“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

The mid-winter cold wave had not stilled the village so much as the call for strike by the Naxals ( A terrorist group active in some states of India) had hushed up normal life in that village. All shops remained closed. The roads looked deserted without any traffic. And in the evening when the villagers came out of their houses and gathered in the streets in small groups, most of them talked about the acts of violence that had broken out in last two days. A cloud of fear gripped everywhere.

Both print and electronic media corroborated that a young village chief was dragged out of his home and was killed by some sharp weapon. The family members cried and the police remained holed up as usual. The public preferred silence because in India, which is the biggest democracy of the world, people are good at living like sheep. The leaders slumber in Air Conditioned chambers with Z+ security while the common man lives his life in a state of lawlessness surrounded by many man-eating greedy wolves. Still life goes on….

When the disappointed and terribly perturbed citizens open the TV hoping for a little concern from the so called leaders, they see that the vehicles of their leaders speed past a group of helpless people who have been the victims of a recent explosion. The cries of the wounded people for help cannot pierce the closed glass windows of the leaders’ moving vehicles. Still life goes on and the ruling party prepares for the next election even if one of the wounded dies prematurely.

Why should not the hopeless public stand with ANNA or RAMDEV? After all, they are the few who stand with us in the gutter but still look at the stars in the sky.

Result Analysis.......

The first period of college! The principal enters the class with the result sheet of Pre-test Exam. He scolds, rebukes, warns and then mellows his voice and attempts to pursue and convince the students for a better result. But his mellowed voice no longer continues. Something queer happens. Silence pervades the class. He pauses for a moment. Then he calls the name of a Pankaj Mallick. He points out that he is short of attendance and that he is lurching at the bottom of the result sheet. In response to his announcement a boy sitting on the back bench rises up and swallows all the bitter words with his face downward. 

The boy stands up putting up a grim face but a clear red rose gets visible on his bosom. The rose was a prominent sticker pasted on the front pocket of the college uniform shirt. The result analysis now takes a new direction. The red red rose attracts both anger and contempt from the principal. He shouts at the top of his voice. He shouts because he thinks the college uniform is tarnished by the display of such love symbol by a teenager. One of the lecturer who had accompanied the Principal into the classroom now goes one step further and plucks the flower from the boy’s shirt. The boy instantly loses both his identity as a student and his identity as a lover of beauty. 

Like a whirlwind the squad of the teachers leaves the class. And the result of RESULT ANALYSIS is an intimidated class that learns to be blind to a Red Red Rose.

Back Ground Music of Parichay (Tele Serial on Colours)

The film 'Dil Kabbadi' had a beautiful song with the words"Zindegi Ye Safar Mey Hein ,Kat Raha Hey Rasta" but I had never given much attention to the song. The song came and faded in the memory. It neither found a place in my music library nor in my pc or mobile. But the beautiful act of beautiful Kirti Nagpure and Handsome Sameer Soni gave a new dimension to the song's appeal. The song  most often constitutes the background music of the serial when the pair interact in subtle languages of gestures and expressions.

A chunk of the song is hosted for the benefit of all song lovers.

(The link to download will be available at the bottom of the linking page. Go with SLOW DOWNLOAD. Enter the captcha and enjoy.)

 

When we shut the doors and windows……

It was Diwali. Everywhere there were a lot of shopping, print and tele ad campaigns, rush in the markets and hotels. The world seemed to move faster and happier. But my heart did not co-operate me. I could not feel yesteryear's joy inside me. My feelings for Diwali had been buried deep in an unreachable soft tissue which remained obscure and untraceable. The day was highlighted by two pieces of SMS from old friends whom I did not feel necessary to send return SMS. I remained in my room with my doors and windows shut. 

Often we shut the doors and windows of our rooms with a desire to have a feel of undisturbed peace and safety. We sit or lean on the bed for hours to forget the complexities of the outside world. However, most of the time we find that, in doing so, we end up in suffocation instead of peace and safety. It is because Peace is something which comes from within. It is the stately dance of clear conscience on the notes of selflessness.  A broken heart and a disturbed mind cannot be repaired by simply shutting the doors and windows of a house. The healing needs something deeper, something nobler, something beyond the rules and commonsense of a worldly life.

The world around me celebrated the beauty of lights and the explosive joy of crackers and I attempted to enjoy my silence with my own self. But I could not reach at the peace of mind for which I had stood aloof from the hustle and bustle of the banging evening. I opened my door and went away leaving the suffocating room behind. I inhaled the fresh air and saw that a grandfather was helping his grandson with his crackers. The grandson was inquisitively standing on his toes to learn the lessons of firing crackers. I looked at them and felt a subtle wave of inner joy because they radiated the light of joy aplenty. My gloom disappeared and I thanked Diwali because it brought an eager childhood and a loving grand parenthood giggle together when the sky colorfully illuminated in gratitude to heaven.

Man will be man; Woman will be woman.

The lengthy subject orientation sessions in the conference room and the pedantic lectures of subject experts for the last two days had clouded our minds heavily. All the participants had been mentally fatigued. And we were desperately waiting for the tea break. At the tea break time the door of the conference room opened and I hopefully looked for the peon with cups of hot tea but instead of hot tea a hot girl with a notebook was caught in sight. Electric impulses ran inside my nerves. Her presence was an enchanting diversion. Very demurely the girl pulled a chair and joined the discussion group. I forgot about the tea and so did my friends. The discussion was enlivened even without tea. During the tea break I held the door open for her with the most pleasing words, “First you Mam!” and she went out like a queen exchanging a smile with me. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man would become most well-behaved if the woman is beautiful. After all, Man will be man. 

Next day the subject experts assigned me a criticism class. The demonstration class before my co-participants was a tremendous success. I was highly rated by the subject experts and my co-participants as well. Everybody congratulated me. That girl too smiled with encouraging words and made my day. In the evening I was called by the director of the training institute and I was handed a note of appreciation for my innovativeness implemented during my criticism class. On his table I caught a glimpse of the feedback report of my friends on my class. Almost everyone had indicated my class as an excellent one except that girl. She had given me the lowest possible grade. Behind her smiles she had a sharp axe to cut the wings of a flying bird. After all, woman will be woman. 

(The write up is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance of character is just a coincidence. The story may seem the reader very real because in all spheres of life man will be man & woman will be woman.)