Brief Illustrated History of Romania

It  seldom happens that you come across a rare breed of historians who are not hesitant in letting their opinions and 'What-if' analysis known to the readers.

One just not only needs a thorough and lucid analysis of the old pages of history for this but also needs audacity to challenge the readers and people who prefer to lie in the shadow of historical-facts-should-not-be-touched ease.

This is best a historian can do what Neagh Djuvara has tried doing through this book, inspiring a future generation by telling not only the proud origin of his country but also underlining the mistakes from past which coming generations should be warned off.

The last lines and concluding paragraphs of his books is nothing but hope for illustrated Romaina.

Hollow Neem Tree

‘We must get rid of it, it has gotten hollow from inside’, he said. ‘Father is thinking of selling the trunk which is still useful before it falls down on boundary wall or on some passers-by’, he added with a sense of urgency in his tone.

He was speaking about a Neem Tree which stood there at the entrance of our village house compound. This three which stared at our family and last 3 generations since as long as time started for us. This tree which saw new toddlers crawling around it, adolescents turning into youths, youths of this family migrating to cities for their new professions and time to time uniting only for celebration or mourning in the family.

They say, this tree didn’t grow continuously and normally like other trees. The family members and people have seen this tree growing with spurts of active expansion conceding with growth, prosperity and expansion of this family. But now it’s hollow.

This tree saw the raw truths about this family and around. It saw how the youths of this large spread house felt too full of themselves and boasted about their moustaches whenever barber came and sat under this tree to give them a shave.

It had its contributions in the celebrations of the family by providing them shelter under it and also providing members their tooth brushes every morning.

When this large spread house was too full to accommodate family members inside, it gave them night shelter beneath it. When Sun was burning in summer noon and house was too suffocating without electricity, it gave shelter beneath it. When in winter sun set early and it was too early to sleep for people, it gave them shelter to sit beneath it around burning ‘bonfire’ and provide them an opportunity to talk and gossip about village stories.

But now it’s too old to stand and provide anything useful, and turned itself into danger for walls and people from in and around the house. It must be got ridden of.

But what happens after that? Will there be any new life replacing it? How long would it take to for this young life to become useful? Would it survive that long? Who would protect it? And would it not be useful to plant a ‘more useful tree’ like Mango tree at the place of Neem Tree. After all who uses Neem’s young branches as tooth brush anymore? Suddenly all these questions become more useful and relevant.

But nobody thinks about those stares which this tree had over the 3 generations of this family. Would it not be preserved somewhere in this tree? Those stares must have turned into stories, and hidden themselves into some corner of main trunk of this tree. What happens to those stories? Should we let them go? Should we not search for those stories before this tree is uprooted and sold to someone for burning and saving them from cold for few days this winter, or hanged somewhere in the form of door.

Would these stories not be precious? Perhaps it can answer few unjust which happened in this family and generation, once these stories are taken out and narrated out loud, few memories will be cherished, few tears would be shed, and few hugs after long rivalry and misunderstanding could be assured.

Should we not try finding those stories?

Or perhaps the hope for more useful mangos in coming years from the new replacement tree is more promising, after all who reads old stories anyway.

Old stories are only for children and old people for helping them in their sleeps and melancholy memories.

There will be soon a new mango tree!!!

                                           

                                   ****              

The Palace of Illusions

This book was about retelling of the great epic Mahabharata from Draupadi’s viewpoint.

One is left with nostalgia and memories of stories which were narrated to us as a child. This makes no difference if you have neither read nor heard those stories but watched this epic through famous Indian TV serial.

You are left behind with an observation that the gigantic characters form this epic character, had humanly virtues and vices. They were all made of greatness and weaknesses, bright and dark facets of human existence.

But the vital point which stands out from this retelling and narration is, rationalising ones act in the frame of good and bad. Both Krishna (Good) and Duryodhna (Evil) were not purely accurate and inaccurate in their acts but they rationalized their acts and tried to fit them in frames of just and unjust.

Narration in this book was simple and free flowing. However, sometime you do feel that author could have made her narration more griping in few chapters.

There was an approach of innovative writing in the names of each chapters.

Most of the chapter were with introspective view point of Draupadi but there were points were it seemed that author intermingled her view points with protagonist’s narrations.   

In the starting chapters, the self-narration of Draupadi as not very beautiful queen in comparison to other queens, was perhaps one pivotal point in defining her persona. It also justified to a great extents, her decisions and acts throughout the narration of this epic.

By the time one nears the closing chapter of this book, it leaves you with curiosity to read or re-read the original epic and try to understand each characters from humanely viewpoints. One accentuating point of this book was to relook at the character and incidents of this great epic through normal human emotions and rationalizations.

We all end up finding little bit of us in every character of this epic and every character will look less divine and more human like in their acts and emotions.

Even If

• even if count of hairs on his head was in single digit, it was greasy and well combed - Growing old with grace!  

• even if he knew he might not wake up next morning, he was well shaved and dressed with impeccable lilly-white shirt, black patent leather shoes and well-creased, navy-blue trousers - Passion well lived life!

Yet another Run?

A long distance runner dips through different emotions  at different stages of his final run.

Standing at the start line on the race day, the waves of his thoughts and emotions which strikes the walls of his mind, are numerous. 

Self doubt, confidence, fear, self motivation, inspiration, passion, foresightedness and vigor, all appears at the same time. Of course, it's subjective and lot depends on the very fabric of the runner as a individual.

 One wonders, when does this actually starts? These emotions and thoughts must have some seed, when did this goes under soil of your mind? Is it always present? And a race day is just a catalyst. Or this builds up slowly.

It's open to debate! But my weight will be on the side that these are always there and a race is just triggers it.

Long distance running is not natural, whereas a sprint running can be called a regular activity.

A sprint running is sudden and fast, therefore, you don't have option of struggling or even addressing your thoughts and emotions. It's unilateral and monolithic. You have no option but to pump yourself up and move with the whole force after that gun shot.

Where is the time to think? Where is the time to even address your different thoughts and emotions?   Perhaps, there is, but it find its place way before the start line. The chances that there will be struggle of thoughts and emotions and one might dominates to other impacting the result, are minuscule. 

On the contrary, long distance running is entirely differently ball game at all.

A long distance running is a long conversation with yourself. Every thought which might be hidden somewhere in you, appears and echos in your mind. Every emotion which found it's place in you, but was suppressed or not acknowledged by you, appears to its full strength.

Why does this happen? Is it due to fact that you are venerable as your energy depletes, and what makes you stronger, and the only source of energy, are your thoughts and emotions?

The result of your run depends on which force of your thought wins! All your thoughts and emotions slowly group themselves into Victory or part of large crowd, Vigor or just enough, facing fear of Breathlessness or easy life.

A runner start harvesting these thoughts the moment he start training for his long runs. He faces these thoughts and emotions and he gets acquainted with them.

A winner knows that these are real and he must address and command them. He can't be ignorant towards these.

.....

Mystical Dusk

While I am writing these lines, a beautiful and mystical evening is melting in front of my eyes.

The different shades of colours which have appeared in last 1 hours, is nothing less than a magic. 

As if someone is painting on a large canvas of sky. Not quite satisfied with the colours with which he is playing, therefore, trying to play with all possible colours  he has in the plate. 

Now it's colour of gloom which he is trying to paint.

A stroke of a brush tells so much about painter's state of mind. It translates his thoughts into lines and brush of colours. It appears as if, it progresses as waves of his thoughts progresses.

His emotions, his thoughts, his inspirations unfolds in the form of pattern of colours on his play ground canvas. 

As Dostoyevsky might have put it in his words that man's organic need for self-expression, of his natural drive to be himself, leads to creation of an art. 

If it's done in words, it becomes Book. If it's done in colours, it becomes Painting! 

One good Run

Good and satisfactory runs are similar in so many ways. It definitely starts with your willingness to run, followed by a good weather(if lucky) and then perhaps a good finish. But when it's on Monday and a holiday with warm (British worm :)) sunny day, it's nothing less than luxury.

There comes a stage for every amateur runner when he gets so occupied with the timing and pace of his runs that he starts to miss the pleasure in running.
There's no doubt that people run for different reasons. Most of us run to get fitter and get healthy in life, few of us run to adhere to their new year resolution (because others are doing so) and there also exists a category of runners who take up running to prove a point in life. The trigger for later category can be a personal experience or incident. However, one point remains constant for all the runners that they should enjoy their run.

My today's run was triggered by a guilt that I missed my Sunday long run with SRC group. Perhaps I was too lazy and gave myself so many reasons why i should not run. It reached to a level that I returned from mid way run, feeling exhausted and sweating as if I was running in Sahara desert.

But deep down I knew that I was not enjoying. Albeit, I put my shoes on, but rhythm of my feet and shoes were not matching. One wanted me to rest while other reminded me of other 6-7 shoes which were waiting for me.
So here I was today, well rested, ready with my java jolt to exploit a bright and sunny holiday evening.
We never realised that people whom we cross during our runs, influence us in many ways. Their mood, dress and even gender has its impact on your run.
Today was a happy evening evening, thanks to bright, warm and sunny evening, people were at their jovial best. People in their summer dresses taking a stroll, people in their balcony enjoying their drinks, young kids in groups on roads enjoying a good laugh. All had their bits in my good run today.

I couldn't stop my self stopping and taking few pictures and capturing such rare moments in my iOS cam.
While doing so I didn't realise that I was also running. How can one go through so many experiences and swings while running.
Ended my 4.9 miles run @ 8.03 pace. But it was not timing but the time which made this run memorable and a realisation that it's vital for a runner to enjoy his runs!

Unexplored

The distance which you have never run, the energy level which you have never exhausted, mental mettle which you have never tested, oblivion where your mind has never entered, counts of your breaths which you have never battled before.
A marathon is all about these things. Strength, courage, calmness and focus!

नव वर्ष

हर्ष नव
जीवन उत्कर्ष नव

नव उमंग
नव तरंग
जीवन का नव प्रसंग

नवल चाह
नवल राह
जीवन का नव प्रवाह

गीत नवल
प्रीति नवल
जीवन की रीति नवल

जीवन की नीति नवल
जीवन की जीत नवल

-हरिवंश राय बच्चन

No two persons ever read the same book!

K - What's your say on this quote by Edmund Wilson - No two persons ever read the same book. is it always true about all the books or only with readable books?

A  - Readability of a book in itself is such a subjective experience. To paraphrase Tolstoy: Bad books are all alike; every great book is great in its own way.

You perhaps "like" Ayn Rand. I just bought my first Rand - The Fountainhead. And I can't stop hating it altogether. Its just a very badly written book - she is starting with types of men rather than characters, making caricatures that just slither on the page than rise above, hardly any subtlety - every thing has to be explained to the dumb reader ... I found it so excruciating that I have stopped after Book 1 - more than 200 pages and can barely dare a look at the beast by my bedside.

There is a supposedly popular book by Jeffrey Eugenides - a new one - "The Marriage Plot". Overall a fast paced, perhaps very readable book. But that does not mean I can recommend it to you. Like the characters in this book (note I say characters not types) you feel a certain dissatisfaction while reading and ultimately finishing this book. Is the author just cheating us with his glibness, now pretending to be literary now pretending to be simple and reasonable... I could barely see through this pretense and the novel ended. Not sure if I will read it again.

As Martin Amis in his The War Against Cliche says " you can only re-read a great book." And for me, that is a good test of readable material lying all around. I have the Salman Rushdie "masterpiece" Midnight's Children, and I have not completed it yet. And as happens with every so called popular or a cult novel, you have a legion of its fans telling you to read it why have you not read it when would you read it you dolt and when you finally read it you just find that Rushdie's story has to be one of the most pretentious you have read, with a style that says look at me I am so smart and again and again and again.Perhaps Rushdie forgot there was such a thing as a simple sentence. This is when I just have to look at my small collection of books by Calvino and Roth and Nabokov and Borges and Bolano that I feel some sense of sanity and order returning.

So yes, the reader brings a lot of himself to the book, his own expectations of the author, looks for some semblance of connection to the characters or situations in the book that is always his own - can not be dictated by the author or by another reader; or as in my minority opinion, reads just for the pleasure of it - savors the language, the unexpected turns a phrase takes, not to learn anything from the book, just to see if the "alternate reality" is consistent in itself, lives and breathes on its own.

I am reading some books on science by Barrow and Gleick - and I think again what you bring to those on your own - your curiosities, prior interest and education - make all the difference - just plowing through these books or enjoying them.

K - Interesting indeed that you mentioned about Ayn Rand’s ‘The Fountainhead’, I always ask people about their experience of reading this book and have found something new in each of their interpretations. But your say on this book is very different, in fact strongly opinionated (one may dislike a book but hating a book is strong word).

To begin with ‘types of men rather character’, it stands so correct, not just for ‘The Fountainhead’ but also for the characters in every single written book (if I can take the freedom to say so). Perhaps that’s the reason why a reader finds some semblance of himself in the character of a book written by someone who might be a generation, skin color or whole paradigm of life apart.

Of course it would be silliest of anyone to assume that by mentioning ‘type of men’ Ayn Rand meant a certain gender.

If you will read this book further (which I am sure you will as you are not someone who forms an opinion about a book by reading just first few pages of it) you will realize that every character of this book symbolizes itself with ‘type of men’. Whether it’s protagonist first hander ‘Howard Roark’, second hander ‘Peter Keating’ or Roark’s antithesis ‘Ellsworth Toohey’ who embodies everything evil about mankind.

Now exploring about style of writing in this book (every thing has to be explained to the dumb reader), you will perhaps agree with me that subtlety in itself is very subjective. And particularly for a book it depends a lot on plot and theme of the writing.

 A book should never be written or for that matter judged based on the level of it’s subtlety. It would be analogues to saying Munch’s ‘The Scream’ is not masterpiece because it will not bring you to tears, make you laugh, or remind you of something you’d almost forgotten like other masterpieces does. Point is, not every art is made in same or identical fashion. Therefore starting a book with presumption that since its ‘LIKED’ by people therefore, there should be deep subtlety involve in this, is flawed.

I do agree to a large extent with your view about Rushdie’s way of writing but once again I would not fall into the danger of generalizing his way of writing as always arrogant and ‘see-I’m-smart-writer’ way.

While I am drafting this response, I re-read your lines many times and struck by an observation that the most of the writers of you best small collections are not originally writers of English language. A lot due credit goes to the fantastic translators of these books. But at the same time it makes me ponder whether how sure we are that their books in it’s original language were in simple sentences? (just a thought). Perhaps what we need to do as a reader is, reading those books in it’s original languages and then taking a stand on it. (Once again it’s a hypothetical (but to my rational ability valid) point of view).

In sum, glad that we both agree that ‘No two persons ever read the same book’ specially on ‘My most liked’ author cost J  outlay

******

Questions Questons and Questions...

A sudden realizations while watching a debate...

Aren't we living in an era where we all have Questions Questions and more Questions but very few answers.

We raise more questions than delivering or pondering about the answers of these questions.

Aren't we all know the problems around us but what we need is answer.

Answers Answers and more Answers ...

Confusion Caste ka...

Funny it may sound but word "Caste" which doesn't belong to any Indian languages (it's a Portuguese word), has become so powerful in this country.

It not only decides the ruler of Indian states but also determines the number of opportunities one gets in education as well in earning livelihood.

But what a mess it has created in this country- A caste which is BC in one state may be ST/SC in other state. Certain caste is in SC list as well as BC list of the same state & many more..


The called BIGGEST democracy of this world needs to evolve and go CASTE NO BAR way!!

Salinger Snapshots: newyorker.com

Salinger Snapshots: newyorker.com

J. D. Salinger, Literary Recluse

Books: SONNY

Indifference...

To be indifferent to any problem,suffering or any issue is what makes the human being inhuman.

Indifference, after all, is more dangerous than anger and hatred. Anger can at times be creative. One writes a great poem, a great symphony, one does something special for the sake of humanity because one is angry at the injustice that one witnesses. But indifference is never creative. Even hatred at times may elicit a response. You fight it. You denounce it. You disarm it. Indifference elicits no response.

Indifference is not a response. Indifference is not a beginning, it is an end.

Photo campaign @ Ghatkopar

The Independence Day this year was very different from last many years Independence Day. It gave me a very vivid picture why Indian boast about being super power in coming decade. Why we are being more proactive in addressing the problems like Climate change, social inequality and even economic recession. The only reason is our Young Generation.

When I was first informed on 14th Aug that a group of young college students from Ghatkopar would broaden our Anti Child Labor- Photo Campaign in their area, it gave as much enthusiasm as curiosity. Enthusiasm because experience of working with young college students has been fabulous till now, their vigor is unmatchable. On the other hand it generates curiosity because youngsters have so much to ask and understand, moreover, their interpretation of child labor and our campaign are really interesting.

Those were the days of Swine flu in Mumbai and Pune when first time I experienced that my shoulders didn’t go through stress/strain test in Mumbai local.
I called up their representative once I reached Ghatkopar on 15th Aug noon and asked for their location.

As expected, it was indeed an enthusiastic bunch of 15 young students and all of them were below twenties. After a brief introduction with all of them, we kick off our campaign. Ashutosh, our campaign lead explained them about the aim of our campaign and how their group can help in this phase of campaign.

There were many things which were evident instantly from their response and vigor. Firstly, they were indeed different from all those people and individual who prefer to celebrate the Independence Day and other national holidays in Big Malls and multiplexes being indifferent about the social problem and their responsibilities. Their best weapon is cursing the system and pointing out how things around them are getting worst day by day.

But here was a group which was emitting the wave of vigor and proactiveness to make the things happen which they wanted to see around them. They had a bag full of masks which they were distributing to the local Chaiwala’s and auto Riksa drivers who knew that Swine Flu was killing people but didn’t know how to save themselves from this killer flu.
The group was explaining them the dos and don’ts of flu before handing over the Flu mask.

Once we explained them about Photo campaign aim and how to interact with the local people and seek their support in campaign. It took hardly a jiffy when this group was all around the locality, explaining people and shopkeepers about Child Labor and government’s initiatives to handle this social problem. And also convincing them that they need to come forward and not be indifferent about this problem. They can become the change agent by getting their photo done with the message which says that “Children should be in school not at work.”

The response from people and merchants from Ghatkopar was unprecedented. Everyone came forward to share their experiences on child labor; their views and suggestion to uproot this social problem form our nation and of course to get their photo done with the message that “Children should be in school not at work.”

The group was splited in 3 parts: one, interacting with the shop owners and merchants, other interacting with passing by junta and third making hawkers aware of our campaigns. We touched almost all segments of citizens in mere 4 hours.

Our campaign came to an end when we realized that our fully charged SONY battery can not match the energy of this group and it was time to call it a day.

We appreciated their efforts and initiatives and requested them to split and not work in a group anymore because every individual in that group had capability to make a new highly energetic and responsible group.

We look forward to work with them in Video and Rally phases of our campaign.

Join us ... Be a Change Agent..

“So what do you guys actually do?” He asked with a curiuos but sardonic tone.

We are working for Child Rights to ensure that every child should be in school not at work. And that’s the part of our holistic view/aim that we as a society should ensure that Equal education and childhood for every child in this country.
And since our government is law maker their role is vital. Therefore, we are working with them to move towards our goal that ‘Every Child should be in school not at work.’

"Wow... but don’t you feel that it’s too idealistic?" He replied abruptly. "I mean, it’s just not as simple as you say, you know that right. Everyone knows that this is the problem and our government is working on it. I think what you guys are doing is a good IDEA."

His response didn't dismayed us. He is one among those people who think that their responsibility ends once they fill their ITR form. They move their responsibility for society to government and government has to ensure smooth life and society for them. After all they have paid their income tax, isn't it?

But who makes this society, it that only the government and by the way who governs it, is it only the government?
Think again, because if that is true then train would not have been burnt in our city when some time it comes little late and women and elderly people would have felt safe in our cities specially on new year eves.

Perhaps, it’s right time to remember Gandhi Baba’s word that ‘Be the change you want to see in the world’ After all we make the society, government is just a hired driver.
And as far as our IDEA is concerned... listen up – here’s some really bad news; it’s dangerous not to do what you love and being indifferent about the problems around you.

We know and we love what we are doing, because we know it very well that if we dream to make India Super power and better place to live then it’s difficult to achieve by changing the mind of youth of this nation as their determination is as firm as iron.

But we can shape the future of this country by shaping the mindset of children of this country by ensuring the proper education and a happy childhood for them .
P.S.: It's much easier.

Is that too much to ask? If not, then come and join us in our campaign.

City of Shondesh

Call it a city of revolution, city of literature, city of unions, city of Sweets ...

City of Geetanjali, City of Vivekanand, City Ravindro Sangeet ...

This a fabulous read about the same city from NY times by SOMINI SENGUPTA.

http://travel.nytimes.com/2009/05/03/travel/03calcutta.html?pagewanted=1

An Urban Morning...

Mornings have been hiding from me since long time. But today not only I caught it red handed (red,blue and white precisely :)) but also captured it in my camera.

Don't mistake it for a big star which are generally visible from hill stations. This is our very own Chanda Mama.

Moon has always fascinated me, be its numerous stories or it's everlasting hide and seek game. Oops.. let me correct myself.. it's not only me but perhaps every human under this blue sky.

Being said so, lets accept that no one has ornamented moon more exquisitely than Italo Calvino (remember his masterpiece... Cosmicomics).

Now look at the moon in the picture.. seems, it's ruling the sky.. just won a battle against a troop with uncountable solders of stars. Isn't it marvelous...

Now look at this picture.. If you give this a ear carefully, you will hear millions of yawning :).

The indolent in this world called this as ungodly time but believe me every city is a different city in this time of morning..

No I'm not exaggerating it.. if you don't believe me then try it out yourself. The only challenge is pulling yourself out of blanket and crawling towards the washroom.

The Mendicant of Kumarswamy Layout

It would have been either that 50 paisa or 1 re coin that kept his hope alive. We (My friend and I ) didn’t remember when we dropped the hope in his aluminum bowl, but it was indeed that penny which made his hope intact, to urge for a 50 aana those uncountable times.

In those 3 years we saw him at the same place with same bowl and in similar torn cloths on the same mat which was made by stitching 3 or 4 empty cement bags together.

We did some time wonder that where he goes in evening to sleep. Although we always saw him there sitting at the other end of the police station. And any chance of existence of any relative or family looked quite remote for him. Even the shop keeper around the Kumarswami layout saw him like that for years.

We often laughed about the little ambience which he had created around him. He had his simple little luxuries, that 2 liter Thumbs Up bottle, wrapped up in wet jute cloth piece to keep the water cool in hot days. He always kept that bottle near him. In many ways he was more disciplined and professional at his work than us.

We often passed by him hastily in morning and afternoon, more due to worry about missing our attendance than the missing the lecture. Whenever he saw us he used to utter “Annaaa” (brother) and raise his bowl towards us.

We indeed remember giving him a penny some time, but never after that. We used to look at each other with a slight broaden lips (smile) and move hastily. We had somehow the feeling that he looked too old for his age and if he could have wanted, he could have worked somewhere and made some money. We sometime discussed how the much older people than him pulled rickshaw in our native and old chaps sell cigarettes and tea near our college, and made money. Moreover we didn’t see any visible physical disability in him.

But we perhaps had forgotten that his biggest disability was, he was growing older and older.

Then one day when we woke up in ungodly hours of 5 am with full zeal to enjoy the next 3-4 days trip to Ooty and Bandipur (Which was indeed a different experience, spending 3-4 days seeing those faces which we always saw in lecture rooms), we raced passed the ground zero of our ignorance. Our eyes searched for that talking statue that was always there intact like poverty in India. And then we saw something that was more interesting than Sherlock Holmes’s investigation breakthroughs.

He was coming out of the Matador which was kept beside the Police stations for years. The Matador, which some people called haunted, some called accidental and nobody came claiming it. It was those kind of vehicle whose parts are taken out (by police or thief’s no one knows :)) as day passes and finally police sells it to Kabadiwali in Kg’s.

We couldn’t stop talking about what we saw that morning, throughout our journey.
Many days, months of ignorance passed by, He pleading for a penny and we ignoring and making our way towards college. Sometime we thought “ Are we turning cruel day by day?” But at the same time we knew that it wasn’t true, as we did donate and tossed the coins in bowls of beggars.

May be the beggar of Kumarswamy was lacking something in creating that misery look or plea which most of us examine before tossing the coins. Or perhaps our eyes had become so habitual of seeing him in that place that it ignored him as he ever existed there.

One day, when we were at the verge of losing our attendance and were sprinting towards college, we didn’t heard “Annaa….”. We turned our heads north, looking towards his spot curiously, his bottle and other belonging were there but he was absent. Perhaps he was taking a break or had gone to take breakfast, we wheezed hurriedly.

Next day when we had learnt and realized our laziness to start late to college, we determined to start early. We walked slowly and comfortably that road like a over fed elephant. We looked around and saw that a new fast food restaurant was coming up at round the corner. We looked towards each other and laughed because that meant a lot to us.

It meant a break from Sai Sagar’s Idly Sambhar. Though we were curious about the price. Rs 5 was the budget for our Idly Sambhar breakfast and any stretch on that price meant skipping of our Rs 3 hot coffee.

When we passed by Kumarswamy Police station, we didn’t see him again. His stuff and luxuries were still there but without him. We realized that something wrong with us, looked like we were poking too much in other life, be it a mendicant or EC (Electronic Circuit) lecturer.

The next day when we passed and looked towards his place, his stuff were not there. Our curious eyes rolled towards the Matador. That bottle, white mat and bowl was kept in front of it. It didn’t took much time to realize that what had really happen to him.

In the remaining days of our college whenever passed that place we could not stop looking towards it. We felt that someone whispering something .

When we tried hearing that whisper it sounded like someone saying “I WAS HERE”.