The Curious Incident Of the Dog In the Night-Time by Mark Haddon - A Book Recommendation

How many time do you get a feeling while reading a book that “God, this book should never end, it should go on forever.” That’s exactly how I felt when I was on chapter 107 of this book. If you have not read this book and wondering “Chapter no 107 ???, looks like a thick book… humm” then think again. This book has exactly 272 pages. Now, to make you more bewildered, let me tell you the chapter one before the chapter no 107, is 103. Mazed !!!!

C’mon you got to read the book to demystify this.

When I first laid my hand on this book, I was in a deep exhort to read something different. Enough Marquez, Milan Kundera, Joseph Heller or Vikram Seth for me, I was looking for something which I had no idea. This book came as a recommendation from my literary giant friend, who has elegant choice and test of literature?

THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT-TIME by Mark Haddon, a picture of a dog with three red spots on the cover, it was enough to make me move one step farther and reach 'Language and Dictionary' section of that book store. But then I was reminded that prejudice about a book by just looking at its cover and knowing about not so famous author is like saying “Oh he is just a man, he can’t cross a mountain.”

And that’s how I picked up the book and started reading first few pages. As usual, I ignored the recommendation and forward pages by “The Times”, “Daily Telegraph”, “The Bookseller” and other big guns, they really misguide you. I know you might think, that’s very cynic of me, but that’s how choices varies.

One Dog behind 5 red cars… I tried reading few lines randomly from the book …

First few opening lines of the novel….
"I know all of the countries of the world and their capital cities, and every prime number up to 7,057."

Few lines from some random page…
“I do not tell lies. Mother used to say that this was because I was a good person. But it is not because I am a good person. It is because I can't tell lies.”

It was enough to billow my curiosity to pick up that book and sail through the voyage of reading, which is till this date one of the finest and well sent time of my life.

This book is about 15 year old Christopher who is an autistic savant and while he's a whiz at math and science, human emotions are particularly complex for him. He finds behaviors and demands of adults very mysterious and confusing (as most of the kids do).

All readers out there… I am not going to tell you the story (I would love to but I am no Marquez :))…Go grab or borrow a copy of “THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT-TIME by Mark Haddon.” Take my words, you will cherish about it.

Happy Reading…

TAMASO MA JYOTIRGAMAYA

“Sarve Bhavantu Sukhina ,Sarve Santu NiramayaSarve Bhadrani Pashyantu , Maa Kaschit Dukha Bhagh Bhavet”

May all be happy; May all be without disease;May all have well-being; May none have misery of any sort.

Wish you all a prosperous and safe Deepavali.

All about Reading ....

Why do we read? It’s pretty difficult question, isn’t it?

When someone first asked me this question, it made me numb. I replied it with the very first thought that came to my mind. I replied that I read because books make me feel good(no clue, why i said that :)), I fully utilize my travel time to office (thanks to this city’s growing traffic, it takes some times 3 hours up and down to cover a 5 KM journey ) and books/news paper keeps me updated about the universe.

I don’t know how satisfied was the gentleman with that reply but it came out with vivid lucidity that I was not. It’s too vital a question for every reader to ignore.

It made me to walk again the path of my Childhood. It would have been either Nandan or Chanpak(Hindi comic books,used to be available at every U.P. state bus stop book stores) which would have caught my attention first. The pictures and stories of Nandan/Chankap vaan were so innocent that any kid would like to submerge into it. It slowly became a passion.

Life without Pran’s Chacha Chaudhri in those day where unfathomable. It were not merely simple funny stories which held the attention but also the hilarious pictures which made me spell bound.( To illustrate, how many times we see a man slipping with a sound “Phisalna” or bomb exploding with a sound “Dhamaka”. I sluggishly remember bugging my sisters and brother to narrate those stories while I used to look at those astounding pictures. Indeed Chacha Chaudhri (Note: with a brain faster than a computer) and Sabu (Note: He was from Jupiter planet) played vital role in my literary journey.)

This journey without mention of Nagraj, Super Commando Dhruv, Parmadu, hilarious Bankelal and action man Bhokal would not be complete. These books were fabulous medium to kill the boredom created by books of mathematics tables, science water purification chapters, cramming Australia’s geography and national animal’s etcetera. Audacity to read Chacha Chaudhri in civics class by keeping it between the civics books still spreads impish smile on my face.

But slowly these books got disappeared from my book racks and were replaced by O.P. Agrawal’s Mathematics and J.D. Lee’s non organic Chemistry. It was a hard time but Swed Marten gave the courage to overcome it, and kept that flickering light alive.

Then I laid my hand on a books which put me on the cross roads of a strange journey. It left an unfathomed impression on my conscious mind. Whichever new book I started in those days, it used to end with ‘The Fountainhead’. The Objectivism was initially hard to swallow but slowly Objectivism will swallow you.

‘Siddhartha’ and ‘Auto biography of a Yogi’ came on the way to enlighten this journey.

But now I’m addicted to it. When I am writing this blog and look over my book shelf, I see Sense and Sensibility, the Wealth of Nations, Strange Pilgrims, Of Love and Other Dreams, iCon which gives me an ambivalent feeling. Ironically this adds one more question ‘What am I reading?’ in addition to my previous question. I’m still unanswerable to these questions.

Perhaps it’s intellectual famishment which I am feeding with these books. But it creates a mirage and makes me reading many more in a hope that someday it would sooth this hunger.

All About Reading....

"The difference between reality and fiction? Fiction has to make sense." - Tom Clancy

Reading and books have become parts of my life. It baffles me when someone asks, fiction or nonfiction? How hard it is to apprehend that this is barely a way to show case the books on the shelf of a book shop. As famously said "A book you like resembles a friend. You read it, reread it, getting to know it better. Like a friend you accept it the way it is;you don't judge it". In a nutshell, a books is marvelous piece of art that doesn't age.

I have a very close friend who is a literary giant (till my road cross with someone who could imprint me more than him), he owns eclectic collections of books. How many times have you observed a person holding 13 books in his lap and roaming around in Landmak. He is the one of those kind. And when some attender approaches him with a basket, he murmrs ardently “Books are not commodity, it should be lifted and kept with immense respect” and denies to take the basket.

We have quite a contrast in our discussions about each and every hoo-has happening around this planet, whether it’s Indian media and it's irresponsibility's, American presidency election, French/Italian cinema or even Big Boss-2.

In our last Landmark visit he picked up one book from the shelf and stamped it with must read. It had very unusual title, so was the picture printed on it. But at the same time, I didn’t want to commit the famous crime of judging a books by its cover. On the other hand his last recommendation to me about a short story was a real cataclysm.

(Last month after our Crosswords visit he dropped in my room at 11pm and asked me to read a fabulous story. It certainly erupted rarity in me and I started reading that short story and finished it within 20 minutes. I approached his room to give the book back. He saw something on my face and asked "is everything okay, pal, Isn’t it an excellent story?" I was too atrociously shaken to answer him, I just nodded NOPE and went back to sleep. That book was about a drowned man whose floating swollen body was brought to village by fisher men, and the women of that village were so impressed by that dead body that they could stop watching and depicting it …..)

He has very strong view against a new hot selling author whose 3 books and a recently launched movie are selling in India like Aloo Gobhi. He adds that every Tom, Dick and Harry is writing books now a days, but it doesn't mean that we should be reading all these books. After all What you read is what you are. “We have got an itsy-bitsy life and we better be very selective in whom/what we read” he further adds.

To be continued ….

Future of Social Entrepreneurship in India !

In the words of Muhammad Yunus -

“My experience of working in the Grameen Bank has given me faith; an unshakable faith in the creativity of human beings. It leads me to believe that humans are not born to suffer the misery of hunger and poverty. They suffer now as they did in the past because we turn our heads away from this issue.”

The Wikipedia defines social entrepreneurship as “Social entrepreneurship is the work of a social entrepreneur. A social entrepreneur is someone who recognizes a social problem and uses entrepreneurial principles to organize, create, and manage a venture to make social change.”

The world is seeing a huge opportunity of social entrepreneurship in India. It’s not because of Indian economy is booming and thus making the chances of success of any entrepreneurship venture as gold. But quite the contrary, the social problems are in abundance in our country and millions of social changes are needed which could make the social entrepreneurship a real success.

You don’t often get the chance to discuss such topic with elites and pundits of business and economy. Last evening I was graced with such opportunity to discuss the real nuts and bolts of this evolving phase of business. After our discussions, I found myself really convinced that the future of social entrepreneurship is real bright in India because of following few reasons.

Firstly, the vast and deep rooted social problems in India provide a good market potential for social changes and hence social entrepreneurship. Whether, its illiteracy, rural health, rural credit system or poor education system, these all loose nuts and bolts of this biggest democracy provides an opportunity for optimist entrepreneurs out there in market. The only challenge is, coming up with a strong business model.

In last few weeks, I came across such ventures that have already started working in this direction and have really pioneering in their respective areas. Rakesh Dubey’s Sonata Finance and Manab Chakraborty’s Mimo Finance are the ventures to name a few.

Secondly, there has been phenomenal shift in the thinking of the junta about the purpose of such ventures. They have started to understand that making modest profit out of such opportunities is not at all evil. Indeed, there are well know contemporary like Muhammad Yunus who feel that such ventures should be nonprofit but on the other hand there are social capitalist like Bill Gates who advocates for making modest profit out of such opportunities (refer http://www.microsoft.com/Presspass/exec/billg/speeches/2008/01-24WEFDavos.mspx for detail).

But if we leave the rightness and wrongness of this development and just look at the impact of these ventures on society, it’s phenomenal. The rural credit which was not only difficult to get but also complicated to handle for India rural junta, is becoming really easy and flexible now. The banks, which used to shy away from such lending, have also started seeing future in it (“It’s not people who aren’t credit worthy. It’s banks that aren’t people worthy” -Muhammad Yunus ). Proactive ventures like this are making very strong social impacts.

In conclusion, area like micro financing, rural health, retail supply chain gap (proving better bargain for crop to farmers) provides a fabulous entrepreneurial opportunity for the young generation to bridge the gap between the have and have not’s and make a modest profit at the same time.

Moreover remember that all that is needed for evil to triumph is good people to do nothing.

One whispers, two speak, a few talk but together we CRY out loud!!

“I want to see, real, living, and in the hours of my own days, that glory I create as an illusion. I want it real. I want to know that there is someone, somewhere, who wants it too. Or else what is the use of seeing it, and burning oneself for an impossible vision? A spirit, too, needs fuel. It can run dry.”

The vision, which definitely is not impossible, was abolishing Child Labor, first from our nation and then from this planet. It didn’t take much time, thanks to the platform called CRY, to meet all of us, with the same vision and vigor to wipe this stigma from our nation,

We, a bunch of yuva, first met in a small class room of a Khar school. We all had a common vision – to efface the Child labor beyond recognition.

Since 12th of June (Anti Child Labor day) was reaching, we all agreed that something at warfare level like campaign, need to be ignited as early as possible.

A Campaign is a tool of revolutionaries. The important thing is the revolution. The important thing is revolutionary cause, revolutionary idea, revolutionary objective, revolutionary sentiment, and revolutionary virtues!

The name is “Avalanche”. We decided to go into junta, meet them and wake them up and remind that they are being selfish. Selfish, because a heinous crime called Child Labor is happening right in front of our eyes and we all are numb. Being selfish is being evil.

We don’t say that they have to come on road, even if one forth of our junta CRIES out loud against this evil, our asleep government and local authorities will come alive.

As said by Nobel Prize winner R.K.Pachauri that it is essential to create awareness among the public (us), because at least in the democracies of the world, people will put pressure on the leaders to do what is expected of them.” This, perfectly, was our motive.

We have decided to canalize the junta at public places by reminding them their responsibilities and power as being a citizen of the biggest democracy in this Milky Way. We are providing them the dais to raise their voice against this social evil by writing a letter to local authorities (Labor commissioner) and putting their impression of thumb on the wall, to remind them about the havoc which will happen if they don’t act now.

We are an inspired bunch, with a fortitude and vision to wipe Child labor and provide every kid, the right to enjoy their childhood before they become the part of rat race for survival. Children are not merely resources for an economic machine.

Our inspiration can be molded in the words of Swami Vivekananda – “uotho, jago, aur lakshya ki taraf badho, aur tab tak na ruko jabtak ki lakshya na mile.”

The Avalanche is on...

Three Lives ...concluded !!!

Those 24 hours were the longest and most tiring earth’s gyration of my life. I still find it hard to recollect that when and where I slept that night. But the Time melted, the cruel first light of the sun stroked my eyes and I found my self covered in white sheet on a folding bed at roof top.

When I crawled down, I finally found something to cherish about. There was less foot fall on the floor, found very few shouting and running kids and their parents chasing them, teaching etiquettes and manners as if they have never passed through this stage of life.
I have never understood why these parents burdened their kids with matured thoughts (their definition of mature ness) on the growing kids, without realizing the heinous crime of curbing the amazing joy of childhood.

I spotted Ravi at corner of the dinning hall. When I approached him in order to know about the status of rush (this reminds me about a analogy that when ever you want to measure Inflation in your area buy eggs, of course when there’s no flu killing the birds :) ) and elongation of his muscles, he gave a very happy look.

Perhaps thinking that it’s a right time, he mentioned that since the exodus of relatives was on progress, even he would like a take a half day off. He added that his mother has been diagnosed with tumor in stomach (not very serious type, though) and he has to take her to Lucknow medical college at the end of that week. At last, hesitatingly he added that he needed his accounts to be done, assurancing that he’ll be coming back next week, if needed.

Lately the word ‘hospital’ has started haunting me like never before. First it was Tulsi now its Ravi’s mother; I patted my self for taking a 90 degree turn from that profession after my 12th exams. I believe meeting a code delivery deadline is much happier a job than improving some one’s lifeline everyday.

I assured Ravi that we will be more than happy to give him the money which he deserved and more than that, why a hesitation in asking for something which he was entitled for.
Some time I think that Almighty has definitely got some thing wrong in his Rule book else a 15 year old would not have seen so many difficult moments of life so soon.

Sanjay hurried in front from me that afternoon; making me to think that when did I see him taking rest last time. When I stopped him asking what he is rushing about, he mentioned that every thing should come to normality before he leaves for village next morning. And that included, moving spices back to kitchen, unused cold drink boxes back to store, gas cylinders back to the people whom it belong to …
He was man of never ending agenda and never tiring muscles and attitude.

That night even I started packing my bags. I find this task as toughest part of the journey, thanks to my mom who used to do it for me during my boarding school days, but now I can’t ask her also. I have never understood why people fold their cloths properly even though they know that there’s no guarantee that they will get it intact/fresh at the destination, Hello… we travel in Indian railway, where you have to fight for the bag space under you seat, so what, even if it belongs to you, the other co-traveler came first !!!

All my bags were packed and I was ready to go. I was standing near outside the door, and I hate to raise my hand, and say good bye to every body, but the driver was waiting and blowing the horn.

I felt that I was forgetting something but that feeling was not new, it comes every time (like deja vu ) when I am about to leave. But it has true meaning also, last time I had forgotten my tooth brush, mobile charger and Mumbai’s flat key. So here I saw, trying hard to recollect every thing. But couldn’t find any, perhaps I was improving lately.

Went inside the car, putting my bags on the back seat, I scroll down the window to wave everybody.
Suddenly I realized that I didn’t see Tulsi and his wife in last 24 hours. I asked to my father in loud voice, “how is Tulsi, Papa? Is he back from the hospital? We need to make that guy realize that he is jeopardizing the future of his 4 unmarried girls”

It looked as if he overlooked my question and nodded unwillingly. I asked the driver to slow down and again asked it aloud.

I got a reply that Tulsi was dead, he died with in an hour of his arrival to hospital, while getting his first and last bottle of the syringed diet ……..

Three Lives ... Part V

Just after one and half days of syringed diet, Tulsi was back to work. I was dazed to see him on attic, lying beside HPCL gas cylinder as silent as crud of this lonely planet. “For God sake, take him away from here, why on the earth is he here, get some pity on this poor guy” I squalled. But before his wife answered, I realized that it was as simple as Black and White. They can’t afford his 2 days stay in a private hospital, more over that extra leisure will make him apathetic.

Some say “Time runs” but now I started believing that “Time flies”.
Seconds are converted into minutes, minutes into hours and before you realize it’s another brand new day.

And there I was, tossing and turning into bed on the morning of day zero, too lazy to pull myself out of bed. What amazes me is the fact that how my mother manages to wake up at 4 every morning running, managing all over the house perhaps that’s why moms are called best managers.

I was really proud of my self that morning as I walked towards basing (so what if the eyes were closed). Waking at 9 am (when you are at home) is not at all fun.

Suddenly I saw some thing very unusual; one of my cousin sister was filling some fuzzy but traumatic words in my mother’s ears. It didn’t take much time to conjecture something fishy there. Before she finished the word “Tulsi”, I had climbed those 18 stairs in 3 steps.

The scene in that corner of the room was bone marrow heating.

It looked as if his heart had displaced towards his throat making turbulent blood flow look like a fountain. Adding to the misery, her wife had kept his head in her lap which made her sari blood soaked. Her youngest daughter was crying her throat out as if she was warding ‘Yama’ away.

Moment like that was the true test of your act to work with conviction. I plead both of them to stop making it worst. I took his head in my hand and made him to sit so that the flow stops. It worked, the flow stopped but he looked as if he was struggling to breath. At that moment when I looked towards her daughter I shivered to see the acute pain of being orphan in her eyes.

Before people start standing around us and making this misery a melodrama, I called up my father and sent him SOS signal. I sent one audience from the crowd to bring 'Dr Misra' who practices round the corner. With assistance from other audience, I lifted him up and rushed outside.

But there was no Dr Misra outside; I gave a puzzled look towards standing crowd. I was then told that Dr Misra didn’t like to be bothered in morning before 10am. Perhaps lives struggling between 9am to 5pm were not his area of interest.

But another fact was, Dr Misra had married women half of her age even though her first wife was alive, and that made him untouchable in society. That was very common of our society who definitely does not poke its nose in someone’s personal life. And of course we were part of that society.

My father moved forward and checked his pulse; he was still standing tall in the war against his life. Driver started the vehicle and we moved Tulsi with her wife, who was still holding her head. Father called up few doctor and assured her wife that they are already there for him, and he also accompanied them to the hospital.

Once the vehicle moved away from our focal point, everybody rushed back to normality as nothing had happened few minutes back.

*****

It happens only in marriages when you realize that inflation is touching Milky Way. Aloo,pyaj and Kathal are just half in price in wholesale mandi than city’s open bazaar. No doubt middle men in market will run for life once organized retailer like Wall mart or Ambani try to capitalize this profit.

For a change, buying aloo, puaj and Kathal in ton was really exciting, more over your talent to dig the relation or influence the wholesale vala, so that he gives some discount is a real art. What amazed me was the fact that how these middle men make money by creating a gap in supply chain in the mandi. Shimla Mirch which was in demand that morning (thanks to the Lagan) was saling crazy, and realizing this fact, its price was already tripled before 11 o’clock in morning, the exact one hour before the arrival of the truck. It’s very hippocratic of our politicians and government, who claims that Kala Bazari has been removed long back from India.

Arranging, monitoring and getting things done on time, is quite a challenge in any wedding. Sanjay, Ravi and everybody were on there toes that day. Sanjay took special care of the cooks so that they don’t slip the stuff in there bags. It seems, they demand every thing at least one and half what is needed, and slip the remaining half in there bags. First I thought it was very cynical of us, how can some one be so avaricious, but once my eyes became the witness, I had no option but to put Sanjay behind them. He was a man who can make a slow and not steady to win the race.

No marriage arrangement in this world is perfect. Even when Tom Cruse married her fiancée Kate in castle but didn’t invite media to cover it, they bitched about there marriage. But people, that day, liked our arrangements, except few nay sayers, but no body give a damn to such creatures.

to be continued ...

Three Lives ... Part IV

Some say “Time runs” but I believe “Time jumps”. The day was coming closer as the earth was gyrating on its axis.
The whispering was spread all around in house that morning, and kept on increasing as inflation in India. I couldn’t keep my self in bed and woke up at ungodly hour of 7 am. I had to ask the girl, who comes for sweeping and was present at that time, about the raison d'être of that Careless Whisper.

It was Tulsi, it seems he was drinking to death these days. But his wife and daughters were gritty enough to fight with Yamraj, (with the help of Doctor, of course) every time.
He was hospitalized last night when he came highly drunk and started vomiting blood after dinner. He was rushed to a nearby private nursing home and made to drink glucose (with needles in his vein) for a change.

It was not Tulsi’s health which was reason of panic that morning (do we really care so much about a cook??? That would be so human!!) but what troubled everyone was “Who has the courage to cook Kachauri and lunch for 35 people.” The zenith of inhumanity was reached when unhappiness was expressed for the absence of Tulsi and I was asked to troubleshoot this problem. I didn’t have any way but to approach my sister who knew few servants in her locality (she had provided us Tulsi, by the way).

Looking at the sensibility of the matter my sister called up few servants. Some how, Tulsi’s wife came to know about this hunt and she rushed towards my sister’s apartment. Her face was pale and it was written all over on her face that she had not taken even a nap last night. Her wretched voice came out with a whisper “Didi,Humare rahte aap kisi aur ko kyu khooj rahi hai?” I looked towards my sister with a “That would be inhuman!!” expression. Reading my face, my sister assured her that she need not to worry about money and work, and should take care of her ailing husband.

But Tulsi’s wife was not ready to go back, she mentioned that her husband is much better now and more over it’s not first time that he was rushed to the hospital in the mid of night. She added that her daughters were at the nursing home to take care of him.

I didn’t see any other way but to take her on my bike to home, already my cell phone has sung “Aane vala pal jaane vala hai” 5 times in last half an hour. A gentle breeze of relief was visible on everybody face once they saw Tulsi’s wife with me. My mother asked her about Tulsi’s health and mentioned that her presence at hospital was more important than here. But after hearing the improving condition of her husband she allowed her to start work.

Things came to normality once everybody had their breakfast, it seems that Tulsi’s wife had a better hand at spice than her husband. Ravi was as usual busy serving everybody even though a sign of grief was visible on his face. May be Tulsi was not his relative but only a co-worker, but definitely he was the one who helped him at the time of need.

to be continued ...

Three Lives ... Part -III

******
Sanjay
******

They say that it’s 80% motivation and only 20% brawn power and etcetera which makes success possible. Napoleon di Buonaparte lost in the war or Waterloo not because of strong coalition forces but due to low motivation of his army in bitter cold of Russia.The self motivated people in this country are as rare as Bose or Azad.

When he came along with me first time for shopping, his face looked familiar. I didn’t ask much about him thinking that he will feel bad as he looked comfortable and confident in coming along(more over I don’t know what’s wrong with me but most of the faces look familiar to me nowadays, specially the people from Venus :-)), in contrary to the other available assistors in the house, whose first facial reaction is generally “NOT AGAIN.”

He was there with me the whole day helping, arranging the stuffs for the function which was merely 2 days away. At one time sitting with bags and containers on Riksha, another time holding bags behind me on the bike; he was a great doer and helper.
Next day noon, when some labor monitoring job (The most difficult one, “Great Lord, It’s difficult to get work done through laborers from north as they need Khaini break, on every 15 minutes”) was commanded to me I was as nervous as my first day in my college campus. I looked towards Sanjay; he gave me a gentle “I WILL HANDLE THAT” nod. To my amazement the work was done in afternoon which everybody was expecting (looking at the pace and 15 minute break things of the laborers) to be done till evening. “He knows how to handle these men” commented my father when I appreciated Sanjay’s proactiveness and assistance.

The very thought that came in my mind was, “perhaps he was a right man at wrong place and job.” The corporate world hunt for the people like him who are Doers and problem solvers and of course very rare to find now a days. At work the point which I mention to my team is “You all are hired, not to come and tell the problem (as most of us do, when we face some obstacle at work) but to find the solution and solve it.” As it has been wisely said "world is not interested in storms you encountered but in whether you brought the ship in safely."

Sanjay is from my native village, few years back when he was badly clawed in a property dispute by his relatives, that’s when my father stood with him and helped him (with the influence of Big guns of village) and till this day, he comes to meet and stand with my father whenever he hears that he is visiting village.


to be continued .....

Three Lives ... Part-II

And that’s where the struggle of that young lad started. His mother started working in a private nursing home as maid, and Ravi started assisting is neighbor Tulsi in his cooking assignments to get some extra money and help her mother.
So here he was, a 15 something lad, running, sweating and earning few hundreds on contrary to any Mumbai’s 15 something school going lad, who go bowling, eat in Mac D, watch movie in PVR with salted popcorn and spend many hundreds every month.

When I enquired Ravi, about his literary status he replied that he will be writing 8th grade exam this summer. He also mentioned that he studies every night after going back from work. I couldn’t dare to ask further to but to extol his courage and pat his back.

---------
Tulsi
---------

That day during lunch everybody complained about the less salty and spicier curry in the lunch. I was commanded to talk to Tulsi and summon him on this. When I went upstairs kitchen, seeing me coming, a thin figure unfolded thrice, turning towards me it asked, “Namaste Bhaiya, kuchh kam pad gaya kya neeche.” He was a slender, red yellowish eyed, weak adult or it looked like that either was born and evolved week or he was drinking maniac.
“I have been provided grinded, readymade garam masala that’s that’s why every curry has same taste and ending badly” responded he apologetically after listening my concern.
Once I assured him that I’ll provide him sabut Garam Masala without dal chini, he looked happy and assured me for a tasty dinner that night.

I was not stunned that night when I came to know that Tulsi was a regular drinker and daily visitor to doctor due to his nasty drinking habit. What socked me about him was, he has 5 Laxmis at home and till this lagan he was able to find the dulha for only two of them. I remembered the words of some anonymous indolent that the best way to get away with any problem is "drink hard and sleep lengthy".

Three Lives

From the day I was philosophically enlightened by Ayn Rand’s Fountainhead till this jiffy, I look around and observed that not even a single Howard Roark exists on this lonely planet. Now I have realized that perhaps Ayn’s projection of an ideal man was too fictions to be true.

But in last few days my road crossed with few lives that shifted my paradigm about life. These three lives and their experiences were so extraordinary that my challenges and problems looked minuscule in front it.

“Ravi….Ravi come down and get me a bottle of shampoo”, “Ravi, how much time it will take for breakfast to get ready” , “Ravi…. Ravi milk vala is waiting outside, why don’t you fetch the milk dibba, yaar”.

My first question to my mom that morning was, "Who on the earth is Ravi, Meteshwari (I call my mom lovingly as Meteshwari) and is he some Chinese ping pong player as flexible that he will be ubiquitous for everybody’s service”. “Ravi, is 15 year old lad, who has come with Tulsi to assist him in cooking” replied my mom. “And who is Tulsi by the way” I fired back another query. “Tulsi is our cook for next 4-5 weeks as we are expecting a herd of our relatives in few days” replied she, patiently.
After few minutes, Ravi, aka Chinese ping pong player rushed in front of me. My first impression was “whose kid is this? I haven’t seen him coming with any of my relative and why is he wearing an old shirt?” He didn’t look like a laborer at all, he was more like a next door Shrivastav ji’s kid, who goes to school and enjoy his childhood. “Bhaiya, shall I fetch you a bucket of water, water tank is empty and electricity will come after 2 hours” asked he. “I can wait for 2 hours Ravi, no problems” I replied.

I couldn’t stop myself that afternoon, asking my mother that Ravi looks like a nice school going lad from a good family, why is he breaking his muscles running in and out of house. And the story that came out about that kid was more tear-jerking than Clint Eastwood movies.

Life of Ravi was going normal till last autumn; his parents were managing to drag them self just tan gently to the poverty line (below or above? Does it really matter!!!). Father was a 4th grade servant in a private firm but an every “evening drinker”. Mother was not keeping well but being a Mother India she was keeping her kid tidy and regular to school.

His life changed one evening when, while coming back from work his drunken father scratched his bicycle to a group of rowdy bunch, in the out skirts of the city. And when they slapped him for that DISASTROUS COLLISON, he couldn’t stop himself of abusing and cursing those men. Next morning 7 pieces of his body were found scattered in a near by field.

To be continued…..

Train to India

Few truths to be told first, I still travel in second class of Indian railways, love to eat Srikhand from Bhopal, Lalmohan from Urai and salted Lassi from Jhansi station.
Yes, even if it’s crowded, stacked with the people with general tickets asking you to adjust on your reserved seat.
Yes, even after completing 4 years in corporate word, working with a prestigious organization and drawing a moderately ‘Tankhvah’ every month.

To most of my friends and relative it sounds very bizarre as they feel that one should maintain their status and move with the junta of their standard (as though traveling in AC-2 or AC-3 decides the social standardJ).

Well, I tried to travel in elite class on Indian railways and if I keep aside the people who feel proud to travel in that class, I somehow didn’t like the ambience at all.
Let me start with the seat first, in the words of one of my lady co-traveler and constructive critic “It’s 21st Century India but we are still given the bed sheets analogous to hospitals bed sheets (with crystal visible spots of course) and blankets alter ego to the Arthur Road/Tihar jail blankets“. Towels is some thing which you need to ask at least twice to get it delivered at your seat as attainder thinks that elite class travelers gets greedy and slips it in theirs bags.

It’s not only the SL class where cockroach and mouses give you the company but the elite class as well.

Now coming to Sah Yatri (co-traveler) end, it's elite class where I realized that the acerbic comment punched on our bunch by a Swiss lady during our Swiss tour that “You Indian are loud” was not wrong at all. Good Lord, it’s difficult to read or sleep once a political discussion starts, people put their throat out to curse the ruling government or deteriorating infrastructure around. It’s not that this discussion doesn’t happen in SL class but fortunately the noise and curse generated get submerged with the rail track sound and makes it uniform.

I don’t want to sound negative or cynical by omitting these comments on Indian Railways elite class, it’s just that as “HUM BHARAT KE LOG” (remember, the first line of our constitution) climbing socio economic ladder rapidly it’s Railways as well as the Junta, both need to change.
The best way would be utilizing the hefty profit of Railways and converting all railway classes SL and General as elite class. Every Indian has right to travel safe, healthy and elite.