidence in the usual way, and determined to have the money and jewels, which they knew he carried with him, they had adopted this plan of disarming him; dug the grave by the side of the road, in the open plain, and made a handsome young Musalmān of the party the dead soldier. The Mogul, being a very stout man, died almost without a struggle, as is usually the case with such; and his two servants made no resistance.'

Micromax 40T2820FHD 40 Inch Full HD LED Television - A product review

We got this TV via Snapdeal. The service of Snapdeal is good but nowhere near the delivery service of Flipkart. No site other than Snapdeal offered to deliver this product at Jagraon. Even for Ludhiana only Snapdeal has a delivery arrangement. So I gave some address of Ludhiana and collected it from Gati courier Ludhiana when it reached there. I paid them Rs 25835 as it was cash on Delivery. We carried it to our house on our Alto car.

We switched it ON by our own efforts but the proper installation was done by the company official. Customer is required to just send an sms to the company after receiving the product. Since we have an PS3 attached with our TV, it can be connected to internet also. All the memory of PS3 which is several hundred of GB becomes the memory of the TV. My son made his phone act as a local media server. He could play all his media files on the TV as the PS3 gets connected by the LAN and shows the files on the screen. Over all the purchase was very satisfactory.

Would not give a review for the movie 'Haider' - a thought

Watching a movie on our Tab may not be ethical. On the top of it trying to criticize a movie for which we have not paid anything can hardly be ethical. I saw the Bollywood movie 'Haider' which I got  via the Application called 'Superbeam' from my elder son. He is here with us to celebrate Diwali.

The movie was above 700 mb. I would refrain from passing comments any further as I have not watched it at any cinema hall or via 'Movie on demand' plan of Dish TV. Hopefully in the future there would be some scheme where movies would be directly released over the internet for some nominal amount.

Drifting by Providence - a thought

If a politician is late by a few hours it is often joked that he is punctual as per the Indian Standard time. However for me 5 pm had always meant exactly 5 pm. Several times I reach at social or religious functions before all others. But it is not the same for most of the people of my country. Here 5 pm can easily mean 7 pm. Very rarely do I meet a person who is particular about the exactness of time.

A part of me feels that it is a kind of shortcoming in me. On several occasions, I have been driving my car or motorcycle unusually fast to keep up with the comittment of time. I am thankful to God who has been saving me from accidents all along.

From today onwards I resolve not to take time related commitments seriously. In the first place I would try not to commit any fixed time to anybody at all. Moreover my body is not as strong as it used to be earlier. I must allow myself some relaxation. I hope it would do no harm to anyone as it is absolutely fine to be late in our culture.

Yesterday someone from the neighbourhood asked me to attend the Antim Ardas (Last prayers after death) of his father-in-law at village Hans Kalan which is about 20 km from my place. In Punjab a grand feast is organised if the senior most person of a family passes away. Firstly a person is treated with Pakoras and sweets of all kinds along with tea and coffee. After the prayer session there is a lunch that includes the best of vegetarian dishes. I assured the gentleman that I would be present at the occasion. But today I cannot attend the function for a couple of reasons. I am feeling helpless with a lowered self esteem. Seldom do I make false promises like that. But from now onwards I would take my words and promises a bit lightly. After all age has started showing on my physical strength. It may not always allow me to honour my words all the time.

{ He plans to go towards the West but Providence drifts him towards the East - Guru Arjun Dev }

Cold shoulder - an experience

Dear reader, thank you in advance for finding time to read this. Today I would like to share someting which may reflect a lot of weakness within me also.

It rarely happens that a person feels unhappy after shaking hand with someone. But today it happened to me. It is quarter past nine now and about half an hour ago I went to a grocery shop in the vicinity. While returning I came across a person whom I saw after a gap of more than two years. This person had been quite friendly to me a few years ago. But for the last two and half years, he has started behaving very indifferently for no apparent reason. As I came near him today, he tried his best to ignore me. However, I persisted on making an eye contact and said 'Hello'.Then I went forward for a hand shake too. After all what does a warm greeting cost a person?

But the hand shake was as chilled as ice and the greeting I received lacked feeling. It was quite artificial, stale and unfriendly. What a bad taste it left within me! How I wish I too had ignored him! 

Dear reader, a person needs to be thick skinned nowadays. May God bless the one who gave me a cold shoulder today.

A Soldier's Experience by T Gowing - a book review

'A Soldier's experience' by T Gowing is a personal narrative, collection of letters, biography of some soldiers plus a lot of information pertaining to military establishment. I read his personal narrative along with the collection of letters that he wrote to his parents from the battle field.

The book has been written with a lot of patriotic fervour. Despite that the narration is unbiased. The first part of the story is from the war against Russia and the second part is related to his stay in India. Out of his ten children born in India, only two survived. Six died in a single day due to Cholera. The letter he writes to his parents to break the sad news reflects the brave heart of a soldier. After reading a few books related to soldiers, I have concluded that human life was very cheap in those days. Deaths due to diseases were very common and thousands died on the battle field only to be forgotten soon. Death of a few hundred or a few thousand people hardly created any stir anywhere.

The mutiny of 1857 is a lot different if it is seen from the English perspective. Hundreds of English women were reported to be dishonoured and killed in Kanpur. Even children and infants were not spared. Some say that the mutineers believed that the seed of an enemy should never be spared. Long ago a resident of Kanpur was our guest at NOIDA. He had a firm believe in this policy and according to him it was taught by the political Legend Chanakya. Anyway, the massacre perpetrated by the forces of Nana Sahib infuriated the Britons and they avenged every drop of blood of women and children that was shed at Kanpur.

The author is full of praise for bayonet. According to him it is the queen of weapons. He has described several battles were the tables were turned by the use of bayonets, 'the cold steel' as he often called it.

This book can be downloaded from the following link   http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46989

Ten years in India - a book review

The autobiography of soldiers often make a very interesting reading. But 'Ten years in India and three years in Africa' was slightly short of expectations. It is mainly because the author WJD Gould had only a half baked knowledge of our country. He was in India in the middle of the nineteenth century. Sometimes it appears that the writer is hiding something from the readers. Usually the soldiers go on a rampage and indulge in looting after the fall of their enemy. This aspect is not disclosed at all. Perhaps it is to show the British army in perfect light. Still the book is worth reading. It can be downloaded from the following link https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/46823

HP 10 inch tablet - a product review

HP has newly entered the tablet market. Being an experienced company in the field of computers, it has put in the right blend of features inorder to deliver seamless performance. A very powerful camera for a small screen device isn't of much use. Similarly, loading a tablet with the phone calling features would only sap out its power.It is, therefore, important that a device should possess features that are in perfect tune with the hardware and the efficiency of the microprocessor. The 10 inch tablet of HP has the latest chip set from broadcom. The tablet is priced at 13000k which is nearly half the price of other branded tabs. I purchased it via flipkart yesterday. The delivery of flipkart is unmatched. The tablet is a fine piece of technology. Camera etc are of lesser power but that is justified as the real power of a tab is in its screen. The performance of camera is also  okay if there is sufficient light. The tab runs without any lag. There is no phone calling feature. Afterall who would use a ten inch device for calling? Only the data of a 3g sim is used. It supports external SD card up to 32 GB. The card needs to be inserted when the device is on and has to be rebooted after that. The USB port can be used for connecting a pen drive. However one has to purchase the OTG cable from the market for making that work. Since whatsapp does not support data only tablets, the application has to be installed using small tricks which can be easily known by googling. The net speed is excellent. The sim that  had problems catching signals on my phone runs with extra swiftness on the tab. The wifi hot spot can be used by all the family members as it is very efficient. The operating system becomes 4.1.2 Jellybean after updation.

The 10 inch tabs are poised to replace the bags of the students in the future. A few years ago the government of India launched an extra cheap tablet called Akash. The project did not click. But the HP 10 inch tab is excellent for reading PDF files and ebooks. Maybe the  elite schools of the country would start teaching by such devices soon. Overall it was a very satisfactory purchase.

Experimenting with truth via equation of eggs - a short essay

Gandhiji, the father of the nation,  experimented with truth. If he ever told a lie he admitted it frankly. But such a type of truth is called physical truth. Carving out nations, kingdoms and taking interest in political affairs is much outside the domain of subtle truth which we call as metaphysical truth. For this reason all his experiments eventually earned him a bullet by one of his co-religionist. The nation bled profusely due to partition. He propogated the theory of non-violence. Ironically the pursuit of self rule by non violent means gave the nation 1947 which witnessed one of the most violent times in the history of mankind. His countrymen inscribed his picture on the currency notes that are again much outside the domain of ultimate truth. There has hardly been anyone in the country who inscribed his principles on his heart. Arvind Kejriwal is an exception but the countrymen find it easier to ignore him and go along with spineless guys desperate to run the show.

Gandhiji is my hero. He was a brave man of firm convictions. It is better to die experimenting with truth than live shamelessly with falsehood. His experiments did not go waste. Some of the wonderful things one learns from his life are as follows:
1- Means are more important than ends. Many a times journey is more valuable than the destination.
2- If someone lives by a sword he only dies by a sword. He fought for freedom in a non violent way. The only reason why the nation is still surviving is because it was based on the principles of truth and nonviolence.
3- The journey of metaphysical or ultimate truth is impossible without practising physical truth of which Gandhiji was a champion.

Jains of Jagraon are strict vegetarians like Gandhiji. The other day I was telling my students who belong to Jain community that telling a lie is equivalent to eating two eggs. They were asked to read ten pages from their history book each day. They were told that if they failed to do so, they ought to tell honestly and pay a fine of Rs ten for each day the reading is not done. If they tell a lie, it would be like eating a non-vegetarian dish.

Another Sunday - A short essay

Ysterday was Sunday. We had a breakfast party at Satti Halwai's shop. It was to celebrate the finishing of the September exams of the tenth class students. My younger son is one among them.

In Jagraon there are shops which are famous for one particular dish. Ashoki is famous for Samosas. He has made a fortune by selling them. He is considered to be among the richest persons of the town. Similarly Satti Halwaii is famous for his Poories made on Sunday mornings. He provides three types of curry dishes along with them. One is Cholle. Another is Palak Kofta and the third one is potato curry. Besides there is Chuttney as well. The curries are spiced to an extreme degree. In one plate there are three poories. One can get the curries second time without any extra payment. Also if extra Poories are taken there would be curries along with them. One plate costs Rs 40. Several families of the town do not prepare breakfast on Sundays. They carry the Poories of Satti to their house. Some do not have lunch after that. They only eat dinner along with some curry that is saved during the morning. So they only prepare chapatties at night. I had asked my students to eat as much as they wanted. Since the curries are too spicy one can hardly eat more than five Poories.

I had wanted to go there with a hungry stomach. But my stomach was quite full when I reached at the old Dana Mandi restaurant of Satti at 9 AM. I get up at 4 AM. It is difficult for me to remain hungry till 9 AM. At 6 AM, I had eaten three loaves of bread with Desi ghee and lemon tea. At 7.30 AM my wife cooked Dhoklas for the breakfast. I had a sufficient quantity of that also. As a result I was hardly having any appetite when I reached Satti's shop.  Nevertheless the smell aroused the hunger once again. I ate four Poories. Before the party started two of my students paid their tuition fees to me.

Then the students came to my house. We had tea at my place. The boys played video games along with my son who is their classmate. After that there was a Chess tournament in which I lost in the first round itself.

We had a plan to do a video recording of the students doing Bhangra but it was cancelled. Who can perform Bhangra with Poories in the stomach? The boys left our place at noon.

The lunch that I had yesterday was frugal due to the heavy breakfast of Poories. After that I slept till 4 pm.

At around 5 pm, we ate a South Indian dish called Poha. During that time I got a call from some sales girl of Meritnation. These people call once in a few months to ask if we have any problem using their website. We are their customers for the last two years. I suggested her that their website lacked interaction with the students. They need to have some forum at the social media where the students can have discussions with each other and the teacher.

In the evening we had a brain storming session regarding the tablet that we should buy through flipkart. My elder son who is pursuing MBBS at Bhatinda also gave valuable suggestions on phone. Finally we decided to place an order for the 10 inch Tablet of HP. Before ordering we did a short prayer. We usually do that way while purchasing valuable items.

When it was dark all of us  recited the name of God for ten minutes. We were four. Myself, my wife, our younger son and the daughter of my wife's younger sister. She often stays with us as she is doing BSc from the Science college Jagraon. She is in the third year now. She goes back to her village whenever there are holidays and vacations. We sat together for reciting the name of God We usually have this prayer session every Sunday. Although it is only for ten minutes, it provides an environment of tranquillity to the house.

After that I realised that banks would remain closed for a couple of days due to festivals and the September closing. To keep the purse loaded with some cash l went to the ATM along with my younger son on Activa scooter. Small towns have very poor street lights. At most places there aren't any at all. Usually we do not venture out after dark. We went only to fetch some money lest there should be shortage for the house hold expenses. Since we had stepped out of the house we also went to the Easy Day Mall to buy some kitchen provisions. We had been buying Shakti Bhog Atta for some time as there was an offer of half a Kg Basmati rice on the purchase of a 10 Kg packet. The scheme was probably over. So we bought another brand. Easyday has recently installed a wireless machine to swipe the card. It is very convenient now. Earlier the wired one was quite messy.

We came back and had our dinner. We went to sleep at around 8 pm. Thus passed another Sunday of my life.

41 years in India - A book review

Any story which is based on true experiences become interesting. On the top of it if the narration is more than a century old it develops a unique taste. It took me nearly two months to read the book '41 years in India' by Earl Frederick Sleigh Roberts. In appreciation of the book I would say that for two months there was no problem passing the free time in a useful way.

Roberts was one of the most successful military commanders of his times. His narration of India seem most candid and interesting. The flow language and the story as a whole is excellent. The details are mentioned with great accuracy. One is flooded with the knowledge of the British Raj after reading this book.

The ebook can be downloaded from the following link
http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16528

The recommended format is epub and the recommended application for reading on the android devices is 'Flyte ebooks'.

The story of my Life by Helen Keller - a book review

It is hard to imagine life of a person who is both deaf and blind. It would be something like groping in total darkness akin to being in a deep, dark well with deadly silence. If God wishes even such a person would have her soul out of that dreadful well. Not only that her soul would fly and feel the beauties of meadows and the sky and even beyond that. 'The story of my life' by Helen Keller is part of the syllabus of class tenth where my younger son is studying. I read the story to explain it to him and his friends but now I am finding it difficult to express it in words.

Helen was born in 1880. She lost her hearing and sight due to some fever when she was merely nineteen months old.

With the aid of her teachers and the books written in Braille, her soul got enlightened as much or even more than those who can hear and see. She with her limited faculties experienced and lived her life to the full. She was the first person of her kind to be a graduate. According to her acquiring education without feeling  is like being deaf to the harmonies of nature. The richness of her vocabulary, expression and thoughts is amazing and most likely to dwarf the able bodied reader in his own eyes.

What one may not see with his eyes and hear with his ears she could feel with her hands. At times smell alone guided her ways. Despite her deprivations she had read a vast number of books and imbibed their essence into her soul.

Her enriched soul is such an inspiration that we should never at any time get depressed and discontentful in our life.

The immortal kids of the literary world.

A boy having long hair puts a strange question to his mother, "Why am I so dark cloured mother?"
To tell the boy that it was due to his grazing the cows in the sunshine could have been counter productive. So the mother says, "Not at all. You are so very normal."
" But mother, why the girl who lives around the corner of the street is fair like a fairy while I am almost black?", asks the boy unappeased by her reply.
"When you were very small you had a black thread around your waist for your clothing. Nowadays you keep a black blanket  over your shoulders. Possibly these things have rendered a hue of darkness to you. Or may be it is because you were born on a pitch dark night. But there is no need to take the complexion so seriously as is not at all black but merely a shade or two darker than others."
When the boy was still not satisfied the mother says, "Now whether you believe it or not the damsel you are talking about is, no doubt, fair but she has got dark black eyes upon which she applies black Kajjra powder. And from those black eyes she has casted a black spell upon you turning you black." With this reply she leaves the matter fully settled.

Above is the theme of a popular bhajan from the Bollywood movie 'Satyam Shivam Sundaram'.
Now let us talk about Hamid, a child character created by Prem Chand.
Hamid is an orphan. He visits the Id fare with just three paise given by his grandmother. This boy is far too mature for his tender age just as most other orphans tend to become. He sees no fun in joyrides. He cannot afford them is a different matter though. Neither is he taken in by toys made up of sugar crystals. A toy soldier, a barrister with black coat and a Bishti (the water deliverer) also fail to impress him. He considers such stuff a sheer wastage of hard earned money although a corner of his heart desperately wants to own them. By any means he cannot strike a deal as they are much beyond his budget. Finally through hard negotiation he purchases a pair of tongs. The boys try to downgrade his prized item while on their way back home. But our hero has a smart salesman within him. He throws his tong on the ground and challenges others to put their toys to such a test. The tide changes and all the little ones get attracted to the pair of tongs. "It is a multipurpose thing friends. If attacked by a baddie it can act as a weapon. No doubt one can play also with it by making the two ends strike with each other. In this way a music can be created." The other children start fancing his merchandise. They requested him to exchange their toys with his tongs for a little while. Hamid agrees to their proposal and gets the pleasure of touching and feeling all other toys turn by turn. Before reaching home most of the fancy toys get either broken or distorted. But Hamids mighty pair of tongs is in full glory. Hamid's grandmother was brimmed with affection when she learns that her grandson has bought a tool which could make her easy to make fire without burning fingers.

Tom is yet another child character. He is the creation of the story writer Mark Twain.

Tom's spirits are dampened when on a fine holiday morning he is asked to whitewash the entire boundary of the hutment. He puts a brave face and starts brushing the wall ignoring his friends who were out for playing. He declines the request of others to try their hand on such an unusual activity. Tom relents only after making a hard bargain and gives them a chance turn by turn. While tom sits under the shade of a tree with the bargained things like apple oranges, broken toys etc, his friends whitewash the fence two times over and stop only when the whole of the whitewashing material is finished. It is all over in such a short time and Tom still has the whole day before him for fun and enjoyment. Thus he discovers a very important aspect of human nature where a thing can be made extremely coveted if it is made difficult to attain. Had he requested his friends to help him in his task, he could have only got their smirks and jeers. With a tactful approach he wins their labour as well as their eatables and toys.

Sharp turns in terms of diet

Protiens start doing more harm than good when a person approaches fifty years of age. This trouble is comparatively more with men as compared to women. People with lean bodies may also be less prone to uric acid related issues caused by a protein rich diet.

The vegetables that a young boy hates the most are Gheea, Sitaphal, Ramtori, Tinda etc. Normally children become annoyed when they learn that their mothers have cooked Kaddu for them. But strangely enough these are the best for people nearing fifty. A teenager prefers Rajma. Moongi Chana dal, Masoor dal, Kalachana masala or Kabuli Chana masala. It is all because protiens are body builders and he needs them immensely.

Some people in rural Punjab tend to put their bodies on drugs like opium or poppy husk to deal with the health related issues. That causes a huge weight loss and the problems seem to get subsided . But that method takes away all the glow from their faces along with the respect in society. Moreover a person enslaves himself to his daily requirement of the dosage of the drug. Withdrawl is out of question in most cases.

When most of the things tend to become harmful for health one has to choose between the less harmful ones over the more harmful ones. According to me eating Chapati with a bit of Desi ghee and Achar (pickle) is better than eating with Dal in case there is no vegitable dish in the house. A slight amount of Gurr or sugar after the meal gives a feeling of fulfillmeant when the diet is frugal. Although both Ghee and sugar are not very good for an aging person but usually overtake of protein is the least desirable thing. There is no denying the fact that diet requirement varies according to a person"s body composition but in general the reqirement of protein declines considerably when a person nears fifty. What a sharp turn in terms of diet a person has to take at this age !

The changing pace of the love stories

The hero is all alone in his Dak Banglow. He is very young, just a little above the age of boyhood. It is the monsoon season at a very remote village. He hardly has any work. He is all alone. It keeps raining heavily most of the time because the place is in  Bengal. There is an orphan girl to help him in his odd jobs. She helps him in cooking, preparing his bath, making Chapatis and even preparing his smoking pipe. Once when he had fever she pressed his forehead and tended  him very delicately in a way that is typical of a loving and caring girl. He tells the stories of his family to her and she tells about her parents although she is an orphan now. But despite the long rainy season and such conducive environment, they had no physical relationship. The boy seeks transfer to his hometown. Upon rejection of his application he resigns. He parts away leaving the girl emotionally pregnant. She weeps and sobs upon separating from her hero whereas the hero consoles himself for the emotional pain inflicted uoon the heroine by musing that partings and meetings keep taking place even in the nature. The river meets the sea, day meets the night etc. Similarly the river departs from the mountains, distributaries part away from the river, so on and so forth. Thus it is natural for humans also to keep meeting and parting.

The above is the theme of the story 'The postmaster' witten by Rabinder Nath Tagore about a century ago. We note that the hero had an amazingly sound character.

Now let us move half a century forward. There was a movie called Aradhna sometime in the early seventies. The hero gets just one monsoon night to spend with the heroine per chance of fate. He is aware that he can err. He sings, "Bhool koi hamse naa ho jaye (may I not make a mistake)." But he definitely makes a mistake and impregnates the heroine physically in the real sense of the word.

Moving a few decades still further to the present times, we observe a sea  change in the affairs. A boy and a girl do not need any solitude of any type during rainy season along with the thunder of the clouds and lightening in the sky flashing in the back ground etc. One good mobile phone with internet connectivity is sufficient for ninety percent of the intercourse to take place. That too without any hassle of impregnation of any sort.

Holiday - a movie review

'Holiday' is not a boring movie. It is not very interesting either. The most amazing thing is Akshay Kumar's spring like body despite his age. Unlike us these heroes seem to be immune to old age. Sonakshi Sinha is a buxom beauty. Normally we have strong heroes and slender heroines. She is quite an exception. How long she would be able to retain her heavy duty charm in the industry is yet to be seen.

Music of the film is forgotten as soon as it is over. The photography lacks depth. Over bright colours often make a movie look very artificial.

Mobile phone conferencing and the blue tooth technology is a part of the plot. Other movies should also follow the suit as it has become an inseparable part of our lives. The phone carried by the hero, however, is not the latest one. The viewers expect the hero to have atleast some good quality Android phone rather than a basic camera phone that even the children have discarded.

The collective image of the muslims seem to have reached a critical level in the bollywood. The film directors do not even think twice before depicting a muslim as the head of a terrorist gang. To escape criticism they give some positive shade to one or two muslim characters.

Watching these types of movies may encourage the children to join the Indian Army. The young minds ought to know that there is a sea of difference between the real life and the reel life.

This movie can be watched with the family but only if there isn't any other option of spending free time.

Preventive fence against immature relationships

How would one feel when his son studying in the tenth grade wants a sad song? There is a bollywood song 'Ye duniya, ye mehfil mere kaam ki nahin' (This world and this gathering is of no use to me )? It is from the movie Heer Ranjha. Today morning my son came to me and asked for getting it downloaded for him. In a few minutes he got it in his mobile phone via bluetooth.

The dwindling sex ratio across the country has made it really tough for the boys to court girls. Moreover the girls nowadays want boys who have a stylish hair cut and a gym toned body. Boys with Pagris are most likely to be left aside. In my opinion it is a boon in disguise. Tenth grade is not the time when one should be selecting a life partner. It is better to be left out for some time and remain focussed on the career.

Once I asked a group of girls of grade ten regarding what type of husband they would prefer in their lives. Some said, "with French cut beard" and some said, "clean shaven". I asked them if they would like to marry a Sardar with a Pagri. "No sir. Who would wash the Pagri for them?"

When I studied in the eleventh class in 1982-83 batch there were merely five girls in our class of approximately thirty students. Imagine the competetion when the harmones are perpetually violent like a Tsunami wave. Apart from that, a bearded Sardar like me had the least chance of being sought by any pretty girl. During those times l also loved singing the same song, "Ye duniya ye mehfil_____"

Now I would say that my beard and my Pugree acted as a good preventive fence when one is most likely to fall wrongly into an immature relationship.

The vanishing grey hair

Some say that the grey hair speak obout the maturity of a person. Such people often quote an Indian saying, "Maine ye baal dhoop main safed nahi kiye hain" (My hair haven't become grey due to the sunshine). They mean to say that they have the experience of life. Some people say that the grey hair are a calling from God. The God says that the timespan of life is running out. Once I heard my cousin say that these are letters from God. If we dye them we are distorting the God's command. Once during a casual discussion amongst the teachers in a technical college I was asked why some people get grey beard faster than the others. In a lighter vein I replied, " The grey hair of our beards are indicators of the expended charge of our sexual battery. Moreover if we remain true to one woman our electrical connections are robost. If a person keeps changing the connections every now and then, there occurs  an arc in our body's electric system and the beard becomes grey faster". Further jokingly I added that moustache becomes grey faster if a person tells more  lies than others and the hair of the head grey faster due to tensions and worries."

When I was employed in Delhi, I used to tie my beard using a hair fixer. Sometimes I feel that the lower part of my beard became grey faster than the upper part due to this imprisonment of the hair. However,  If I compare the greying of my beard with the people of my age it shows that my currents are draining at a very normal rate.

In the seventies when I was a school going boy, the society appeared to be less pretentious. Many people wore grey hair. The late prime minister Mrs Indira Gandhi used to have a tuft of grey hair adorning the forehead. It made her look unique and beautiful. In contrast nowadays people love to remain young with cent per cent black hair throughout their lives. Once a Sardarji from armed forces told me that it is essential as it is a kind of camouflage to survive in the society where there is a cut throat competition in every field.

In the picture below we can see the new army chief of our country in perfectly black hair and moustache. Maybe a grey hair and a grey moustache are less intimidating and less impressive for the image of an army personnel.

It is difficult to be Indian in India

In India it is absolutely absurd if a person is dressed like an Indian. A doctor is not a doctor if he is dressed in a dhoti-kurta. He must wear a white coat. A lawyer isn't worth his salt if he is not dressed in black. A few years ago a Sardarji retired from a senior post in Punjab. It became a news as he wore only Kurta Chadra and similar Punjabi clothes throughout his career. When I was employed with Modi Xerox as an Engineer in the early nineties it was treated blasphemous to come to office without a neck tie even during the summer season.

It was the year 1980 in Delhi when a new chemistry teacher joined our school. He was dressed in spotless white Kurta and Churidar pyjama along with the white coloured canvass shoes. Even his handkerchief was a symbol of white purity. He was indeed a spectacle to behold. With very nicely groomed hair and trimmed beard he had a very saintly look. His language was dignified and manners very gentle. All his cleanliness and purity put together could not earn him any respect. Rather he was a laughing stock of the school. Children never remained silent in his class. Once I joined a technical college at Ajitwal in Punjab. I went to the interview in white Kurta Pyjama. Surprisingly I was selected. I started taking classes in the same dress. It was a very tough thing to remain as a simple dressed person in a college without being humiliated. Within a fortnight I changed my dress code into a western one. As a tuition teacher, I always maintain a western hue in my clothes with a T- shirt, Capri. Short pants etc. A Sardar with flowing beard and Indian dress cannot be easily accepted as an English teacher just as a person in Kurta Chaadra cannot be accepted as a heart surgeon.

The picture below is a parody on formality. It is a screenshot from the website of 'The Tribune'. In the picture you can see a foreign delegate wearing a neck tie along with the winter suit in the punishing heat of July. On the top of it he is smiling and waving his hands. He can be excused for his ignorance about our country but an Indian walking along side is aping him in a warm dress and is thoroughly suffocated by a neck tie. 

Gandhiji who attended the round table conference in a dhoti was indeed a hero. I salute him.

Slap difference

Once in our class Mrs Bagga came and took a lecture of Geography. She was an exceptionally beautiful Sardarni. In the middle of the lecture she walked straight and delivered two tight slaps to a back bencher. Whether he made some suggestive gesture or casted an evil eye is still not known but the so called bad boy became like a wet cat after receiving the lesson on the cheek by her. Mrs Bagga, however was not a teacher whom the children feared.

The same boy got a similar lesson from Mr Bansal. This teacher walked up to the boy coolly, caught hold of his ear lobe, swung it forward and backward in a to and fro motion and loose handedly delivered two resounding slaps on his left cheek. The terror ran through the whole class. This was the only time I saw Mr Bansal beating a student. But he and his name were a synonym of terror in our school.

If one goes by the name, Mr Bansal does not instill fear. There has hardly been any dreadful army officer or a notorious person of such name in the history. In sharp contrast Mr Bansal could send a chill down one's spine. He was frail but very active . He walked like a robot and lectured as though everything was recorded in some chip in his brain. He had a pair of razor sharp and intelligent eyes. His English was fluent and flawless. The only word that he pronounced awkwardly was 'Substance'. He would over stretch 'a' and mix it with with a touch of 'n' sound through the nostrils. He appeared so perfect that I believed that the correct pronunciation must infact be 'substaaannce' instead of 'substance'. He taught us Physics and Photography. He had a thorough understanding of his subject. Most of the things taught by him are still fresh in my mind. In short despite being medium statured and thin, his personality inspired awe. He seldom smiled. Rather his smile was a news to the students. He was handsome inspite of a slightly dark complexion and one or two artificial teeth. His composure and nerves were as robust as steel. He did not possess even an ounce of extra fat on his body and was active like some battery operated machine. His bicycle was as nicely maintained as his perfectly creased clothes. He hardly felt any cold during the winter season. When it was extremely cold he just wore a half sleeved sweater. His shirt was never tugged inside his trousers. It was said that he provided private coaching at his home which immensely benefitted his students preparing for competitive examinations.

Although Mr Bansal was one of my favourite teachers, he was a bit short of perfection on personal account. Not for the purpose of slandering but only to give a true potrait of his personality I would add that he smoked in his photography lab while hiding his face by the doors of an almirah. Once I went to his lab at a wrong moment. It appeared as if he was sorting out something in the almirah. There was a change in his tone and after a quick and hidden puff he came to me near the door of the laboratory saying "Yes" very impressively. But the odour could not be hidden.

Now, why his slaps were so different from the slaps of the other teachers? May be because of his no nonsense attitude and the accumulated impression of several years upon the minds of the children.

A tribute to the teachers from Australia

It was the second week of September of the year 1981. The Summer heat was becoming tolerable by then. Rather the mornings had already started becoming pleasant and balmy. During this time a team of teachers visited our school from Australia. They taught the TM meditation technique to the whole school. It was initiated into the world by Mahrishi Mahesh Yogi.

These white gentlemen possessed a calm composure. There was an apprecialble serenity on their faces. It took them about a week to impart the meditation technique to the students and the teachers. The day before we were to be given the Mantra, we were asked to bring an apple and a handkerchief to the school.

The apples that we brought were placed on a table in a corner and covered by a handkerchief. One by one we went to the teacher and received the Mantra in the form of a  whisper. It was very much like the way a secret is told where the speaker places his hand like a wall alongside his mouth and the ears of the listener.

After receiving the Mantra we meditated and later on ate the apples. The soothing weather and the tanquility obtained by meditation was a wonderful combination. The inward journey was a novelty for me. I started practising this meditation regularly. After about an year those teachers sent a message to the school and sought a kind of feedback. "How many of you still meditate?" asked the Principal during the morning assembly. Two hands were raised. The other student was Praveen Kulshreshta who meditated occasionally. But I meditated exactly as it was prescribed twice a day and carried on doing so for about two years and eight months. Finally I discontinued when I developed a taste for Gurbani Kirtan which provided me with a wholesome spiritual diet.

I would honestly acknowledge that the TM meditation technique was an important milestone in my spiritual journey. I am sincerely thankful to the Australian teachers for that. They might not have earned any dollars by their efforts. But they certainly earned a lot of goodwill which is a currency of great value in the spiritual world. May God shower his blessings upon those Australian teachers for their selfless and kind service!

Truth in the gaseous form

After independence several natural landforms like  rocky hills or river banks etc near the cities got encroached upon by politicians and their allies in the guise of some Ashram etc. Same was the case in Delhi also. But a Barsati nalla (a ravine) near our school had not yet been gobbled up. In the eighties the land acquisition act was not abused as we see nowadays where a chunk of land is first acquired forcibly and then after some value addition (by providing electricity, sewerage etc) is sold to the favourite business houses. Politicians in those days pried only upon the wastelands.

The Barsati nalla was comparitively safe because any temple or Ashram made near it could easily cave in. I wondered how the Principal's residence remained safe despite being at the brink.

One day l and my friends ventured onto the other side of this ravine by crossing it. The flats on the other side had used the rear portion near to the Nalla for growing radish etc. For the purpose of thrill we uprooted and ate a few of them. Next day also the same routine followed during the lunch break. But soon the cat was out of the bag. We stopped this extra curricular activity as the fellow classmates of tenth standard got a whiff of our adventure. How they came to know is not clearly known but they claimed that they found it out as the fart of one of our comrades had become excessively stinky and gave an indication of the Mooli (radish) eaten during the lunch break.

Moral- Truth can never remain hidden. More so when it involves the radish.

Modesty and the force of gravity.

According to Gandhiji the traditional dress of a country is best suited for a person. He was right because the male reproductive apparatus suffers in tight pants particularly in the hot season in India.
After independence the government owned schools in Punjab had Kurta Pyjama for the boys and Salwar suit for the girls as a standard uniform. Later on they thought that Kurta Pyjama did not go well with the concept of modern education. So they replaced the Pyjama with the western styled trousers and Kurta with a tight fitting shirt. The girls' uniform, however, remained unchanged. With the arrival of Public schools umbrella cut skirts were introduced for the girls of primary classes.

In Kendriya Vidialaya, from where I studied, even the girls of the senior secondary classes had to wear a skirt. Whereas he boys were not allowed short pants from class ninth onwards as they exposed their hairy legs. In other words more a school is modern more is the liberty to the girls and greater is the discomfort to the boys. Thankfully there was no neck tie for us unlike the boys of ultra modern schools like DPS etc.
Now, in a skirt the modesty of a girl is at the mercy of the gravitational force. In the playground and particularly on the windy days of February the girls had to use their hands in order to keep their skirts in position. Or else the powerful winds could upset the harmonal balance of the boys around. On one such day I was walking on the path adjacent to the main building and in front of the Principal's residence. Two girls of class twelve were ahead of me. Suddenly a gush of wind made their umbrella cuts fly above their waist. Assuming no one nearby they did not use their hands to support the force of gravity and intentionally allowed the wind power to be victorious. Just for reassurance they turned around with smiling faces. They blushed when they saw me seeing them enjoy their liberty.

Desi formula of the drill master

Usually the Drill master is the equivalent of a police inspector in a school. He is a very important member of the school faculty. In fact the physical training drill during morning assemblies play an important role in refining the students, taming them and making them obedient to their teachers. But strictness beyond a limit becomes counter productive. It is well known that if nuts are overightened, they tend to become free.
Probably it was the month of July. The summer heat of Delhi in this month is oppressive to say the least. On one such hot and sultry Saturday morning the physical training session went on for a little too long. After the prayers all other members of the teaching staff went into the main building while the PT master was hell bent on delivering his duties worth all his annual salary in a single day.
The physical torture seemed endless. The children got thoroughly drenched in their white uniforms. Their patience was exhausting at a very fast rate. After a set of arm raising and clapping exercises there came the turn of bending forward while sitting cross legged. The children had to place their palms on their head and bend forward almost touching their forhead to the ground. As a voice of protest they started making a "hummmm....." kind of sound while bending. The collective sound became fairly loud and funny. Each time when the turn of bending came the sound became louder than the previous occasion. Those were the moments of both fun and dread. While all enjoyed the voice of dissent none wanted to be punished.
The master got pushed into a very awkward situation. If he ignored the revolt his reputation as a disciplinary icon of the school could get a beating. While on the other hand there was no way of finding out the leaders of the mutiny.
Ultimately he resorted to the Desi formula. He gave a sound thrashing to a few boys in the front row without asking for any explaination. "The humm...... " stopped instantly and the revolt got suppressed successfully.

Sky lab and the games period

We were in eigth in 1979 when an American Satellite called Skylab fell on Earth. Students were wildly excited as to where it would fall. Luckily nothing untoward happened. Nevertheless the event was remembered for a long time.
One day our physical training master wanted to interact with the children who had come to the playground in their favourite games period. He called all the boys and girls under a small tree near the water taps close to the primary wing where the morning assembly was held and started lecturing them. Now who wants a lecture on games? The children were desperate to play and have fun for sometime. We thought that it would last for about five minutes. But the teacher kept on speaking about something in which no one was interested. He could not understand the body language of the boys and girls who simply wanted to run, shout and have fun to relieve their stress. All our excitement of the games period died when the lecture grew into a lengthy one. When ten minutes of the period were left he said, "Okay, now you can play".
One pretty girl who was an year senior to us spoke in a girlish tone by swaying her body girlishly whilst clasping her hands near her belly, "Abb kya hoga Sir?" She wanted to say that what could be played when almost the whole period was over. The teacher did not seem to understand what she meant. He imitated her several times by swaying his fat torso while clasping his hand just as the girl had done. We all laughed unlimitedly at his imitaltion which he repeated several times along with mimicking the girlish tone and saying, "Abb kya hoga Sir". Then he turned to the girl and said in his natural voice,"Skylab ggirrae ga abb"(the heavens are going to fall now). Thus a few more minutes got wasted All the children had a hearty laugh. Finally the period was over and we all were showing our sagging faces to the world. We went back to our class rooms without playing. Was the teacher so ignorant that he could not understand our loss? Well, only some high technology Skylab can know that.

The story of our Jamun tree

A Jamun tree was planted in our compound in the beginning of the year 2001. It was bought from the nursery. Initially we planted the sapling in the rear part of the house. But later on we transplanted it to the front. It never showed any transplantation shock at all. Several years went by. 

There is a kind of custom in Punjab according to which if a tree does not bear any fruit, the owner must threaten it by applying an axe mildly upon its trunk during Diwali. Along with that he says, "If you do not yield any fruit the next year, you would be axed". If I am not mistaken it was the day of Diwali in 2007 when both my boys talked to the tree thus-
Elder one said while applying a saw to the trunk, "You need to be cut as you do not give us any fruit". Then the younger one stopped him and said,"O brother let us give the tree a chance. Probably it would start giving us fruit from the next year". The tree seemingly took it seriously and started bearing fruit from the following season. 

Many of our friends enjoy the Jamuns along with us and that too in plenty. They take them to their houses also. Birds keep feeding from the top of the tree. They peck at a Jamun and have a small portion of it while the rest of the fruit falls down. Aso when the wind blows a lot of fruit showers down. Therefore a very large quantity of Jamuns get wasted. We have never put any net under the tree for the lack of expertise. Nevertheless it has been keeping us happy year after year. 

The first picture is of the adorable tree. In the second picture my wife is plucking the Jamuns. In the last picture we are having a utensil full of Jamuns in a matter of few minutes.

Product review - Efficient Pocha

The latest purchase that we have made is a Pocha (mopping tool). This can be used very efficiently even without bending our body. First time I saw it in CMC hospital Ludhiana about two years ago. I suggested it to my wife but she refused to listen. Last week a woman from our neighbourhood came to our house and talked about it. Now, that advice worked well. Soon this Pocha and a similar efficient device for removing the cobwebs got purchased by the better half. Today is the third day that I have contributed in the mopping activity. It makes it really very simple. A few days ago we had two full time maids. One for the day time and another for evening and the night time as my mother was on her death bed and needed intensive care. After my mother passed away, I am almost free as all the coaching work had already been wound up earlier for dealing with the medical emergency. Under normal circumstances we believe in doing all the household work ourself. With no maids and no coaching work (at present) mopping is a joy. More so with this modern tool.

Application review- Photostory

Photostory is a very nice Android application for making a slide show. We can join various photos and dub them with music. In this way a lovely video (slide show or in other words a picture story) is ready. Presently two sample videos can be downloaded from the links given below. The first one focuses on my elder son whilst the second one the younger one. It should be borne in mind that for good work patience is a prerequisite. https://db.tt/iKmBqSP0 
Another sample https://db.tt/tQ4ahfjX

Book review -Third class in Indian railways - by MK Gandhi

Mahatma Gandhi is known to all. But that can not stop us from praising the beauty of his language and the clarity and conviction with which he puts forward his views. In this mini ebook he gives his opinion on various matters including the pathetic condition of ordinary class compartments of the Indian Railways. Although I agreed only partially with some of the views, yet it was a pleasure reading them. This ebooklet is freely available on the internet.

Book review - Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny 1857-59 - by William Forbes-Mitchell

In this ebook the author who is an English soldier gives an eye witness account of the 1857 mutiny that took place in Inda. In such stories the hero of one nation often gets painted as a villain by the opponents. The Satti Chowra Ghat massacre of Kanpur shows the character of the Indian soldiers along with that of Nana Sahib in a very poor light. Anyhow the contents of the book are very interesting and enhance our knowledge regarding the way the pitched battles were fought in the earlier times. This ebook can be downloaded free of cost from the internet.

Book review-Following the equator (Mark Twain)

This book is a travelogue by Mark Twain written about 125 years ago. It is freely available on internet and can be read by an Android phone with the help of Flyte books or similar applications. First I read the Indian part of the travel. It started from Bombay and then went on to Varanasi, Calcutta and so on. There is an elaborate description of the 1957 mutiny and the thugs of yore. The book tells how the Indian Railways worked during those times. Indian way of life and the nature of the people has been narrated in a humorous way. Finding these chapters interesting, I read the book from the beginning. It was an enriching experience.