Branwyn is the Goddess of love, beauty, mischief and mystery. It also relates to genuine literature. The name has been tossed by Lavkesh Kumar Singh.
Editorial :
My Dear Readers,
Publisher and Director Vineeta Gupta
Founder and Editor-in-Chief Sneha Gupta
Mentor Dr. Subodh Kumar Jha
Managing Editor Parul Parihar
Tech Support Rahul Kumar Singh
Legal and Financial Advisor Abhishek Singhania
Contacts: Email : snehagupta01989@gmail.com sneha@branwyn.in
I am delighted to churn out the First Anniversary Issue of Branwyn this month. I and my entire team congratulate you for having supported us throughout the past one year by your invaluable suggestions and critiques. No piece of literature can ever progress without its readers. And, I must tell you that you are and shall be our Sole Guide and Patrons for all our present and future endeavors. Let me recollect that the mission of our magazine is to give a delightful reading experience to the lovers of popular fiction with their very ‘own’ magazine of popular fiction and simultaneously providing a platform to those millions of hidden writers who want to write but do not find an encouraging platform to vent out their talent. I assure you that we shall continue to give space to such writers in our upcoming issues and keep adding further more interesting segments. Once again, my sincerest thanks to you and I wish that we shall continue to nurture under your perennial guidance and support. With lots of wishes,
Website : www.branwyn.in
Sincerely,
Sneha Gupta
When Sneha told me about her magazine I knew that there is something very different and interesting in pipeline. I wouldn’t say that I haven’t seen better magazines than Branwyn, but yes, the remarkable success which Branwyn has got, itself defines its freshness and wide acceptability. The content of Branwyn makes the biggest contribution in its success. And yes, not to forget its easy and wide circulation. I congratulate each and every member of Branwyn Family. Dr. Subodh, Mr. Gaurav, Mr. Koushik, Mr. Lavkesh, Miss Parul and every person associated with Branwyn deserve a wide applause. Branwyn’s first anniversary is really a moment of celebration. But it is just the beginning. And for Sneha, it is just a single step towards success. You have a long way to go and greater heights to scale.
My heartfelt wishes to entire Branwyn Family comprising the writers and readers. Wishing all of you a grand future ahead.
- Shailesh Kumar, Bureau Chief, Hindustan, Hajipur
Branwyn is like a shining star in the sky of Indian Literature. The achievements of Branwyn itself speak about its capabilities. I really appreciate the endless efforts of all the people behind the scene.
I wish such moments of celebrations become a routine for Branwyn. And with every passing year, Branwyn shine more brilliantly. I wish Branwyn to reach in every corner of the world and in everybody’s hands. I wish Branwyn to become a global magazine of Indian Literature. Sneha, great job! Keep it up! God bless you, my dear!
- Dr. Meera Singh, Principal, Women’s College
Branwyn Success Saga Branwyn’s first issue – Feb 2013. An attempt appreciated by Times of India.
Branwyn’s second issue – March 2013. Got published on “Top of the World” website attaining a readership of 4,00,000.
Branwyn’s third issue – April 2013.
Branwyn’s fourth issue – May-June 2013. Appreciations followed with huge email subscriptions. Branwyn got registered email subscriptions via 3 email groups [googlegroups] with aggregate 6,10,000 members. And thus Branwyn shared joy with its 10,00,000, readers.
Branwyn’s fifth issue – JulyAugust 2013. A new experiment.
Branwyn’s sixth issue – Sep-Oct 2013. Success story goes on…
Branwyn’s seventh issue – NovDec 2013. The Christmas Special edition which made readers fall in love with Branwyn again…
Branwyn’s eighth issue – Jan 2014.
The magic continues…
Three Questions : Faraaz Kazi Faraaz Kazi hardly needs any introduction. Just adding a formal touch, is a versatile personality- a writer, entrepreneur, management guru, singer, soft-skills trainer, media man, all rolled in one! The author of romance fiction TRULY, MADLY, DEEPLY and horror fiction THE OTHER SIDE, Faraaz is one of the most promising writers of India and a source of inspiration for others. In spite of his extremely busy schedule, Faraaz managed some time for an interview for Branwyn readers.
Branwyn : What is your stand on the possibilities of earning livelihood as a full time writer?
Faraaz : It's still not a reality in India unless you happen to draw five points on someone while spending a night in a call centre and making three mistakes of your life in two different states and hoping for a revolution by the year 2020. This is definitely what young India wants (esp. young writers) but the truth is at quite some distance.
Faraaz Kazi
Branwyn : Don’t you think that true love stories should be published under the nonfiction category?
Faraaz : It all depends on how one writes it. Whether one fictionalizes or introduces himself/herself as the primary protagonist, what is the degree of fact/fiction and many such aspects. I'm not against writing one's own life story but it is kind of cheap when people look to leverage relationships to sell a book. It shows one's character when to put it simply their strongest marketing appeal is 'My girlfriend dumped me/passed away/ran off, please buy my book.’ If it is not marketed that way then it's a good thing because writing itself is cathartic and every individual's experiences are different, it gives the reader a good view of life in general.
Faraaz in his famous Nawaab style
Branwyn : A classy romantic Faraaz with Truly, Madly, Deeply and then a scary Faraaz with The Other Side! Should we get prepared for a Comic Faraaz with your next book?
Faraaz : Vous ne savez jamais! (You never know!)
Thanks for being with us Mr. Faraaz Kazi. Branwyn Family wishes you all the very best in all your future endeavours.
A delightful tale of Love and Passion : Daniel’s Diary Feature Cover Story : SOURINDHRI
Daniel‘s Diary, a book, hundreds of people have been talking about from various parts of India, is now creating a world of magic in the book stores. As I write this piece, the book is looking at me, gracefully - like an enchanting fairy princess, waiting for the artist to paint her beauty on the canvas, with the full cognizance that the artist will not be able to reveal the whole charm to the viewer! The cover of the book is the gateway to that magical world of the Mughal Emperor, the Hindu princess, the innocent - emotional artist Mrinalini and her friends and love interests. The very title, Daniel’s Diary is engraved in gold that has adorned the crowns of the great emperors of India, the color which is the embodiment of the charismatic Indian woman, the symbol which reflects beauty, love, pride and power. Daniel’s Diary carries all these elements as the gateway welcomes us to the world of this book. A picture of a diary, left open, on the cover, instigates us to know what is written in it, adding the aroma of mystery which persists till the vague end of the book. Of course, there are more elements on the cover: picture of the remnants of an antique building, with some green leaves, which stand out as the symbol of the present and of course, the majestic sword. If you are wondering, why am I talking about the cover, well, I would like to say that the cover is one of the axis of this magical world and of course, in order to know and understand the dimension, it is important to know about the axis too. The back cover of the book is blessed by the words of the Ketan Mehta, the veteran film maker, director and poet of the Silver Screen. From the very comments of this reputed personality, it becomes clear to all that the book is not the ‘use and throw types ‘which are over flooding the market. It has been created by dedication, hard work and sincerity. A delightful tale of discovery and passion with finely etched characters, careful detailing of ambience and atmosphere, and nuanced play of emotions. -Ketan Mehta Veteran Film Maker, Director and Poet of Silver Screen
Before proceeding to other aspects, I would like to talk about the mother of this wonderful child. She is not Aphrodite who created Cupid, the notorious flying chap who uses his powers to make people fall in love. She is Rajeswari Chauhan, a freelance writer, an artist and a teacher. She doesn’t need to give her baby, weapons to make people fall in love for her child has been created with those elements, passed on to him by the mother which makes people fall in love; there is really no need to throw an arrow. And, of course, it is not just love, it something beyond love… a mystery… a journey. The very title of the book, ‘Daniel’s Diary’ makes us wonder, if this is about the diary of some guy called Daniel, then why people are calling this, a novel? Remember Rabindranath’s Tagore’s Chaturanga? It was a diary written under the genre of the novel. Take a look at Quarratulain Hyder’s novel, Aag Ka Dariya or The River of Fire - It is a novel too and then again it has /diary, letters, verses and what not. Yes, all these are novels and their creators have acquired space among the most erudite authors of the world. Novel, as a
genre was a typically western concept, which has come down to us, Indians, through the British Raj. Writing from within this foreign tradition, Rabindranath Tagore and Qurratulain Hyder worked out their way, creating new spaces and scopes for the genre of the Indian novel, extending the limit of the horizon of expectation to an unlimited universe, making it more difficult for the scholars to define the parameters of the novel, specially the Indian novel. This new tradition, which has started with Tagore, got its wings in the able hands of Quarratulain Hyder, is now conquering the skies of the world like a majestic phoenix. Rajeshwari Chauhan is the most deserving heir to this tradition and this Rajput artist, with her glorious legacy of Padmini and others has surely proved her potential and capability. The chapters are numbered, not named. Rajeshwari Chauhan has given us the full freedom to think of the title of the chapters and has not restricted us within the contours of her own imagination. The novel starts with an omnipresent narrator, who talks about Mrinalini and seems to know everything about everyone. As we delve deep into the novel, we find this narrator being replaced by the character, who reads out from Daniel’s Diary; the omnipresent narrator’s voice and the character, reading Daniel Diary’s play hideand-seek, and ends with the voice of the narrator, completing the cycle of narration. However, besides using the form of a diary, Rajeshwari Chauhan has incorporated verses, from old traditions, adding a beautiful lyrical note to the prose narrative.
It is not easy to say the theme of the book. The apparent theme of love and mystery take up a whole new level through art and the process of creation. Here, every work of creation, speaks for itself and its creator. In the same way, Daniel’s Diary speaks volumes for the wisdom, versatility, creative aura and the adroit command over language of Rajeshwari Chauhan, the paintings, the diary and the music speak for those who created them and those who were performing them. Daniel’s quest for beauty and passion, the ecstasy and agony of love, gets intertwined with Mrinalini’s quest and in turn reflects the one which is within our heart and soul. When the walls of reality block our claustrophobic soul, when the chaotic feelings try to burst out in tears, when the dark smoke of agony denigrates our mind, creativity offers the halcyon meadow where blossoms our unique flowers of art, be it a verse, composed when the muse has turned down, a music when the anklets have refused to sing, a painting when the canvas fails to bear the colors and above all, a feeling of loving someone deeply, and not being loved back. A-midst the thick thorns and fears of rejection and dejection, Daniel’s voice comes out, “Love can never fail, Mahabali. At least your beloved knows about your love for her… but my beloved is not even aware of my love for her! I know that my love is unattainable, but for me it is enough that I love her. It doesn’t matter whether she loves me or not.” (Daniel’s Diary - pg 183). It is a journey through love and creation, a journey of love on the wings of creations, a journey which has started since ages, like the old waters of a river, and continues the flow till they converge somewhere, at some different locus and realize the true nature of the journey, start discovering the soul, which has been sleeping within. In the core of the main plot, lies Daniel’s search for beauty and passion, his deep love for the courtesan Mahamaya, whom he loses and leaves behind a diary which falls in Mrinalini’s hands. Mrinalini, a young lady and a passionate artist, undertakes the journey to decode the clues left by Daniel. A cheerful, a little messy, ebullient young lady, Mrinalini is an artist by passion and when relationships confuse her, leaving her alone in her own self, art is that phoenix which creates the escape route to her and becomes her real Prince Charming. The novel makes us fall in love, makes us believe in love even when we are not loved back. The characters of the novel are extremely well depicted and well-drawn. Each and every character has his or her own flaws. They are not ‘too good’ or ‘too bad’ in nature. They are just like
us, normal human beings; they ‘err’ because they are human beings, just like us. Starting from Mrinalini to the cute Bubbles, the characters seem to act out the novel while you read it. Even though the main motif is love, it is not always, ‘love love love makes the world go round’ type of thing; of course, love makes the world go round but this world of Daniel’s Diary is dependent on mystery and creation too to keep itself alive. The comic reliefs delineate the author’s ingenuity to write something, not so serious, in a very serious temperament. The detailing of paintings and sculptures of the Mughal era , the portrayal of the court , the men and women , the use of contemporary colloquial language reveals the painstaking research that has been done on the Mughal era , reflecting the author’s sincere dedication towards her readers. The way, love has been portrayed here is quite different and unique from the ones we see in the market these days. Chetan Bhagat has been followed by Durjoy Dutta, and their blind disciples, who are spamming the market with clichéd love stories. It is always a man, writing from science or engineering background ; the male protagonist is always some chauvinist nerd who ends up in one of the greatest institutes of India, IIT or IIM, and then falls in love with some pretty chick, of course, who has to be someone from a different stream, does some so called ‘adult things’ with her, which apparently creates a problem and then ultimately, the male protagonist solves the problems with his ‘super – cool’ brain and emerges as ‘the hero’. These novels or so called ‘chick-lits’ are now being sold everywhere, starting from coffee parlors to almost all stores of the metropolis. When one gets bored, disturbed, irritated and annoyed by these, when you wonder about the future of this publishing industry, Daniel’s Diary comes to us like an angel, restoring the lost faith and the hope that yes, there are original writers like Rajeshwari Chauhan, who has dedicated their lives to creativity, who has given ‘love’ a new meaning, who has created a new way to look at love and who has shown us the sweetness in the pain of love, when the beloved doesn’t love you back. The novel celebrates love and creativity along with pinches of other emotions; even envy, one of the so called seven sins, actually mollifies the wear and tear of the thorns of love. The language of the book is a jewel of its own. It flows smoothly through the novel, along with the wonderful verses; the words have been
carefully chosen and cleverly woven into the theme and the plot of the novel. The sweet – scented words adorn the whole body of the novel’s language like the olive crown on Athena’s head. The language of the book keeps the readers engrossed and the author doesn’t need the help of the contemporary colloquial slangs to keep the readers engaged with the book. Like all other elements, the language too makes you fall in love with the book, once again. The editing of the book, layout, and printing makes the book complete. This is an era, when some ‘wanna be writers’ and self-proclaimed bestselling authors’ claim that editors are ‘paid’ to correct the grammatical errors of the work. This issue arises the question, that if an editor is there to correct all sorts of silly high school grammatical errors, then what are writers for ? So if one imagines and writes down something without knowing the basic grammar of the language, he or she becomes an author? It, kind of, sounds like a sequel to the recently released Bollywood flick, ‘Anybody Can Dance’, which may be named as ‘Anybody Can Write’! This apparent writer-editor enmity eventually gets reflected in most the books where you find silly grammatical errors on the 1st page; in these cases, the writer blames the editor while the editor humiliates the writer by asking him or her to go back to high school. This in turn, makes the critics confused; who should be blamed. Well, I am not defending the editor, but honestly, if one looks the point of the editor, it is very easy to understand the situation; the writer writes the book of errors and the editor has to correct it; the writer gets fame and money while the editor gets a little remuneration; the writer thinks editor should do it while the poor editor gets frustrated by the horrible mistakes and decides not to take the pain for the book, in the end, belongs to the author. In this author – editor battle, the book remains the victim. But Daniel’s Diary emerges the winner in this field too. There is no trace of war, not a single grammatical error, spelling mistakes or even error in punctuation marks – at least, I couldn’t notice any! The book reflects the true dedication of the author and the true scholarship of the author and her strong, firm base of grammar.
Daniel’s Diary is one of the books that one should ‘own’, ‘read’ and ‘feel’. It leaves you thinking and makes you go back to the 1st page once again. It is a book which you can read and re- read and the toughest job is when you are asked to talk about the book, you feel, you need to read it again in case you miss out on something. The book is a researcher’s delight. Personally, after my 1st ‘read’, the very 1st thing that came to my mind was, ‘I will teach this book to my students in future’. This book is here to stay and bears the potential to withstand the storms of time. It is not like the ‘best-sellers’ which get replaced almost each and every other day. It belongs to that category of books which are kept in the section for fiction, non-fiction and classics. ‘Veni…Vidi...Vici…’ Yes, the book came and conquered the Indians like the white flower blooming in the dark smoke.
It seldom happens that a book gets smashingly wonderful reviews by one and all. To add flavor to the book’s already glittering success, prominent author Ashwina Garg’s words add few more mesmerizing charms to the book – “Rajeshwari's Daniel's Diary is very well-written and well-researched book. It's obvious that the author has taken great pains to make sure that each aspect of the novel is perfect. There's something for everyone here... romance, humour, poetry, history, mystery, art and many captivating characters. It made me realize that a book does not need sleazy scenes and smutty words to be entertaining and thank you for that. I wish the author, Rajeshwari Chauhan all the best for her books.‖
- Ashwina Garg, [Author of SPICY BITES OF BIRYANI]
Glimpses of the Magical Tale…..
Alpine Ambergris : Dr. Subodh Kumar Jha
Memory -Pressure
Last night the memory- pressure mounted suddenly and the pulsing ache of betrayal surged deep into me!
With smouldering lead in my eyes I shored the gulf of three years To the seeding-centre that paddled my adult dreams Amidst the hissing breath of the June winds only to nurse me as a staring frown upon the unparented patterns Of our sleeveless surroundings
Should I refool with them now? Or make a starved protest against the devouring system On a grey chariot of Charted flames? (c) Subodh Kr. Jha Dr. Subodh Kumar Jha Head, Dept of English S.N. Sinha College, Jehanabad Magadh University, Bodh Gaya
Dr. Subodh Kumar Jha has been a member of NCERT and UGC Workshops for the proficiency of English Language in various study streams! At present, he is a prominent part of Magadh University as the Head of Department of English in S.N. Sinha College! He honoured Branwyn with his special segment titled "ALPINE AMBERGRIS". Alpine means mountain peak which denotes Subodh Sir's intellectual persona and Ambergris means a fragrant substance found at sea level. Thus, "Alpine Ambergris" together denotes the combination of an intellectual person like Subodh Sir and novice writers like us who are just trying to make a difference!
Colonel Mahip Chadha Colonel Mahip Chadha is a retired army officer residing in New Delhi, India. A graduate of the Indian Military Academy, Chadha served in the Indian Army for nearly 34 years. During this time, he served in the Third Gorkha Rifles—his inspiration for the novel. Colonel Chadha is the author of GRIT GUTS and GALLANTRY-which motivates the youth of India to consider the Army as a viable career option. He also wrote two more novels -SOLJER SOLJER in which he describes life in the infantry and also GIN and LIME WHISKEY or WINE? –a spotlight on how veterans find themselves very uneasy when they hang up their uniform and boots but continue with their zest for quality life by ignoring their twilight years, failing health and take umbrage by using humour as a new weapon against Alzheimer or dementia!. Asked about why he has only written about the defense forces-Colonel Chadha replies with a twinkle in his eyes-A common Indian citizen has little or no idea of the Indian Armed Forces, he says .It’s important that I give readers an inside look at what it’s truly like to be a soldier in the Indian infantry, and the brotherhood and sacrifice involved. Colonel Chadha has published GRIT GUTS AND GALLANTRY –The Officers and Gentlemen Of the Indian Army, through Rupa Publications in India. This is a motivational book and serves to act as a much needed career counseling requirement, for students of classes 9 to 12, so that they can consider the Armed Forces of India as a viable career. It also assists children in the National Cadet Corps to understand the Army better. Other Ranks seeking a commission will also benefit from it! Colonel Chadha was married to Kiran, who passed away tragically in April 2010. They have two daughters-Ganiv the elder, is married to Inderjit and has one son Jaskirat ; while Jyotan lives in Australia with her husband Daljit and two sons Jaskaran and Jaskabir. Mahip lives with his mother in law Mrs Gurdip Sethi who actually encouraged him to write! His book SOLJER SOLJER is a story based on an imaginary infantry battalion of the Third Gorkha Rifles the Sixth battalion. The composition, training, camaraderie, and duties in all the other infantry battalions of our Army are almost the same except that certain customs undergo a change as they adapt to the ethnicity of the troops in that Regiment. So the visible changes would be the manner of the battle cry, salutation, greeting, decorum in festivity with the troops, or ceremonials in the Officer's Mess. There is no difference in the dogged determination or the ferocity in the will of troops of these troops in completing any mission allotted to their battalions! The author has very clearly brought out the joys of the simple infantry life and the deeply embedded love, affections and stoic ethnic involvement that officers enjoy with their men. This is brotherhood in its purest form. GIN and LIME WHISKEY or WINE? Old Fogies-or veterans retire from all the armies of the world. This is also synonymous with the advent of growing old, being misunderstood because the younger generation has a different view point about every subject since they are digital in their thought process. This book is a tribute to the old timers who laugh away their blues, crack jokes and keep abreast of things in their nation and the world. This is the modus operandi of living life to the full, avoiding loneliness indulging in camaraderie and looking out for each other despite their ill health. It is respect, love and respect bundled together for each member of the group as they traverse their twilight years A story of love, adventure, wit and courage of old soldiers who are veterans of the World War and still laugh at their follies The Colonel feels that this book will allow retired officers from the Defense services and others from service backgrounds to understand the nuances of getting older and dealing with situations which appear more difficult in old age than they did when they were younger. He feels that seniors need to prepare themselves to realistic conditions before they enter the Twilight Zone They must learn to keep in touch with realities, get rid of unnecessary baggage at a younger age and then enjoy old age with a flourish The secret to living a charmed life is of course Colonel Mahip Chadha has now started writing, in the hope that his reminiscences will inspire you youngsters to serve the country, just as he did. He has now started a new helpline for young first time authors under the banner of YS Books International. The website for this company can be found at : ysbooksinternational.com
Mr. Incandescent Speaks… Sita must go…
“ Komal chitta, ati deen dayala. Karan binu Raghu Naath kripala”. (He has a soft heart and is extremely loving towards those who need him. He is kind to everyone, unconditionally, even if he has no reasons of being so.) - Tulsidas (Aranyakaanda of Ramcharitmanas-1.3.33) This is the verse that follows the poignant description of Ram performing the last rights of Jatayu-the vulture, who is a ‗sinner bird‘ and ‗the eater of rotting carrion‘. The sanyasi king does it with his own two hands, like a son- a privilege that his own father, the great king Dashrath never got from him. The sanyasi king. The warrior par excellence. The kind hearted. The one who defines the paradigm of duty and righteousness. The leader for whom even monkeys are willing to lay down their lives. The administrator whose governance is quoted as an idealist state( RamRajya is till date a synonym of good governance). The strategist who is impossible to beat in battle. The human who is god for teeming millions for hundreds of years. That is what has been said for generations. What has not been said is… He is also the greatest lover you will know. He takes on the most powerful king in the world singlehandedly, just with his brother by his side. He is the hunk with whom no one messes. And with such martial capabilities, he is the most humble character you will ever encounter- he is seen bowing before everyone who should bow to. He accepts and plums from his devotee belonging to the lowest strata of the society, even when he knows they have been tasted by her before being offered. And then…he sends off his pregnant wife to the jungle on an exile.
I run several risks here. Calling the great Ram a ‗lover‘ and a ―hunk‘ would have the selfappointed torch bearers of religion sway swords- for the modern terminology being associated with ‗their God‘ may look offensive to any fanatic. And calling him a loving husband earns one the wrath of all feminists is various hues and colours. Unfortunately, both of them are the two extremes of fanaticism and ignorance. The religious zealots fail to see the human in Ram; the humble human who is not just kind but also tolerant. The feminists don‘t want to see the aspect that had Ram take the action- for this is an unparalleled example of how woman have traditionally been treated unjustly for centuries. Indeed, nothing is more difficult to see than something which you don‘t want to see. So, why did Ram send off his pregnant and faithful wife for an exile? No one can justify sending off a pregnant woman to exile, even if she may be guilty of infidelity. Ram should not be forgiven for that. Except for the fact that he didn‘t know she was pregnant. Simple as that. He didn‘t know. Several instances reveal that to us. Coming to the exile itself. The common question- how was he a lover if he isolated his wife because of doubt, suspicion, on charges of infidelity? I have heard feminists on this, and through various sources. They have unanimously appeared intolerant on this, and have gone on not just to observe that the flaw in the ‗Indian‘ way of thinking is evident in this, and this is an example of the prevailing male chauvinism. What is even more evident that a more ‗prudent‘ breed‘ thinks that this is an example where a supposed god showed that he was human, but to respect religious sentiments they would be kind enough not to discuss this. That is why their ignorance is evident, if not pitiable in certain cases.
The Ramcharitmanas is not just an epic example of discourses in leadership, but is also a spectacular guideline of defining governance. Let us look into the matter objectively. The protagonist‘s love for his beloved is not just unquestionably established, it is exemplary as well. The rescue is not just a saga of valor, strategy and sacrifice, it is also a supreme example of how a war can be positioned as a symbolic war between the righteous and evil rather than an operation to rescue a beloved from the clutches of an insolent and mighty ruler. So why must Sita go, when a lowely washerman claims that he ‗suspects‘ the character of the queen who spent days in the house of a notorious ruler? Is it the rather archaic treatment of infidelity, (or rather, the suspicion of that), as most feminists would claim? Far from it. What looks like ribaldry is a sublime example of governance, in the truest sense of the word. Let us acknowledge that in the era of Ram, Sita was an Empress. By virtue of being the first lady, she held a constitutional post. Whereas a ruler was prone to ruling the state according to his whims (even when the civilization has come a long way, we still witness the same in various degrees), Ram had empowered the citizens to the highest degree possible. Ram the ruler is not the king who rules. He is the king who serves. Thus we see a welfare state that is unparalleled in terms of accountability. His personal life is not different from his professional one. This is a norm that he always complies to, and accepts personal remarks from his subjects. What more, he expects all holders of constitutional posts to be upright and honest in conduct, not just in dealing with the public, but also in their own personal lives. So much so that every-yes, every-citizen low or high can approach the king directly. What more, even if one – yes, one, citizen claims or suspects a bureaucrat of any conduct not befitting that of the held post, the punishment was served. Thus the ‗guilty unless proven otherwise‘ rule was applicable for the king and his beloved too, not just the officers. We must remember after this Ram is perpetually seen in distress. He is a loner who lives the life of a hermit even in his palace,
sleeps on the floor, and eats frugal food- just like his wife who is in the jungle. ―People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people.‖ V (in V For Vendetta, Popular Hollywood movie) The instance shown thus in Ramcharitmanas is an unparalleled example of empowerment at the grassroots level of raajneeti (the art of running the state, loosely politics in modern day), where we not only see that even the loweliest of the lowly can question the credibility of the highest in the government sector, but also that all holders of constitutional posts are expected to be so upright in their conduct that even a ‗suspicion‘ from any citizen was good enough to serve them the sentence unless proven otherwise (for which a trial later happens). Two things are worth mentioning here. One, the administrator‘s personal and professional life ceased to be separate in the era of Ram, and everyone in the government was expected to have a character which was so flawless that not one citizen, low or high, had any questions about it. Two, ‗the guilty unless proven‘ was not applicable on citizens, who had a right to approach the king directly, at all times during all circumstances. Ram doesn‘t love his wife less when he sends her to exile. Nor does he suspect the ‗purity‘ of his beloved Sita. What we witness is that he is bound by duty, and the duty is makes him serve his subjects with total devotion, without grudges even when his loss is irreparable. In fact, Ram does a lot that shows his divine love for Sita, after she is exiled to the forest. The king remains in his capital not as a king, but as a sage who must dispose his duty in utmost good faith. After all, not for nothing is his life considered the best that a person can have! Everyone has a right to opinion. Objective discussions are highly welcomed. But if opinions are inscribed in granite and are not dynamic, I recommend that they remain in the personal space only. Lavkesh Singh [Branwyn Column name – Mr. Incandescent] is an Investment Banker who works in the Realm of Mergers and Acquisitions for his living. He at present resides New in Delhi.
THE BUBBLY: BARKHA PARIKH
Barkha Parikh is an I.T. engineer and also a Computer teacher from Ahmedabad, Gujarat. She is an avid reader and can hog books just like cup cakes. She can read any genre at any time. She writes for a Cause and Not for an Applause and the cause is - ‗ To touch many hearts and Enlighten many souls.‖ She pens down whatever her heart feels. She believes in ‗Live in Present because Present means a Gift‘. She is a bubbly, Full-of-Life girl but at the same time too emotional. She loves spreading smiles. Her only mantra in life is – ―I romance words, I write.‖ There had been a time when she had no one to listen to her and she got confined to a shell. But today she has more than 16000 readers on her blog who listen to what her heart says. It‘s all only because her Mentor found her undying talent of writing and encouraged her to write. She is a Cold-Coffee addict and to know her more visit her blog – U, Me n Coffeetalks (http://coffeetalkwithbarkha.blogspot.in/). She got her talent recognized firstly by the First Step Publishing Company by Mr. Rohit Shetty. She made her debut with a book – ―Minds @ Work 2‖ which is an anthology of poems. She has her 5 poems published in it. She has a heart-touching poem dedicated to Mumbai rape victim and one another poem where she expresses her gratitude to her mentor leaves one speechless. The way she has described chocolate in her poem, anyone would love falling in chocolate rather than love. That‘s about her…
A Million Universes : NitinSingh The Endless Wait The settings of the pentagonal drawing room were simplistic as in any middle class Indian family. The room was not cubical as it was the most appropriate shape to save maximum space within a minimum area, just near the entrance of the house. A separate toilet and a bathroom were neatly stacked up along the side wall of the house, in front of the room. A spacious lobby besotted the other side of the room which had enough of a space to house a car and a two-wheeler. The room did not maintain any tapestry except scenery of Golden Temple on a side-wall just below a night lamp covered with a pink umbrella. The walls were painted in light crimson that glowed soberly in silvery tube light. A sofa-set, a small rectangular centre table with two isolated chairs constituted the furniture. Nothing was more remarkable about the room except a showcase on the wall just above the sofa, which housed a galaxy of mementoes of all shapes and sizes carrying plaques that read: 'Presented by Red Cross', 'Award of Honour by Punjab Warehousing Corporation', 'Guest of Honour by Punjab Police' etc.
held high. We aren't beggars or
―Will be at your home in half-an hour‖,
criminals that we need to worry. I am
came the reply.
capable of getting many matches. So, just smile, Ok!‖
Mr.
Malhotra,
a
retired
State
Government Officer was the owner of a
The words 'beggars' and 'criminals'
God-gifted pleasing persona. Dark-
etched a scene of a recent but hoary
complexioned but stood tall, slim and
past
was
upright in his well stitched safari suit,
subjected after their elder 'bahu' ran
he looked quite unlike a retired person.
away from their home to her parents'
It was the result of his doggish efforts
house and the entire family was left
that the Gilhotras had agreed to visit
speechless.
The
their home to consider the marriage of
merciless
tirade
to
which
their
bahu
family
launched a them,
their daughter Akansha with Ayush.
slandering their family as greedy
The marital discord of the elder son had
dowry-seekers and criminals before the
led to a series of miseries for the
Panchayat that was called to resolve it.
Malhotra
The Panchayat having lost its relevance
literally ostracized from the sphere of
in the modern day city life was
matrimony. There bête moirés targeted
relegated to the background when the
their vulnerability to their advantage by
bahu's brother took the matter to the
pointing out that their first 'bahu' had
Women Cell in Police. The policemen
run away from their home. Getting a
came in jeep armed with arrest warrants
matrimonial against such a family
under section 498 of the Criminal
history was like sailing against the
Procedure Code. But, thanks to a
wind but Mr. Malhotra's perseverance
The room was going to be a stage of
packet of a latest 500 Rs denomination,
had borne some fruits finally.
some hectic activity as if a sick person
currency notes that her family could
was energized into immediate action
evade arrest and apply for bail. The
after a long period of recuperation. A
mother could still visualize folding her
lady
off-yellow
hands before the finger-raising bahu
salwar-suit was entering and exiting the
and her relatives but the bahu didn't
room, meticulously checking that all
budge and vowed not to return.
in
hennaed
hair,
arrangements were in place.
against
―Mummy Ji! Again lost somewhere?‖,
family.
They
had
been
The horn of a car broke the silence of the
narrow
street
in
which
the
Malhotras lived. The Gilhotras had arrived at their door. ―Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Gilhotra‖, greeted
Mr.
Malhotra
and
Mrs.
Malhotra.
―Mummy ji. You are looking worried.
Ayush came from behind pressing the
Cheer up!‖.
shoulders of his mother.
The voice of her younger son Ayush
Hiding her thoughts she replied,‖ Go
dressed in white glowing full sleeves
and see whether the cold drinks have
―Please come inside‖ Mr. Malhotra led
shirt, red tie and a formal dark brown
been placed in the refrigerator for
them to their pentagonal drawing room.
trousers; interrupted her.
cooling‖.
―Beta, today is The Day. It‘s after a lot
It was around 11:00 in the day and Mr.
honour! Have any of these been bagged
of persuasion that the Gilhotras have
Malhotra, Ayush's father was engaged
by Ayush?‖ asked Mr. Gilhotra on
agreed to visit our home‖.
on phone,‖ Gilhotra Sahab! Where
seeing the showcase packed with
have you reached?‖.
mementoes.
―Oh Mummy Ji! Forget about the past and live in the present with your head
―Namaskar-Namaskar‖,
replied
the
Gilhotra Couple.
―Marvellous! So many awards of
―Some three or four of them. This one
―Namaste Uncle! Namaste Aunty!‖
The Gilhotras were little bit reluctant
for standing first in his intermediate
wished Ayush as he entered the room.
on this offer but the superb hospitality
level. That one for winning the essay
He touched the feet of the Gilhotra
of the Malhotras hardly left them with
competition.‖
Couple and sat beside them.
the option to deny so they all had good
The three of them sat down and Mrs.
A tall, dark slim figure in a formal
Malhotra moved towards the kitchen.
wear, he had an aura of an energetic
―Gilhotra Sahab thanks for sparing some time to visit our home.‖ said Mr.
―My son is one among the jewels and
praised profusely.
youth-hood in him. A smile appeared
One of the most difficult days had
on Mrs. Gilhotra'a face as she saw him.
ended on a happy note for Mrs.
―Come beta, how are you and your
Malhotra.
home-made lunch which the guests
Malhotra. She had prayed a lot for its successful conclusion. She had no
business?‖ asked Mr. Gilhotra.
doubt that their guests have been
he has proved it. He was drawing a
―I am fine uncle. By the grace of god, I
impressed with them. But the fear of
handsome salary in HDFC Bank but he
am doing well in my business‖.
The Secret kept on cropping up in her
resigned from there to start his own
mind, disturbing her every now and
―Means you are enjoying it?‖
business and within a short span of an
then.
year, he has got his business up and
―Yes uncle. I could never guess that it
running‖, he continued.
would be so satisfying and rewarding
―What is his business?‖, asked Mr.
when I launched it.‖
―I will tell them the truth, if they call us to visit them‖, said Mr. Malhotra to his wife. While she on her part, dropped
Gilhotra as Mrs. Malhotra is serving
Confidence permeated every word of
her head in despair. The happiness
cold drink and snacks to them.
Ayush. Mrs. Gilhotra was taken over
which she had for the younger son felt
by his personality. She had started to
being evaporated by the heat of the
imagine how her daughter would look
turmoil which her elder son was facing
standing beside him.
in his life. But, since the prospects of
―Wholesale and retail of cosmetic products‖, replied Mr. Malhotra. ―Our shop is in the main Market of the town.‖
'The couple will
look made for each other', she thought. ―This is Akansha‖, Mrs. Gilhotra said
―Where is the elder bahu? She is not
while taking out a photograph from an
visible?‖ queried Mrs. Gilhotra.
envelope kept in her handbag.
quick resolution of the discord seemed distant, the family had decided to explore the marital prospects of the younger son for the latter could not be expected to wait indefinitely and suffer,
―She has gone to her parents in
Ayush's pupil grew in size as his
Jalandhar‖, replied Mrs. Malhotra.
mother looked at the photograph.
for no fault of his own. The Gilhotras got late as they drove
―Oh! Expecting some good news??‖
―Beautiful,
―No.. hope so...let‘s see‖ Mrs. Malhotra answered sheepishly. ―The elder son's posting is local only?‖ asked Mr. Gilhotra
isn't
she?‖
said
Mrs.
back to their home town. Tired after a
Malhotra while handing over the
busy day, they took only a light dinner
photograph to her husband.
of 'tehri' and went to the bed early to
Ayush wore a neutral look with a short smile as he was allowed to glance over
―What is your take on the boy, isn't he
the photograph. He tried to capture as
smart and talented‖, asked the wife.
―Yes, but he has gone on departmental
many details of the girl as he could,
training
during the little period he was given the
to
Delhi‖,
replied
Mr.
Malhotra.
photograph.
The Malhotras knew that if they had
As they finished the tea Mr. Gilhotra
out rightly told the truth about their
asked for a photograph of Ayush so
elder son's family life to them then they
that they could carry it to show to their
would have never talked to them forget
family. Mr. Malhotra obliged them
about
with it.
coming
to
them.
So,
the
Malhotras decided to maintain secrecy about the matter for the time being. In about half-an hour, tea was served with dry fruits, sweets and aloo bhujia.
sleep.
―Ok! Mr. Malhotra now we have to leave. We will talk to you soon‖, said Mr. Gilhotra. ―No sir, its lunch time and the lunch is also ready. Let‘s have lunch first‖
―That he is, but he is still new in his business and I am not sure about his income‖, replied the husband. ―What do you think, he won‘t be earning
enough
to
sustain
our
Akansha?‖, she asked in a tense mood. ―Well! You know dear, in what luxury and comforts we have raised our daughter.‖, he said. ―But we also have to see this that if we will keep on rejecting such good matches on some or the other pretexts
then we may have to compromise even
horn in front of an identified house, the
photograph she had already seen. But
more in the future. Already we have
hosts opened the door and came out of
Ayush had already stolen a look of her
been searching for a suitable boy for
their house in warm anticipation of
twice. 'Oh God! She looks like a
the last year and a half‖, she rued.
their welcome guests.
distorted
―So what do you say?‖
―Namaskar ji‖, said the Malhotra
―I think we should say 'yes' to the Malhotras, as soon as possible. Who
husband and wife as they opened the door of the car.
version
of
her
own
photograph which her parents showed to me and I was day-dreaming about her. I cannot call her the girl of my dreams. Why these parents carry the
knows that they may also be seeing
―Namaskar – Namaskar‖, the greetings
edited photographs of their daughter?
other girls? If this match also goes out
were exchanged by the Gilhotras.
What will they get in showing the
of hand then all our efforts will be wasted.‖
Ayush and his elder brother touched the feet of the Gilhotra couple. The visitors
―Ok! Dear, I will call them tomorrow.
were hurried inside the house by Mr.
Good night!‖
Gilhotra. The maid served cold drink
―Good night.‖
and snacks after the guests sat in the drawing room. About half-an hour
―Hello! Mr. Malhotra, Gilhotra here.
glorified photographs of their daughters when the truth would be discovered sooner or later? I just don‘t understand', Ayush lamented to himself without showing his displeasure in seeing Akansha.
later, they were served with tea and
The Malhotra couple was also not
sweets.
much enthused on seeing Akansha but
We are very pleased about your son's
―Meet Chintu, my younger child‖, Mr.
proposal. We invite you to visit our
Gilhotra said as an adolescent of 15-16
home on any suitable day so that we
years entered the room in a red T-shirt,
can move ahead.‖
sky-blue jeans and Nike shoes.
they were masters in hiding their expressions. They continued to smile as if the 'bride of their dream' was sitting beside them as moreover, the looks of the bride was not their prime concern.
―Thank you sir, how about the coming
―How are you Little master? How
Sunday on 15th.‖
much has India scored today?‖,asked
―Oh! That would be wonderful.‖ ―Ok then Gilhotra Sahab we shall be your guest on the coming Sunday‖
Mr. Malhotra
It was the news that the Malhotras longed for. The entire family was
interest in home management‖, asked Mr. Malhotra.
―Fine, Uncle. Not many, the Protease have restricted them to just 202‖,
gardening, floriculture etc‖.
―Hmmm. Odds are heavily against India‖, confessed Mr. Malhotra.
indicated to his wife while they were
hearted smile, while slightly dropping
sipping tea.
his head.
She went out across a verandah to
―Malhotra sahab, Yesterday I had
another room. There Akansha was
consulted our panditji
sitting dressed up in a 'churidar' suit
match. He told me that 24 gunas are
The four sat down in their car on
with a light make up. She was a slim
matching and it is a good match‖, said
Sunday at 7:00 in the morning. Ayush
girl of nearly 5 feet 3 inch with
Mr. Gilhotra.
had dressed in a light silvery suit and
wheatish complexion. Her hairs were
looked like a groom except the turban
non-silky, with hard strands that were
and the sword. His elder brother was
shorter in length.
driving the car as Ayush sat on the
marks of worn out pimples unlike the
front seat while, Mr. and Mrs. Malhotra
glowing face of Ayush. Mrs. Gilhotra
sat on the rear seat. They reached
ferried her daughter into the drawing
Urban Estate, Phase II Patiala at around
room.
without any difficulty‖, Mr. Malhotra told his wife.
Mr.
a house-wife to a working wife.‖, said Mr. Malhotra as Ayush gave a half-
clinch the match and sail through
Akansha‖,
―That‘s remarkable! Ayush also prefers
Gilhotra
rejoiced at it. ―By God's grace, we will
―Bring
―I like to do every house-hold activity – cooking, knitting, interior decoration,
replied Chintu in despair. ―My pleasure sir, my pleasure.‖
―Beta, which is your area of utmost
The face had dull
written very clearly on the front of each house. As the elder brother blew the
―Thats a positive sign sir, I think now without wasting any time we should allow these two to know each other.‖ ―Ofcourse sir‖, agreed Mr. Gilhotra. Ayush and Akansha were taken into a small room across the verandah which
11:00 AM. The house was not difficult to trace as the house numbers were
for the guna
Akansha greeted Mrs and Mr. Malhotra
was adjacent to the room in which
and sat on a chair beside her mother.
Akansha had dressed up. They sat on
She did not look at Ayush whose
chairs placed across a table. While
Akansha looked to be placid but a tussle was going on in Ayush's mind.' How can I accept her? She doesn't fit
―What about you?‖
―Yes honey! Like him?‖, asked Mrs.
―I am 100% vegetarian at home and among friends‖
―As you shall say Mumma‖, Akansha
my criteria? How will I love her? Her parents ditched me by showing a modified photograph. So what if we are not getting matches because of 'Bhai's' situation'? We will overcome it and then I will be flooded with proposals.
Gilhotra.
replied with a mark of astute shyness
Ayush smiled back.
on her face.
They came out of the room. Ayush went to his father and sat beside him. Akansha went to her mother and sat
The Gilhotra couple walked to the drawing room. ―So, Malhotra Sahab, What's your
beside her.
But if I didn't get any match then I will
decision?‖, asked Mr. Gilhotra with a
lose even this. Why should I let this girl
―Malhotra sahab!. If you wish you can
know about my real feelings? I should
take the feedback from your son in this
behave with her normally.' They sat
room itself while, we shall move to
―We are at your disposal sir.‖, replied
silently for the first two minutes,
another room with our daughter for her
Mr. Malhora with a bigger smile.
Akansha with her head down and
comments‖, said Mr. Gilhotra.
Ayush looking at the front wall of the
―Ok right, Gilhotra sahab‖.
then?‖
The Gilhotra family went out of the
―Oh sure. Good things should not be
room leaving the Malhotra family to
delayed.‖
smile.
―Shall we do a small 'roka' ceremony
room. ―Hi!‖ said Ayush, as he tried to break the ice after much inner resistance.
discuss the situation among themselves.
―Hi!‖ came the reply in an instance. ―So you did your graduation from DAV Women's College?‖
It was a moment marked by the most
―Yes Ayush, OK?‖, queried Mrs.
elusive happiness for both the families.
Malhotra.
There were certain eyes that had
―Ok?! No Mummy ji, she is good by
become
moist
to
celebrate
the
happiness. But the fact of his elder
―Yes‖
nature but not a girl I can love.‖
―What are your hobbies?‖
―Looks are not everything dear. You
Should I disclose it now? I will have to
have to cope up with a person and not
disclose it. It cannot be hidden. Now
merely live by looks.‖
they don‘t know it and are happy. What
son's life was disturbing Mr. Malhotra.'
―Knitting, gardening, watching movies, listening to songs, dancing.‖
―But Mummy ji, Please don‘t compel
―Oh! That's great!' ―My
favourites
me when my heart doesn't like her.‖ are
Kishore
and
if they come to know about it from any third source'? As he dared to draw himself into a serene mood and speak
understand the
up an inner voice caught up with him '
gravity of our situation. No one else is
What are you doing? You want to ruin
―Yeah! Even I like like them besides
even ready to consider us. By God's
Ayush's life? Dont you know that the
Lataji, Ashaji, and Alkaji. Now, you
grace these people have become ready.
Gilhoras will write you off once they
may ask anything from me‖, said
We should not leave this opportunity.‖
know that your elder 'bahu' has ran
―But Mummy Ji?‖
away from your home. Then everything
Mukesh—I am a big fan of them‖
Ayush. She didn't speak.
―Dear! You
must
will be gone. Why do you want to lose ―Don‘t you trust us? Can we do
this sole moment of happiness amidst
―Please be frank‖, Ayush encouraged
anything which will not be in your
months of sorrow that your family has
her.
interest?‖
seen? Gripped in his inner tussle, Mr.
―Do you drink?‖
Ayush didn't utter a word after this. He
―No hard drink but yes I take beer occasionally.‖ ―Ok! And vegetarian/non-vegetarian?‖ ―95% vegetarian but sometimes with friends I eat non-veg also.‖ She displayed her shining white teeth at this reply.
could imagine his parents living in tension over his marriage. 'Already my family has been subjected to a lot of public ignominy. I cannot take away this sole reason for happiness in the last few months', he reflected.
Malhotra looked for suggestion at his life partner. She was also un-decided. He looked at his two sons. The elder one was silent to the extent of being clueless. While the younger one was sitting with his head down, wearing a plastic smile which only the Malhotra couple could decipher. He could see a
The decision was not difficult for the
groom's turban on Ayush's forehead.
Gilhotra Family to make as there was
Mr. Malhotra had been the patriarch of
no known complexity involved.
his family. All the important decisions
carried his stamp of approval. Now he
boxes of delicious sweets. As the two
for her. As if the tall and dark frame of
had made another important decision
families departed, Mrs. Malhotra kissed
Ayush was not enough, his youthful
and it was NOT to disclose anything
the fore-head of Akansha while she
aura, well-behaved manners had cast an
about his elder son to the Gilhotras. '
touched her feet. Akansha glanced at
excellent impression on her. She started
After all, What they have to do with my
Ayush but he was looking somewhere
dreaming about him.
elder son's life. Their groom is Ayush
else.
―Didi! Did you exchange number with
who is flawless', he counseled himself. ―Anything serious?‖ interrupted Mr. Gilhotra.
Jiju?‖ interrupted Chintu when she was The Gilhotras were a socially wellnetworked family of Patiala. They had
―Nothing! Gilhotra sahab.‖
clout running across business, politics
―Arrangements have been made. Shall
and civil administration. Mr. Gilhotra believed in the superstition that if you
we perform the 'roka' ceremony?‖
disclose a thing before it materializes ―Lets do it.‖
engrossed in her thoughts, the next day. ―No-no! Why should I?‖ ―Ha-ha didi! Don‘t lie. I have traced his number in your contacts and for your kind information also carried it to my contact list.‖
then it may never happen at all. That is
Ayush and Akansha were made to sit together on chairs adjacent to each other. Akansha covered her head with her 'dupatta' while Ayush with his white handkerchief. Mrs. Gilhotra came with a steel plate decorated with red vermillion, raw rice and sweets. She applied red vermillion on the foreheads
why the Gilhotras had maintained
―You! The Mischief-Monger! Wait!. I
secrecy about the 'roka' of their
just take care of you‖, and she ran after
daughter so far. But since now the
Chintu's neck but the latter was the
match had been fixed they must
more nimble footed of the two.
celebrate it among friends and relatives. Mr. Gilhotra got the sweet distributed among the near and dear ones. The
―Huff! Huff! You just land in my grips and then I will show you the light of the day.‖
news of Akansha's 'roka' spread like fire in their locality and people started
―You enlighten me later but first check
pouring in, with their wishes.
your Facebook.‖
auspicious 'Gayatri' mantra three times
Akansha was an educated but homely
―Huh! Why?‖
which was repeated by all the other
girl. She had never wanted to be a
family
an
working woman in her life. Her
envelope containing 'shagun' on the
philosophy was against the trend when
hands of Ayush. Mr. Gilhotra stepped
almost every educated girl in the
forward and stretched a golden chain
society
around
the
managing house-hold chores. She had
―What?
Gilhotra couple blessed the new couple
formulated her views after observing
Facebook? You brute! With whose
by placing their palms on their heads.
her most caring mother through her
permission? I will not leave you‖, and
During all these moments, Chintu was
life. She had seen how her mother had
she again ran after him. This time
busy in capturing every moment in his
been the cornerstone of her family
Chintu slipped into the street as he
camera. His screams of 'Smile please',
through the thick and thin. When her
found it the safest way to avoid the
'Look here', 'Come close' were the only
father had been battered by their
clutches of her hyper-Didi.
interruptions to the smooth ceremony.
market-governed business, it was her
The similar steps were performed by
mother
Mrs. Malhotra with the only difference
patience
that she gave the shagun to Akansha.
reinvigorated with courage and moral
of the couple and then showered a few grains of rice on them. She recited the
members.
Ayush's
She
neck.
placed
Then,
preferred
who had
employment
through
her
infinite
made
his
father
therefore she always dreamed of being It was getting lunch time by then. Mr.
a home maker like her mother. The job
Gilhotra drove their guests to a nearby
of home maker however unpaid was the
restaurant where both the families had a
most rewarding in terms of emotional
sumptuous lunch. By four in the
satisfaction and family-growth.
evening, the Malhotras expressed their Gilhotra ensured that the ‗diggie‘ of their guests' car was filled with 11
viral. Your friends and our relatives are sending their congratulations and best wishes.‖
to
support. Her mother was her ideal and
wish to leave for their home. Mr.
―Your photograph with Jiju has gone
You
put
those
Pics
on
The anger brewing up in Akansha subsided as she logged into her facebook. While reading the lively wishes of her near and dear ones, she felt all the more obliged to reply them with her gratitude. These wishes had given wings to her imagination of being a life partner of Ayush. She felt elevated as the count of her pics on the Facebook increased with the passing
Every girl nurtures a dream about the
time. The virtual world had taken over
Prince of her life. So, had Akansha of a
herself and she was lost in a reverie
handsome young man who would care
enjoying the company of Ayush and
watched over by the community of her
―Yesterday night I sent a 'Hi' to Ayush
―Oh! it‘s ok beta ji, listen! Akansha
friends and relatives.
but there was no reply‖
wants to talk to you.‖
That night she went to bed early. She
―So what beta, he might have slept by
―Akansha!, here is Ayush.‖ but she ran
and the other family members had
then‖
away blushing.
―But then he should have replied in the
―Arrey beta, where are you going, here
morning‖
is Ayush on the line, talk to him‖,
eaten less as if their hunger had been satiated by the bigger happiness of Akansha's 'roka'. But going to bed early doesn't guarantees sleep so she was
―It is possible he might not have
busy checking her facebook. As the
received it‖
sleep continued to evade her, she started getting restless. Was she waiting for someone for a chat or talk? She couldn't
exactly
decipher.
―No
repeated Mr. Gilhotra. But she didn‘t return.
Mummy
ji,
I
have
the
confirmation that he has seen it‖, she argued impatiently.
―Ha-ha-ha Ayush beta, she has run away. May be she will call you later.‖ ―Ok! Uncle ji, no problem please say
Then
suddenly she opened Whats Up and
―Beta ji! What‘s the fuss in it? You are
my ‗hi‘ to her and regards for Aunty,
texted 'Hi' to Ayush. She held her
reading too much into it‖, the mother
bye‖
mobile
replied in solace. Look your Papa is
eagerly
waiting
for
its
hummocky beat signaling that a reply has been received. A minute passed, another minute passed but there was no reply. Her sleep started to play hide-nseek
with
her.
Her
restlessness
coming‖ ―Bhai,
What‘s
the
matter?
What
―Yes! But he said that Hola-Ashtak is
Akansha hugged him.
beginning from tomorrow and no
fifteen minutes has elapsed but there was no reply. 'He might have slept after
philosopher. She has started reading too
the hard day's work', she consoled
much into things.‖
herself. 'Jai Maa Vaishno Raani', she
―Why?‖, asked Mr. Gilhotra looking
started
reciting
it
indefinitely till her restlessness faded away. ―Wake
daughter
has
become
a
with a humour-filled astonishment
kumbhkarni‖,
Chintu
shouted while pulling up the blanket off
night yet‖ ―Ha ha ha Didi, its already 8:30, get up now and help me in mathematics‖ ―Hai Rabba, I slept for so late‖, she got up, pretending to check her mobile for
her head down.
days‖, replied Mrs. Gilhotra. ―Ohkk! So let‘s wait, till then, after it we will hurry up the matter and finalize the date‖ ―Hmmm‖, she replied happily.
A week passed by, the Gross Happiness
The mother conveyed the matter to the
of both the families increased. The
father.
Gilhotras spilled over their happiness
―Oh dear!, Don‘t worry. Let‘s call Ayush, ok?‖' said the father with a generous smile.
into their social circle while the Malhotras were more cautious in preserving their new found, hither to illusive happiness.
―Hello! beta ji, how are you?‖, said Mr. Gilhotra as he rang Ayush.
time but she found that there was no reply. She gave a pat to Chintu and got
―Hello! Namaste Uncle ji, I am fine‖,
engaged in her daily routine.
came the voice from the other side.
Later in the day she was helping her
―Namaste beta ji, bhai, you didn't
mother in cooking lunch.
remember us at all‖
―Mummy ji, I want to tell you
―No-No Uncle! I was actually too busy.
something, I don‘t know whether its
I am sorry for it. I am heading for a
important‖
business-cum-educational trip for a
―Ha! Beta, tell me‖
done with anyone for the next eight
―Nothing papa‖, Akansha replied with
Akansha. ―Ummm... Chintu..let me sleep.. its
auspicious talk or discussion should be
transforming the wrinkles of his face into a maze.
up
Shubh Mahurat?‖, asked Mr. Gilhotra
daughter duo?‖, asked Mr. Gilhotra as
―Your
and
―Did you go to the panditji for the
khichdi is being cooked by the mother-
magnified in intensity. More than
murmured
―Bye-bye beta.‖
week.‖
On the ninth day, it was Holi. Mr. Golhotra had called up his estranged cousin sister who was married to a businessman in Ludhiana. ―Namaskar! Didi, Happy Holi!.‖ ―Who? Sarvesh? Ohoo.. you finally remembered me.‖ ―Ah! come on Didi, how can I ever forget you.‖
―Acha Bhai! Happy Holi to you,
were applied the colour packs too.
―You have been bluffed Sarvesh. That
Sangeeta, Akansha and Chintu.‖
Some fast and some light as if,
is it. I know them very well. Dowry-
highlighting the different shades of life.
seekers. Women-persecutors. What else
It was evening and the Gilhotras were
should I tell you about them!‖
―Thanks Didi.‖ ―Didi, How is Jija Ji?‖ ―He is fine. He has gone with his friends of Byapar Mandal to celebrate Holi.‖ ―Acha Didi, I wanted to give you a good news.‖ ―Oye-hoye! Fixed the marriage of Akansha?‖ ―Yes! You have guessed it right. But just to add to your element of surprise, it has been fixed with a family of Ludhiana.‖ ―What? You came here to fix the marriage and left without seeing me.‖ ―Didi, I am sorry. Actually we got late and thereafter hurried to reach home the same day.‖ ―Chalo! But your Jija Ji will not
having tea in their common room as the melodious songs in Kishores' voice entertained them. Mr. Gilhotra's mobile rang rather loudly.
his
consciousness. He didn't know when
weight. The pressure on his mind was
―Oh! Namaste Jija ji. Hapy Holi to you.I had already greeted Didi in the morning.‖
just too much for his leg-muscles to bear. ―Gilhotra Sahab!. Control yourself.
―Namaste, Yeah your Didi told me about it.‖ ―So, which is the family where you have fixed up the match?‖ ―With the Malhotras of the Khatri Colony, Ludhiana. You know them? We found them to be very amicable.‖
Akansha! Bring some water‖, cried Mrs. Gilhotra. ―Papa! Papa!!‖, cried Akansha and Chintu. He was placed on the bed. Akansha sprinkled some water on his face as Mrs. Gilhotra rubbed his feet. He regained consciousness crying ―Liars!
―Acha …. those who have started a new business in Cosmetics?‖
Liars!‖. ―Who?‖, asked Mrs. Gilhotra.
meet.‖
elder one is married to family in
Jija ji may beknowing them.‖
started losing
from the other side.
―They are having two sons and the
―I dont seem to know them but your
He
started to crumble under his own
―Didi, I will win over him, when we
Colony, Ludhiana.‖
shrink.
―Hello!. Sarvesh?‖, shrilled the person
―Yeah-yeah they are those only.‖
―It is the Malhotras of the Khatri
to
the mobile slipped out of his hand. He
appreciate this fact.‖
―Acha!. Which is the family here?‖
The ground beneath Mr. Gilhotra began
―The Malhotras. They have bluffed us.‖
Jalandhar‖, Jija ji confirmed.
―What?‖ ―Yes! Their elder bahu had fled away some three months back. They are bad
―Yes exactly.‖
people. Dowry seekers. Jija ji said he ―Who
was
the
middle-man
who
arranged the match?‖
was confirmed about it.‖ ―What? God!! How can they tell such a
―None. We did it from the Tribune
big lie? Worms will infest them.
Matrimonials.‖
Sinners.‖
Namaste!‖
―Oh! Sarvesh.. What have you done?‖
As it unfolded, Akansha the most
―Namaste Bhai.‖
―Why Jija ji? What's wrong in it?‖
―Ok Didi, Pay my regards to Jija ji,
affected person was left clueless. ‗How can it happen to me? He looked so
―Do you know about their elder son?‖ As Mr. Gilhotra put the mobile down,
―What?
he got a call from Mr. Malhotra who
Government
gave the Holi greetings to the entire
married.‖
family. Then there were some near and dear ones who visited their home to play colours. Akansha's 'roka' had made this holi special for them. Mrs. Gilhotra
He
is Job
employed and
is
in
frank and straight-forward. No-no he a
happily
can't lie to me. My Uncle at Ludhaina is jealous of us. He doesn't like our happiness. That's why he is spreading false rumours about Ayush's family',
―Non-sense.
Happily
Married?
she thought.
Bluffmasters. His wife has run away some three months back.‖
The rising sun that promised colour and joy was being relegated by the setting
served delicious gujjiyas with ginger
―What? Impossible! They cannot lie.
sun that had befallen a spell of gloom
tea to all the guests. Colours of
They are so clear hearted.‖
for the family. Happiness had been
different shades were scattered all
engulfed in sorrow. The Gilhotras
around. Some wet, some dry. The faces
struggled with the sleep the whole
night. Akansha was the most restless,
He dialed the number of Mr. Gilhotra,
the family‘s well-being. Mr. Malhotra
praying that the news given by the
the ring went on but there was no
went to the shop with dragging feet,
Uncle at Ludhaina might turn out to be
response. He redialed and again there
Ayush noticed the disappointment on
false. 'Hey Vasihno Raani! Protect us.
was no response.
his father‘s face.
―Must be busy somewhere‖, said Mr.
―What happened Papa Ji? Everything
Malhotra.
Ok?‖
―Yeah! They will call back‖, added
―Hope so….‖, Mr. Malhotra told the
Mrs. Malhotra.
entire episode to him.
They finished the lunch and went to the
―Oh come on Papa. You fear a lot. Just
terrace to bask in the retreating sun-
believe in God.‖
Help us. Return us our happiness', she was constantly praying. 'What if the elder brother's wife has run away. Ayush
is
blemish-less
and
so
promising. But why didn't he disclose? Are they bad people? If they are people with true conscience, why did they hide? ' she ruminated. Next morning on the dining table: ―Shall we simply believe what Jija Ji told?‖ asked Mrs. Gilhotra doubtfully. ―Why? He seemed to be confirmed‖, emphasized Mr. Gilhotra. ―What if we cross-verify it, Papa‖, suggested Akansha.
light. An hour and a half passed by but there was no reply. As the time passed by the tension started to build up. This tension didn‘t emanate from something unknown but from a known fear. ―Have they come to know about it?‖, asked Mr. Malhotra in a pensive mood. ―Don‘t think like this. They will not. anything
to my reporter-friend in Ludhiana. He
Malhotra.
evening.‖ ―Papa Ji! Whatever, but Ayush is blemish less na‖, Akansha asked in a
wrong‖,
replied
―It‘s been more than two hours and they haven‘t responded‖, said Mr. Malhotra impatiently. ―Why don‘t you call them again?‖ ―Ok!‖
indissoluble bond. We cannot take risk
He took out his mobile and once again
in it.‖, replied Mr. Gilhotra.
dialed Mr. Gilhotra. This time the latter
―You don‘t worry and stop thinking
picked up.
over it. We will sort it out‖, consoled
―Namaskar! Gilhotra Sahab‖, greeted
Mrs. Gilhotra.
Mr. Malhotra with the enthusiasm and
The break-fast was only notional. No
force that could put life in a dead person.
one except Chintu had the appetite to eat anything.
―Namaskar!‖, replied Mr. Gilhotra in a morose tone. ―Everything ok?‖
The Malhotras had even started to prepare for the marriage. Mrs. Malhotra
―Fine ji….‖, replied Mr. Gilhotra after
had just been to their Panditji who had
a pause. ―I am very busy, will get back
informed her the probable dated as 25th
to you soon‖, said Mr. Gilhotra and
March, 14th April or 20th May. She was
hung up.
serving lunch to her husband in the afternoon.
Oh God! For how long we will have to suffer this‖, cried Mr. Malhotra. ―Papa Ji, control yourself. If she has subjected us to misery then even she cannot be happy. God will punish her severely‖, consoled Ayush.
Mrs.
pleading tone. ―Beta ji, marriage is not a game. It is an
she has left, out life has become hell.
God will help us. We haven‘t done
―I have already forwarded their details
has promised me a report by tomorrow
―Only if… she hadn‘t run away? Since
Mr. Malhotra didn‘t have the time to
The reporter friend of Mr. Gilhotra called in the evening. He affirmed the facts revealed by Jija Ji. Mr. Malhotra immediately called up his Jija ji and stated his plan to visit Ludhiana the coming day. Mr. Gilhotra got off early for Ludhiana the next morning. He directed the driver towards Jija Ji‘s house at Civil Lines. ―What do you want to do now?‖, asked Jija Ji. ―What else? Break-up. We cannot trust them.‖, replied Mr. Gilhotra. ―Let‘s go to their home‖, suggested Jija Ji. ―No, I shall wait at your home. You please take one or two of your friends and dispose it off.‖ ―Ok! Sarvesh you stay back. I will do the rest. God has saved you timely.‖ Mr. Gilhotra nodded as Jija Ji started to exit.
say the parting ‗Ok‘. His heart began to
―And yes! We had given a golden chain
―Shall we inform them about the
pound. He could sense that something
to their damn son. Get it back too.‖
probable dates?‖, asked Mrs. Malhotra.
had gone wrong. Mrs. Malhotra went to
―Sure just now‖, replied Mr. Malhotra.
the Puja Room and started praying for
―Sure!‖, replied Jija Ji with conviction.
The pentagonal room was once again
assure you that it will be resolved soon.
moon that shone brilliantly in the night
the centre stage of activity but this time
We will give all the happiness in this
sky beyond the window of the room.
for adverse reasons. The Malhotra
world to Akansha, after the marriage. I
She moved towards the window and
couple was trying to pacify the charged
guarantee!‖, begged Mr. Malhotra.
stood leaning against it. He gaze was
up Jija Ji who was accompanied by a couple of his friends from the Byapar Mandal.
―Malhotra Ji, listen! We are sorry for the state of affairs in your family. But the matter ends here for us. Please
―Malhotra Ji! What have you done is
return the golden chain presented to
really wrong‖, fumed Jija ji.
your son during the roka ceremony‖,
―Sir you have been misled and we have been
misunderstood.‖,
replied
Mr.
Malhotra.
replied the Jija Ji tersely.
fixated on the moon which seemed to be getting far and far away from her with every passing hour. Her eyes watered under the pressure of the gaze but she didn‘t wink. She was ready to wait endlessly.
The pentagonal room witnessed it all. A relation whose seeds had been sown
―What? Is it not true that your elder bahu has run away?‖, charged Jija Ji while thumping his fist on the centertable.
just a mere ten days earlier had failed to germinate.
The two
families
had
entered into a relation amidst the chants of the Gayatri Mantra. Now one of them was breaking it at the deliberate
―These are mere rumours. It is true that
folly of the other.
there is some domestic problem but it is very much resolvable.‖, clarified Mr. Malhotra while amazing coolness. ―Ok! Wasn‘t it your duty to share it with Mr. Gilhotra? Why did you hide it?‖, asked one of the friends of Jija Ji.
Ayush returned home later in the evening. He had come to know everything
when
his
father
had
telephoned him to untie the golden chain around his neck and send it
―Bhai Sahab, our relation had just
home. But, there was a sense of relief
begun and we were soon going to share
in his mind. He did not like Akansha.
the matter with the Gilhotra family.
She was a compulsion for him rather
Further, my younger son is blemish-
than a heart-made choice. He consoled
less and has nothing to do with the
his parents by telling ―We deserve
marital discord of my elder son‖,
better. Don‘t worry.‖ It was amazing
replied Mr. Malhotra convincingly.
that his youthful courage could digest a
―No-no, it is enough!. Mr. Gilhotra has asked for break-up. That why we are
happening so easily which his parents could not even think putting behind them.
here‖, said Jija Ji emphatically. ―Bhai Sahab, please reconsider your decision. This break up will hurt both
Akansha
the
social
remorseful. ‘If it had to break then why
implication. I beg you not to act in
did it happen? How will I explain it to
haste‖, entreated Mr. Malhotra.
my friends? Why do parents fix it up in
families.
Imagine
its
―Malhotra Ji! We have considered everything and a final decision has been made from our side‖, revealed Jija Ji.
on the
other
side
was
hurry and then also break it up in hurry‘ her thoughts nagged her. ‗Now, another proposal and another wait! How many more matches? Only Mata Raani knows. Wasn‘t it better in earlier times
―Sir, please think. Try to put yourself at
when daughters were married off
my position. How is it my fault that my
without their consent? At least they
elder bahu is not cooperating at the
skipped seeing a new match everytime
moment? This is simply a matter of fate
and facing a new interview everytime.‘
and can happen with anyone. But I
she thought sighting the three-quarter
Nitin Singh is an introvert who loves to scribble down the fictionalized versions of reality. His freestyle write-up deals with the day-to-day adventures of middle class people. Nitin is a resident of Ferozepur.
THE VERY CHARMING: RITIK BABBAR
"I started my career from travel and tourism industry but later decided to turn into a writer.‖ Riitik Babbar, a 27 year old guy from the city of Delhi thought of chasing his dream and today he has hit the globe with his debut novel named UNSATISFIED SATISFAACTIONNS. Let‘s see what the writer has to say.. ―I have been working for an ITES KPO in MR industry since last 3 years. My maiden novel is about my own life with a touch of fiction in it. The plot of novel seems to be very interesting and I have faith that this story will be loved by the readers. The only thing I would say about my novel is ‗‘It is an extraordinary story of ordinary lovers‘‘. ―Besides writing, I like to learn about various cultures and traditions that exist on earth. Not just that I am a soccer freak. The one message that I would like to convey to the novel readers is, ―I set goals and try hard to achieve it. The thought that someday I will achieve my aim, keeps me going. The last thing I would like to tell you all is -stay healthy, wear your smile daily and be true to your work.‘‘
Sacrament Sobriety : Gaurav Gill “Be the lamp that you seek” Those corridors of freedom, scribbled benches, shrieking sentinels, beckoning assembly lines, verdant and luring play grounds, buried notes, fuming principal, does it remind you of some place. Yeah am catapulting your senses to school days. It was the advent of spring which led to a hasty call that sprang from my formidable Irish principal‘s room. As I traversed through the corridors with labored breathing, I racked my brains to recall if I had flouted any norms recently. My memory seemed to give up on me, and all I could think was of flogging which my classmate was bestowed with; that morning. ―Shall I come in sir?‖ quivered my lips. ―You are already in gentleman‖ he said staring at me with his keen eyes. I tried to leash my inexorable reflexes. Then he divulged the reason for my presence. I was supposed to volunteer to write exams for students, I was still in a dilemma. It was then he dispelled the cobwebs in my head.‖ They cannot see; they are visually challenged; differently abled‖. The feeling was ambivalent, I rejoiced at the idea of helping someone however at the same time I had never done something similar in my life. I vividly remember it was March, 1999 when I was to take board exams (10th std). The day had come; the sun shone in its splendor. I entered the iron gates of Andh Mahavidhyalaya Blind School, New Delhi. I felt like a novice; was completely rudderless. I was clinging onto a strip of paper that had the student‘s name inscribed on it. He was from 8th standard and the exam was of Hindi subject. There was a coordinator who walked me through with the process. I was introduced to this cheerful looking young lad standing in a corner, dressed in ironed white shirt and shorts. His hair neatly parted and an expectant smile which elicited mine. He extended his hand towards me and I quickly clutched it into mine. His touch transcended warmth and I could feel galvanized. He became my escort and we reached our destination; the classroom. So the instructions were imparted, we had two hours of time to complete the paper. The paper had essays to be written on topics like ―should dowry be encouraged in India or not‖, ―Environment Conservation‖. The norms stated that my friend would narrate the answer to me and I would be his extended tactile fingers. I thought of tweaking the norms a bit, I took my friend into confidence and requested him to do a lip-sync like actors in the movies. I would pen my own thoughts at a rapid pace and assured him that he would sail through
the paper with flying colors and he gave his consent in the form of a sheepish smile. There it was, the paper got over in 40 minutes and we still had 80 minutes with us. I swirled around and found that there were other students who were sitting with a despondent look. When I enquired the invigilator about them; I was told that their writers never turned up. It was then that I asked the invigilator if I could write for few of them as we still had some time left. To which he instantly agreed, my joy knew no bounds. So within the period of 2 hours I managed to ink exams for three of my friends. There was this feeling of gratification, was in a state of euphoria for all day. Then somebody called me from behind ― Bhaiyya, please don‘t leave and wait for us downstairs‖. I could see all three of them discussing in subdued tones. They held onto each other‘s fingers, with measured steps they walked slowly in my direction. They rummaged their half stitched pockets and fished out 15 Rs. And they said in a chorus ―Bhaiyya, we keep waiting for our writers every year, though we are assigned one. However we fail to see them most of the times. You wrote exams for us; which had been impending for quite some time. Consider this 15 Rs as a token of thanks from us; cause this is all we have. You know bhaiyya there is this samose wala round the corner, you can buy them with this money‖ I was dumbfounded; my stuttering speech had been replaced by my moist eyes. I thanked them for their munificent gesture and beseeched them to remember me in their prayers. Cherish the vision that God has bestowed you with. It‘s been 15 years now, as I recall that moment from my memory lane, it has left an indelible mark on my life. And as I narrate it, my eyes are still moist…………
Mr. Gaurav Gill is a person of quintessential contemplation known for his kind and modest nature. He is a lecturer and lives in New Delhi.
THE BY CHANCE WRITER: MOEEDUL HUSSAIN
Moeedul Hussain, who happened to be a happy-go-luck guy since his childhood, was never into the literary world! More than reading or writing, he was leaned towards painting. Born and brought up in Dhubri (Assam), a small town beside the mighty Brahmaputra, his parents send him to Bangalore to complete his engineering in Electronics & Communication. It was during his engineering days; the last bench gossips and PJs that finally made his entry into the amazing world of writing. And finally, by the end his engineering, the guy who hasn‘t read a single novel (till now) came up with his debut novel ―To Be Continued…‖
Unlike other teenage tales that deals primarily with love and other similar topics, ‗To Be Continued…‘ deals with the various dogmas of society and truth of Life; both sweet and bitter. It shows the different stages of a teenager‘s life; the tenderly touches of Love, emotional bonding with Family, betrayal in Friendship and the endless fun of Teenage. ―Life never stops! It would always drag you to tomorrow at its own wish. You can never command Life according to your own will…Life, to be continued…!‖ is what the novel ushers to its readers.
Down Memory Lane : Koushik Gangopadhyay The Golden Moments 06 Oct 1987. The Madras Mail had just been positioned into Howrah station for its onward journey towards Madras. In those days Madras hadn‘t been rechristened to Chennai. Amid the hustle and bustle of the passengers, the porters, the vendors, there was a group of young men who were waiting to board the train. As the railway staff opened the gate of the Military compartment, these young men or boys barely out of their teens started boarding it. The Railway staff intervened and asked the boys to detrain as the compartment was meant for Defence personnel and not civilians. One of the boys whisked out a piece of paper from his pocket and instantly the Railway staff made way for them. It was very much evident from the facial expressions of the boys that some were quite apprehensive while some anxious and some of them nervous. After they had all settled down in the compartment, the boy who had shown the piece of paper to the Railway employee carried out a head count and made a note. There were several anxious faces that were pacing up and down the platform buying eatables, magazines for these boys and delivering last minute advices. As the engine driver sounded the horn and the train started rolling, most of the people on the platform started running with the train and waving at their wards. Some of them were weeping and some trying in vain to control their tears. As the train picked speed and rolled out of the station, there was an erry silence in the compartment apart from the noise created by the movement of the train and the creeking sound of the iron wheels rubbing against the steel track. These young men, unknown to each other were sitting quietly and most of them were pensive. Some of them, who had a window seat, were staring out of the window with a blank look on their face. One of the boys pulled out a pack of cigarette from his handbag and glanced at the person sitting next to him and hesitatingly offered him a smoke. He politely thanked him and said that he did not smoke. The boy who had offered the cigarette lit one and started a conversation with the person sitting beside him. After almost an hour of journey, these young men had formed little groups among themselves and had started conversing on various issues and topics. In fact, these young men were a batch of freshly recruited Indian Air Force Technicians who were on their way to Bangalore to be trained at the Ground Training School. By mid-day on 7 Oct 1987, the group had gelled into a unit. Gone was the apprehensive attitude,
missing was the pensive mood from the body language. They were conversing on various topics. Some were sharing their experience of college life while some were feeling nostalgic. Quite a few shared memorable moments they had spent with their girlfriends which they treasured and cherished. Early in the morning on 8 Oct 1987 before the sun had risen in the horizon, the Madras Mail chugged into Madras Central station. The men de-boarded the train and went into a huddle. In small batches they trooped to the Railway cafeteria and devoured Idli, Vada and Dosa with piping hot coffee. After all had finished giving their taste buds the pleasure of South Indian food, they trekked towards the platform to board the Vrindavan Express for their onward journey to Bangalore. The journey from Madras to Bangalore was a fascinating one. Beautiful landscape, plush seating arrangements and the smell of flowers being worn by pretty women made the journey memorable. But among all a man who looked the youngest yet the healthiest of the lot found it difficult to adjust with the group. As the journey progressed, others tried to make the man comfortable by speaking to him, cutting jokes and pulling his legs. Later he confided that he belonged to a remote village and he found the culture of the city difficult to adjust. By late evening, as the train reached Banglore city, the boys were received at the railway station by a team of Airforce personnel who packed the boys into a bus and began the journey towards the Training School. A sumptuous dinner with rice, chapatti, rasam, dal and rajma was enough for the men tired and exhausted after the journey. The charpoy (bed) offered to sleep seemed to be a double thick mattress as all of them hurried to unpack their baggage and go to sleep. But sleep was difficult to come. Thoughts of parents, siblings, girlfriends kept the men engrossed in conversation. Suddenly, the noisy barrack was silenced by a growling voice, ―Lights out jokers. Its 10.30 pm. Else you all will be sent for frog jump.‖ There emerged a sudden pin drop silence. Then another voice thundered, ―Tomorrow I will give you some relaxation, but by 7 AM you all must assemble in the parade ground in shorts and tees. Mind it late comers will not be spared.‖ The silence was broken next morning when a whistle blowing Gentleman woke the boys up at 5.30 AM. Unused to the military way of life, the boys took the instructions given last night a bit casually and
most of them reached the parade ground late. Corporal PK Pandey, the Ground Training Instructor was standing in a corner of the huge parade ground with a cruel look on his face. After the head count was done the group was sent for a frog jumping session. Whoever, tried to be a bit smart and hoodwink the Instructor, was subjected to other forms of correction drill. Thus began the journey of transforming men and boys into Gentlemen Soldiers. The ethos of military was injected into the blood within the first couple of hours of physical conditioning. The day progressed with a special appointment with the military barber. He trimmed the manes of the prospective heroes as if he was mowing a lawn. Whatever he left relieved the trainees from oiling and combing them thus saving valuable time. The next couple of years were grinding and rigorous. Physical conditioning, technical studies, military service training, battle craft punched with games and sports became a part of life for these men. At times bearing the physical strain used to become too taxing and seemed to be an ordeal but the men had gradually been hardened and tempered like raw iron to steel. Walk outs to the civilian world used to be the most eagerly awaited event on Sundays. In the meantime, some of the trainees made their mark in sports reaching great heights and bringing laurels for them as well as for the Training Command and Indian Air Force. And finally the day arrived when the trainees had to appear before the Board for the final assessment of their efforts. Midnight oil was burnt a lot to catch up with lost time. Last minute notes were exchanged to help each other. The air was filled with tension followed by ecstasy when the results were finally declared. The station parade ground had been decorated with flags and festoons to mark the occasion of the Passing Out Parade of the batch of technicians. Early in the morning, the trainees marched into the ground smartly attired befitting the occasion. Their heads held high, their shoes and badges glittering in the early morning sun. The VIP, awarded some of the trainees with trophies for their excellence and delivered words of encouragement. The gathering comprising of civilian as well as military dignitaries clapped and cheered loudly as the parade commander saluted the VIP for the last time. The end of the parade was marked with jubilation and hugging each other. Years of hard work and dedication had finally bore fruit. The next couple of days were moments of partition and separation. The soldiers trained and tempered were ready to take up the responsibility of taking the country into a new era. They left for their respective units located across the length and breadth of India. During these couple of years, the batch of trainees had become like an extended family. Therefore, parting company became painful and tearful.
Thereafter, gradually with passage of time, the trainees moved further into life, progressed in their career, got married and at the same time shared the immense desire of catching up with old mates whenever the opportunity arrived. In those days mobile phones and internet had not made their mark in India. Therefore, communicating with batch mates was through the ever reliable Field Post Office and service voice data line. Some of them got the chance of meeting each other during OJTs (On Job Training), sports festivals or some social gathering. Yes, quite a few met each other during the Kargil War. Twenty years passed as if it were 20 hours. By 2006, most of the Technicians had decided to hang their boots and try their hand in the civilian world. It was January 2007. The Technicians who had opted to retire had been asked to report to Subroto Park, New Delhi to complete the formalities related to the service records along with the pay and perks drawn during the last 20 years. It was moment of celebration. One by one each of them arrived and reported at the senior technician‘s mess. They hugged each other in joy and delight. But strange scenes were witnessed too. Tears of joy rolled down a few eyes on meeting the old guys. People who had curly hair in their teens had gone bald; some who had hardly any facial hair at the time of Joining IAF had thick moustaches with a tinge of grey, boys who were just out of their teens in 1987 had children. The evening hangout at the Indian Air Force bar was a treat. Recollecting golden days and sharing notes with each other of the last twenty years punctuated with jokes and leg pulling made the next three days memorable. Alas! Again the time to bid farewell to each other arrived. But armed with the technology of Mobile phone and internet, the lost bond was destined to live a long life. It has been close to 27 years now. But the bond, the feeling of camaraderie still remains. We are connected to each other. We have a group in Facebook where we share our moments of joy and sorrow. We meet once in a while at a pub and recollect good old days. Today, we all have established ourselves in the civilian world; yet cherish those golden years when we served in Indian Air Force. Indeed, very nostalgic. Jai Hind………. Kaushik Gangopadhyay is an ex-defense personnel presently working with State Bank of India. He honoured us by accepting our request to share his real experiences and anecdotes of Air-Force life in ‘Down Memory Lane’
THE VERY UNIQUE: SIDDHARTHA YADAV
Siddhartha Yadav is a banker by profession, manager by choice, writer by circumstances and an IIITian. He was born in Kanpur but brought up in Allahabad. He completed his graduation from 'Oxford of the East' Allahabad University with Economics and English Literature. He, then made it to prestigious Indian Institute of Information TechnologyAllahabad for MBA-IT. After that he served in an Insurance company on a very senior profile. Some personal problems and other issues made him resign from that place and walk to solitude. He walked to some unknown corner of India for mental peace and spiritual healing. He came back from there after almost a year but now manager by choice was writer by circumstances. His writing is purely based on his experiences and observations. He always picks up any social issue to pen a script on. ‗Penning with the purpose‘ is his philosophy and he wants his pen to pioneer the change. He can be contacted on https://www.facebook.com/mr.siddharthayadav or mr.siddharthayadav@gmail.com
PEEK-A-BOO : PRERNA VARMA Getting Up
“Death ends a life, not a relationship.” ― Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie
Its morning, but I don‘t wish to get up. Persistent pain takes over me, stabbing in my heart. I feel sick to the stomach as I notice the plumpness of pristine pillows. The bed sheet on your side isn‘t crumpled. Yes, I don‘t want to get up. It‘s an anguishing ordeal. Soon the kids slip into the room. My youngest daughter demands that she needs to see you. The middle one replies, ―He‘s gone.‖ ―But where,‖ the youngest one asks curiously. Both of them look at me. I had to remind them that you are now a star in night sky. ―I wish he were a tiger. I have never seen a tiger,‖ the youngest one says. Without gasping for air, she continues, ―Ma, he promised me he will take me to see tiger.‖ ―And he said he would buy me a new pencil box,‖ the middle one adds. I want to curse you. The kids listened to you, you were good at it. I wasn’t. And now, you have left me all alone. ―Ma, would you buy me a pencil box?‖ the middle one snaps. ―And take me to see the tiger?‖ I have no answers to give. I am neither qualified to earn as much as you did, nor did you have insurance. Just then, our eldest one, who had been silently standing in the corner smiles and asks if we could all go out for a walk! I immediately agree. Anything to avoid giving my younger ones an answer. We storm out. It‘s quite cold outside. Grey clouds fill the sky as we slowly walk towards a community park. Kashmir is clad in white satin, looking young and radiant. The kids seem to love snow. I see two kids enjoying apples. Apparently, the youngest one notices it too. She grabs my sweater and asks, ―Ma, can we have apples?‖ I hear the sound of her gulping saliva. She really wants it. I desperately try to stop myself from sobbing as I utter ‗no.‘ How do I explain my youngest child that we can’t afford two square meals a day, let alone afford apples!
She has tears in her eyes as she yearns for apples. The eldest one comes to my rescue. ―Well, we can‘t have apples today. But if you behave like a good child that you are, maybe we can have Maggi for dinner this Saturday.‖ His tone is commanding, yet kind and subtle. The youngest one wipes off her tears and the middle one asks if the dinner would include her too. For the first time in the past few days, my shoulders don‘t hurt so much. Now, he comes up to me and says, ―Ma, you don‘t need to worry. I have some money saved for Maggi. I told my teacher about papa, she informed our principal and she said that if I could teach some weak students of my class, she would give me some stipend. I agreed. I stay at school for one extra hour.‖ The guilt for not knowing my son‘s whereabouts overwhelms me. Unknowingly, I drop a few tears. He clutches my hand. ―I am not a child Ma. I know things aren‘t good.‖ We stand there in solitude, a smile slowly drawing across our faces as we see the younger ones throwing snow balls at each other. The clouds slowly wither as rays of light crystallize the snow. I am sorry, but I feel happy today. That blindly stabbing pain in my heart is still there. I know that things won‘t be good for years, but I have started to heal. -----We start to take a walk back home. The younger ones question me once again, asking if you are a star. I nod in yes. The eldest one adds that you will always watch them. Today, all three of them have snuggled together in your side of the bed. Tomorrow, the bed sheet will be crumpled and the pillows will be warm. Maybe tomorrow I would want to get out of the bed. Prerna Varma is a versatile writer who has been working with a number of organizations on a freelance basis. She is credited with a book titled THE DUMB AND DUMBFOUNDED. Her writing prowess is free of genre specification and that is what makes her unique.
THE BOLD AND BEAUTIFUL: UDITA PAL
Udita Pal is 18 year old 12th grader from Bokaro Steel City, Jharkhand. She made her debut in writing industry with her short story in Uff Ye Emotions named, ‗NCERT of Love‘ with Himanshu Chabbra which received lot of positive response from readers. . She made place in heart of many renowned authors with her one liner on different topics. She is done with writing 2 different books ‗Adulterated Love‘ which is a commercial fiction – romance and ‗The Dirty Book‘ (With Bestselling author of LOSER, Dipen Ambalia ) which is a satire on Indian Publishing Industry. It is her dream to write at least one book of each genre and is working on one ‗can‘t leak even a single detail right now project‘. She‘s obsessed with social networking websites and can be found online either updating funny one liner on her not-so-interesting-for-her-butentertaining-for-others-life or posting pictures of her. She calls herself a walking scandal and a misunderstood personality. She believes that there is writer in everyone just takes time to come out and make magic with his words. Her dream is to become filmmaker. She loves giving ―Gyaan‖ about love, relationships, lust, friendship, family problems etc. You can reach her on Facebook.com/UditaPal or Uditapal96@yahoo.com or Twitter.com/Swag_Womaniya, or you can follow her blogwww.uditapal.wordpress.com
Fragrance of Heena
A Bit Of We….. Not everyday it happens When you meet someone Who makes you feel happy? Who lets you be yourself? One such day I found him Who worked as a hymn On my life so gloomily dim Kinship clicked in an instant Partially became my crescent In my life adding sweet fragrance Never letting it go off balance Sometimes he sulks so awful And this makes me go fearful Trying my best to make him glee Asking his sorrows to flee Confessing his liking for me Making me wonder about myself Acting on his dry life like a calm sea Allowing me to like my own self Sometimes on his ignorant fling My peace alters to uproar wearily Still I accept him in his own way Hoping we don’t have to drift away We do have fights many a times But still to each other we do sublime Thankful to the heavenly one for my gift Each other’s mood we together uplift Gone were the days when it was you and me Now it’s always going to be a bit of we Such a kinship is indeed my blissful treasure And for this I won’t allow anyone to interfere!! Heena Ahuja is a girl who loves to scribble the rhythmic melody of literature. She lives in Mumbai.
Mr. YouKnowMe Speaks‌ #100HappyLives
#100HappyDays, I'm not sure if you have seen this hashtag on your social networking profile or not, but I see it quite often. This hashtag started from a website (http://100happydays.com/) which asks you to signup and share your happiness for 100 days by posting your Happy photos on you social network by putting a hashtag #100HappyDays. The concept has become an instant rage among netizens across the world and social networks became overcrowded with millions of Happy Photos. I found this concept really intriguing and in a way revolutionary as well. Quite like #PayItForward, which asks you to help three people, and ask them to help three more and so on. There had been a moified #PayItForward initiative, which actually turned into #TakeItBackword. In this version, people were supposed to ask on their facebook profile and send gifts to five people who commented first. And those five need to do the same on their profile. Amazingly, I have seen people sending gift to five people and taking from as many as they could. A purpose lost in greed. Meanwhile, I chose another way. My favorite - a silent way where I chose to make a random person happy each day without keeping a count. However, I remember when it started due to the significance of the day. Soon I will forget that too. Am I being a saint? Not at all. I am trying to save my soul. For the years passed by, I did nothing for anyone else. Today, I'm still the same. I'm doing everything for myself. All I'm doing is that I included everyone else in myself. Gives a purpose. Maybe a greater purpose. Not sure about it. But it does give a lot of happiness. I remember when I gave a small treat to street kids on a food stall. They ate Aloo-Tikki with a joy that I had never seen before. And when I read a fairy tale to a blind kid, she cheered up my soul. And when I gave a pack of Parle-G to little puppies near my flat, they still run when I park my bike. And....and countless moments... I call it #100HappyLives, because 100 days, that's what doctors gave me. After that, I will become a traveler to infinity. Destinations unknown. I hope lives I touched will give me a place in their heart, if not in their soul. Maybe, I will live even after I'm gone. Maybe... Did you make any life happy?
Mr. YouKnowMe is someone whom all of us know yet all of us are still to discover. He is a biker, an author and like all of us, a lover of life‌ He is at present working with an IT Company.
Amateur Scribbles‌ CHANGE You said everything got changed, Everywhere there was something new. I haven't realize your words before, Because, I failed to notice that you were changed for me, everyday , passing through. How? It happened, didn't know when, Everything around was strange, Those days, worst were the conditions, My thoughts were that beautiful for you, Unfortunately, my mind changed every imprinted impressions. Suddenly, you became unpredictable , Your change made my heart fragile, Weren't you the same person,
I Met Her She hit me in the Sun Like a monsoon rain Deep blue eyes Speaking of truthfulness Like I've met her somewhere Maybe she was that girl But when it came I ran out of words And my throat sank She was to me What string is to guitar Her smell sank deep in my mind Like I met her behind the lime Then she disappeared in the thick air Like a promise lost God freeze the moment I meet her again She hit me in the Sun Like a monsoon rain... - Shreesh Tiwari, IIT Roorkee,
Letters in seasons
Who once hold my hands The one who asked to me , hold it back for miles ? Do admit ! That we were together , No, not only , I was alone into that relationship, You got changed, you left me here, Why did you push me into such hardships?
Autumn leaves, Sandy fragrance, Thunder clouds, Together, we breathe poetic assonance.
The warm winter, Mystic fear, Chopping some colour,
Well, this wasn't all, I wanted you to know,
We live in dreamy shore.
Believe it or not! I don't care for you anymore truly,
Mango leaves cent,
As I have now grown up STRONG........ - Lalima Yadav
Summer cool slate, I write Seasons of love letters you create.
Life Space
Longing to have a heart of gold, coloured with juvenile crescent's peacefulness in the scarce
For making memories, Framing experiences, Narrating the seasons. Insane in the reality, Poetic in the permanence, Injured of its cycle, Breathless between the living and leaving Life space shrinks in to nothingness.
The Golden Twilight
twilight. The golden twilight, Is the cycle of wishes in the life‘s hopeful ignite. Hope for venerating light, Princely light, Unending light. To return to the shells of memories childhood seashore site. - Jyothsna Phanija, EFL University, Hyderabad, India.
It was the golden twilight, Female : Daughter Of God When my mother caressed me in delight. In thoughtless thinking, aimless future, my childhood was shining like lambent moonlight. In the river of happiness, mountainous innocence, I was the princes of enkindling light. It was the golden twilight The time before the youthful moonlight After the playful sunlight I welcomed artificial intelligence to guide my innocence‘s aplite. Now in the unfriendly world my childhood and its innocence is hushed in the darkness of the night. Crimson love, purple kindred, towards gray career, pinkish buddies all evanesced in the melancholy sight.
When she was born, The world looked quite unfamiliar. But it sounded like a good place, With mother beside her. As she grew she realized, she was born in a world of masculinism. As she travelled to various places, She felt something she had never dreamt of. She had to fear day and night from the prawling hunters, she was followed up, beaten, closely watched. Being powerless she cried in the dark corners of the room. Her parents kept her close to protect her. She wanted to fly like everyone, But unfortunately the masculine didn't let her. As she turned from girl to woman, she realized that it could be changed. The generation starts and ends with her. The teachings preached can be modified, so she preached her son to just respect female and she expected that the masculinism would end someday. - Rohit Bharti IIT Guwahati