15 Rupees – Part 1

By Ravi J Singh

“The next station is Tilak Nagar, the doors will open on the left. Please stay away from the doors” – This announcement has lately become the cue for me to vacate my hard earned seat in Delhi Metro, which I mostly win at Rajeev Chowk metro station. It being the biggest terminal so far in Delhi metro for different metro routes, always gives you an opportunity to earn the seat, but only if you are already in the metro not outside.

However, even for that you have to act smart, you need to be swift and precise, you need to read between the lines, you need to understand the sitting composures of the people occupying the seats, you need to make a very good guess if the person will change the metro on or before Rajeev Chowk or not. Otherwise your bet can just get horribly wrong, making you stand the whole journey. And, these days from the time they have this separate compartment concept for women, standing in metro has become very less attractive.

See it is not a joke after all, you need to have a hawk eye, the analytics need to be good, sixth sense needs to be precise; the seats are limited. Moreover, you cannot bet on the four seats which are reserved for elderly, physically handicapped, and the weaker sex, oops, the stronger sex, sorry! So, that leaves you with only 12 seats. I don’t go for the 2 couple seats at the side, not my turf.

My law of probability says only 30-40% vacancy rate for these 12 seats on Rajeev Chowk. And, moreover there are other smart people too who act the same way and stand literally on the top of their ‘party’, to ‘say’ their claim on the seat. I was lately becoming very good at this business, as my guess earned me the seat today as well.

It was still another 15 minutes of journey remaining when at Patel Nagar entered two women and three men, the seat next to me got vacant and one of the lady and the man shot themselves for that seat, man just winning the race with a millisecond. I don’t know why I felt bad for that lady. Not that she was very attractive, she was of average looks, not my kind, but I felt bad for her loosing the game. 2 minutes later another race was won, the good man won from the apathy-man inside me, and I decided to offer my seat to her.

But, suddenly a young boy seeing this as a chance snapped towards the seat. “Hey, hey, hey, I vacated the seat for the lady”, I told him catching him from his shoulder. “I never knew, I thought you were getting off the train”, he replied a bit frustratingly while the lady occupied the seat. The conversation was enough to evoke attention of the 30-40 souls present around us. I told him smilingly “you saw I offered her the seat, and got up, still you thought I was getting off-board”. “Anyways, you were sitting on the ladies reserved seat, see there”, he pointed towards the two corner seats, which are reserved for women and tried to enlighten me. I was not surprised on his shamelessness and ignorance, and replied “Dude, those are only two seats in this row which are reserved, not the whole row”, and added smirkly “By the way, you seems like to be one of those men who even after occupying those two seat do not get up by themselves when a woman arrives around you”.

This line was enough to embarrass him completely, there were chuckles around, people were entertained swiftly, don’t know if some lessons were learned or not, no apology was offered by the guy, no appreciation was shown by the lady. The chivalry took the backseat. The metro and its travelers were mundanely running on the tracks as usual.

“The next station is Tilak Nagar, the doors will open on the left. Please stay away from the doors”. My station had arrived, or rather, the metro train reached my daily destination. I got off the train and ran towards the exit point. I had this weird habit of running towards the exit point daily, and challenge myself to be at least amongst the first three people to exit from the card swipe area, as if some gold, silver or bronze medals were awaiting me. But, I was winning, winning in my mind, and by now had scores and scores of virtual trophies and medals and self- acclamation of ‘how fit I am’ with me!

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तू खूबसूरत है बहोत

By Syed Bilal

तू खूबसूरत है बहोत

जानती है क्या !

संगेमरमरी मूरत है तू

पहचानती है क्या !

पलकों में तेरी सुबह की

आहट कुबुलाती है

नैन जब खुलते है तेरे

तो सुबहा  मुस्कुराती है ,

मेरी सुबहा और शाम है तू

जानती है क्या !

मेरी सुराही मेरा जाम है तू

पहचानती है क्या !

तू चाँद की करवट है

नदिया का पनघट है

दरिया की सरहद है

जानती है क्या !

रोते हुए चेहरे पे

हसी की दस्तक है

पहचानती है क्या !

आँखें है तेरी दो दीये

रोशन सा इनमे नूर है

मुड़कर जो देखे जिस तरफ

दीवाली छोड़ जाती है

जानती है क्या !

बाहें फैला जो खड़ी होती तू

बारिश तुझपे उतर आती है

पहचानती है क्या !

आपका :

बिलाल

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Garhwal Diaries 12 – Rishikesh Retro Riviera

Some moments captured within a span of 24 hours in Rishikesh – the gateway to the Garhwal Himalayas.

A bird in the eye

Painted Bark

The Bridge

Ray of Hope

Still Life

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• Garhwal Diaries 10 – Enroute Rishikesh (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
• Garhwal Diaries 9 – Descent From Kedarnath (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
• Garhwal Diaries 11 – A Day at Devprayag (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
• Garhwal Diaries 8 – Random Clicks in Kedarnath (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
• Garhwal Diaries 6 – Memories of Kedarnath (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
• Garhwal Diaries 5 – Reached Sitapur (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
• Garhwal Diaries 4 – Reaching Sitapur (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
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Ghanchakkar Review: Meat Missing From Story

 

By Ankush Kumar

The one thing that is common between the intelligent filmmakers of Bollywood, the dumb ones and the pseudos’ is their love for the disease called Amnesia. The pseudos’ mostly get this one right because their audiences are equally mushy and stupid.

The dumb ones have little options but it’s the intelligent ones that goes horribly wrong. When expectations from a cult filmmaker are massive and you are treated to an overdose of amnesia the end result is ‘Ghanchakkar’.

Loosely inspired by the Danny Boyle film trance where a man robs a painting and forgets this one has money as its subject. But as it has happened umpteen times an inspiration with dash of Bollywood clichés and the movie gives its audience a burst of amnesia at the end.

The movie starts perfectly well. Setu has shot the bank heist brilliantly. Quirky humor, stellar performances and bouncy music gives you a hope that delicious biryani is being cooked. But beyond the first hour the movie begins to fizzle out. Repeated gags and the film starts to choke. In the end you feel cheated when you realize that bharta has been served instead of biryani.

On the acting front Emraan Hashmi is honest to his role, Vidya Balan is brilliant playing a boisterous Punjabi housewife whose fashion sense will give complex to the behenjis from Delhi. But it’s the funny don who is a stand out in the entire movie.

Raj Kumar Gupta is better of picking up real life issues than making a mockery of short stories. In the end you can only hope that the intelligence will return in the future. For the moment though the meat is missing.

 

 

The Stupid Girl!

By Ganesh Subramanian

She thinks she is beautiful

But in reality she is pitiful

She thinks she is everyman’s dream

But seeing her face in midnight makes a child scream

She thinks she is intelligent

But her brain can’t be activated even by a chemical reagent

She thinks she is worldly-wise

But her superficial knowledge is like melting ice

She thinks she is a super star

But she is nothing more than a black stone of tar

She thinks her boyfriend is a Rambo

But who will tell her that she herself is a Dumbo

She thinks she is the cynosure of all eyes

But she is nothing more than a walking dead body hunted by flies

She thinks she wears the best dress in the town

But seeing her colour choice makes even the apathetic frown

She thinks she is a heavenly wonder

But her friends know that she is only a God’s blunder

When trying to think, her lips curl

But thoughts don’t come to her, after all she is a stupid girl !

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Top 5 Summer Getaways in India

To many people holidays are not voyages of discovery, but a ritual of reassurance.

                                                                                                            Philip Andrew Adams

For those who stay near the national capital region in and around Delhi, between May to September, brings months of torture with regards to heat and humidity. Thankfully the northern region has some getaways that you could think of to rejuvenate yourself and get back to action that your work so demands in the daily life. We bring out 5 places that could get your body; mind and soul back to sanity through the sheer climate and locales of the place.

Shimla: Nothing beats Shimla during the heat. The “Queen of Hill Stations” as it is so famously called is choc-a-bloc with people from all parts of the country during summers. If that makes you feel apprehensive you can rest assured that there are least 15 places around the town which will give you the peace you need away from the hustle and bustle. The place got its fame first time when the Brits made it their retreat and also their winter capital. The remains of those times can still be seen. The place is also a huge honeymoon destination because of its serene, quite and romantic environment.

Major Attractions: The Ridge and the Mall, Christ Church and the Tara Devi Temple.

Leh-Ladakh: If you are an adventure freak and also have a largish holiday window, Ladakh is the place to visit during the summers. It needs time though and if you are travelling air, the duration could be 7 days and if you are travelling road you need at least 10 days to figure out the entire place. Because of the climate it actually needs acclimatization of a day or two to settle down. Ladakh is the highest plateau in the state of Kashmir and most of it is a minimum 3000 feet above sea level. The distance and the extremeness of the location has made sure the rest of the country is still far away and the beautiful place is sparsely populated.

Major Attraction: Leh, Drass Valley, Nubra Valley, Pangong, Tso Moriri, Zangla and many Buddhist Monasteries.

Manali: “Valley of Gods” or “India’s Switzerland” as its known as, Manali is a wonderful place to be during the summers. The great climate, the scenic surrounding, Himalayas by the Beas river make it a perfect getaway from the hectic city life we so awfully lead. Trekking, skiing, river rafting and mountaineering make it a destination to explore for the adventure nutties as well.

Major Attractions: Snow capped Himalayan peaks, Beas river, adventure sports and fruit orchards.

Munnar: When we talk of holiday destinations, “God’s Own Country” Kerala cannot lag behind and Munnar is definitely one of India’s best summer holiday destinations. Tea Gardens, dense vegetation, awesome surroundings and magnificent weather mean Munnar has people flocking from all over the World. It is also very popular amongst honeymooners.

Major Attractions: Tea plantations, National Park, Walk in the clouds, lakes, waterfalls, vegetation, Bird Sanctuary etc.

Nainital: For those looking for a break from the dust and the heat, Nainital comes across as a great solution. One of India’s biggest summer destinations, Nainital is a favorite amongst tourists during summers. The high mountains and the vast stretches of green across the horizon add to the pictorial beauty. The name as believed by the locals has been taken from the Goddess Naina. There is also a temple dedicated to this goddess, present in Nainital that you can visit.

Major Attractions: high mountains, Naina Devi temple, fabulous resorts, greenery

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Garhwal Diaries 11 – A Day at Devprayag

I waited for more that 2 hours on the road. But when the authorities declared that it will almost the entire evening for the roads to be cleared, I decided to return to Devaprayag for a night halt.

One of the five Prayags, Devaprayag is the Confluence of Alkananda and Bhagirathi.

I put up in a motel for the night. I must say it was a welcome break. Especially keeping in mind the view from the motel balcony.

A bend in the river

Bend Captured from the Motel Balcony

The Confluence

Chai with Choco Pie

Vegetable Garden at the Backyard

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Ganga…What Happened to You?

By Shivani Gupta

Excerpt from my diary entry – 9^th April 2013

Crazy limbs bound in harem pants and loose shirt, flying in all direction, eyes brimmed with tears, cold breeze slapping on cheeks to wake me up…but I was lost. I was lost with the crowd underneath tri- color canopy next to Ganga Ghat.

While we were busy releasing our caged inner soul from turmoil’s of hunger and quenches of daily life there was somebody enjoying show stealthily. When our limbs were moving up, down, right and left in chorus, she was lying lazily, stretched and basking under sun. Her charismatic beauty was scintillating with sun reflection and embellished with diamond stars. Her rattling noise against pebbles was like peals of laughter. She was laughing on our complexity and eagerness to evolve and be like her.

Dark clouds on India have only one sadistic tale to narrate. It is unfortunate to see believers of Ganga against her and accusing her to take away lives of their beloved ones. Ganga known to spread happiness, prosperity and divinity is sprawling catastrophically on humanity.

Certainly, something has gone wrong with her. Two months back when I met her she wasn’t like this, she was calm and serene. I have seen long queue of believers, embracing her with holy bath.

Two months back, I met Ganga at Ganga Ghat at International Yoga Festival (IYF) in Rishikesh. IYF was perfect excuse for me to live by myself for seven days, do what I am passionate about – Yoga. Away from hustle bustle of life, with hundreds of Yogi from different nations, performing different styles of Yoga and learning about eternal peace.

Those seven days were slow as each moment was enjoyed fullest. I was away from family, friends and gadgets with social network. I had nothing to tweet or share on face book but to evolve myself as a Yogi. Unexpectedly, in those seven days I became very close to one, I didn’t understand her language, she was different from others. It was due to her presence I never felt to ink my experience in diary.

After morning sessions when everybody dismissed for shower, I rushed in my flip flops, yoga mat pressed between arm pits and clothes drenched in sweat to Ganga Ghat. Spending time in solitude with her was intoxicating. When she was around my fully loaded heart with emotions, flashback stories and gossips was lighter.

On last day, I didn’t meet her as could not muster guts to say her ‘Bye’. I had no choice to be like her; unrestrained and self ruling Ganga.

I am alive and caged happily in my same routine.

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Uttarakhand Floods: Nature’s Fury or Have We Dug Our Own Graves? – Part IV

Chandan Das wonders about the reason due to which we were not able to take requisite action despite Nature giving us timely warnings, in the fourth part of the Uttarakhand Floods series.

“For I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.” – William Wordsworth

UTTARAKHAND is PRONE to Natural Disasters: So what?

Ok I agree to the fact that the very nature of topographical, geological, geomorphological and seismic situation in Uttarakhand makes it prone to large kinds of disasters. It is part of young Himalayan mountain, prone to landslides, erosion and flash floods.  And this is not something new. Similar disasters have been found in other countries like China, Italy & USA and even in UTTARAKHAND, the Asiganga hydropower project had played a key role in the Uttarkashi disaster a couple of years ago. I mean you cannot avert a cloudburst, but you can certainly reduce the damage!

Not that Mother Nature did not give any timely warnings. Through the years, since the 1991 Uttarkashi earthquake that left nearly 2,000 dead and thousands without shelter in the Himalayan state, there have been several warnings, such as abnormal rise in temperature, reoccurring landslides, cloud bursts and flash floods in vast regions of Tehri, Pauri, Chamoli, Uttarkashi and Almora. The headlines three years ago were similar: ‘flash floods leave North India in deep trouble’ and ‘flood, rain, wreak havoc in North India’. The monsoon of 2010 brought with it such massive losses of lives, property, crops and infrastructure that the state said its development clock had been set back by a decade!! In August 2012, buildings were washed away by Uttarkashi flash floods. Immediately after that, the Uttarakhand government report actually asked for a legislation and its strict implementation to ensure that no construction, including roads are allowed next to the river. As per official records, 233 villages were marked  disaster-prone and could face Uttarkashi-like situation any moment. Sadly, two months later, a cloudburst in Rudraprayag had claimed 69 lives (the very same place where the Disaster started).

It may be some consolation that nature’s fury is not well handled even by some of the most advanced industrial societies, as demonstrated by Hurricane Sandy in New York last year and Katrina earlier. But we should at least try and be prepared by rechecking urban water draining infrastructure lest we suffer due to the monsoon that is in fact our saviour. But nobody, barring a handful of environmentalists, ecologists and local people, paid heed to the warnings. A place that is prone to disasters because of fast-occurring climate change should be guarded with utmost sensitivity towards ecology and environment, but the administration closed its eyes to all illegal constructions!!

So was it just a nature’s fury or have we dug our own graves ?

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• Uttarakhand Floods: Nature’s Fury or Have We Dug Our Own Graves? – Part II (missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com)
• https://missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com/2013/06/27/uttarakhand-floods-natures-fury-or-have-we-dug-our-own-graves-part-iii/
• https://missionsharingknowledge.wordpress.com/2013/06/25/uttarakhand-floods-natures-fury-or-have-we-dug-our-own-graves-part-i/

Sweating on a Dry Day

By Joybrato Dutta

My bloody door-bell can even wake a dead man. I struggled my way through the living room, overcoming couches and my half-dead drunken friend. It infuriated me when I saw that the screaming door-bell didn’t wake my room-mate. I opened the door with an annoyed expression.

Waking up after drinking till 5 AM is a work of bravery. Then to walk a whole fucking 15 feet to answer the door bell is an act that deserves the highest recognition for bravery. And then to see that a not-so-important friend standing at your doorstep is murderous. He was wearing a silly grin and then asks me the dumbest question “Bhaai so rahe the kya”. “Aand mat kha, kya chahiye bata”, I retorted.

Not so important friend – Yaar koi theka pata hai jo aaj khula hoga                                          

Me (screaming on top of my voice)  – Chutiya-gaya kya, kahin bhi mil jaayega, itne theke hai.

Not so important friend – Bhaai aaj dry day hai. Sab bandh hai.

The world darkened in front of me and only the words ‘Aaj dry day hai’ gleamed on the dark screen. My voice shook as I asked “Kya?? Kyun?? Not so important friend – Pata nahin, log keh rahe hai, koi Gandhi Saptah hai

That was the first time I heard of a blasphemy like that. I didn’t even know what it meant. Somehow I gathered the strength to bang the door on his face.

I hurried towards my half-dead friend. Somehow I managed to wake him. With a heavy heart I broke the bad news to him. He was shocked. Logical questions like “Gandi saptah kya hai”, “abb kya karein”, “Saturday ko dry day kaise ho sakta hai”, followed.

Cut to 20 minutes later. Faces had been washed. Teeth had been cleaned.

My always confident room-mate Tiwary said “Abbe ghabra mat mil jaayega”. And we started making some frantic calls. From bosses, to colleagues, from the nearest dhaba to the hot acquaintance, we left no page unturned. Alas! None could help us.

And then at quarter to 9, I uttered the most passionate statement that any drunkard can say, “Chalte hai bahar, aur tab tak nahin launtenge jab tak sharab haath na lage. The solemn oath triggered our footsteps, and we stepped out of our house.

We checked the local bars. We begged them to give us a bottle, or at least tell us a place where we could get one. They didn’t tell. They ignored us.

From Andheri West we walked up to Andheri East. We tried every small ‘Bar and Restaurant’ and every ‘Paan Gumtti’ there. But getting booze on a dry day seemed impossible.

We trotted through every narrow lane of Andheri East hoping to find a bar that served alcohol. Till then BBM, Facebook, Twitter, Whatsapp, SMSs and phone calls had failed. There seemed to be no hope. We were cursed with sobriety.

Defeat never tasted so dry. With reluctance in our heart we got on an auto. We asked him to take us to Chakala. No we weren’t excited about its similarity with the word Chakhla, which mean whorehouse. Another booze-seeker told us that we might get booze there.

But we dint seem to walk the path of luck. Every bar was closed in Chakala. The auto guy seemed more disappointed than us. With a broken heart we asked him to steer his 3-seater cart towards home.

Tiwary and I looked at each other like how Ricky Ponting must have looked at Michel Clarke after losing to India at the World Cup Quarter-finals. Tried everything, yet couldn’t achieve the target.

And then, we got a call from God. In the form of a friend. The voice on the other side spoke the most beautiful words, “Bhaai Oshiwara mein Adarsh bar mein try kar. Suna hai wahan mil raha hai.”

By the way I screamed Tiwary and the auto guy knew I had found the destination. I gave him the directions and in 15 minutes we were in front of Adarsh Bar. I walked up to the closed entrance door. No sooner had I reached the door than 3 filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed louts gathered around me.

Their expressions and shrill muttering made me ask them “Dost beer milega?”  One of them signalled me to get back in my auto. Bewilderment struck!!! Why is he asking me to sit? Sense prevailed and I got back in my auto. Tiwary looked disappointed. “bhaai khali haath kyun aa gaye?”

Before I could answer, one of the filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed louts came and sat inside the auto. He ordered the auto driver to drive towards the RTO

Me – RTO kyun?

Filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed lout – Sir yaahan ek baar chaapa padh chukka hai, phhir padhega

Me – to??? RTO kyun jaana hai?

Filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed lout – Police ne saara maal zabt kar liya hai. Abb jo milna hai wahin milega

Me – RTO mein daru?

Filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed lout – bharosa rakho sir, sham se bahut customers ko dila chukka hun

I looked at Tiwary. We both took a decision and the thirsty passionate booze-seeker won over the matured civilian. The ride till the RTO seemed never ending. Finally after smoking 3 cigarettes we reached the RTO in Four Bungalows.

The filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed lout asked us to stay outside. I gave him a thousand rupee note and asked him to get us 4 bottles of Heineken. He smiled and left.

Cut to 15 minutes later.

He had not returned. Somewhere deep down I had a feeling that all this might be a scam. He might not return. He gave us his number, but he was not answering the call. We waited there. Patiently.

After some time I started taking baby steps towards the RTO. I was scared. Tiwary tried to stop me. He felt we should leave. But I dint listen and surged ahead.

Finally I entered the gates of the RTO. I was looking all around trying to figure out my way to the main office, when I heard voices. I walked discreetly  towards them.  The thrilling Bollywood scenes had taught me how to avoid getting caught. I made sure I didn’t step on any dry leaf, or kick any empty bucket.

And then I saw a scene I shall never forget. In the compound made for confiscated vehicles, sat a bunch of cops on the roof of some really expensive cars, drinking like there would be no tomorrow. If I had 5 seconds more I would have clicked a photo and my FB page would have been thronged with comments. But as soon as this thought dawned upon me a hand held my shoulder.

It was a hawaldar. “Kya chahiye customer ko” he screamed. I could have fainted. Not because of fear but because of his smelly mouth. I stammered. Si……Sir…..a….woh…. Just then the filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed lout came to my rescue. “Sir yeh customer hai, beer maangta isko, vahich lene gaya tha”

The smelly mouth hawaldar gave me a stare and walked away. The filthy-looking, shabbily-dressed lout handed me the bottles. I asked for the change. “Sir abhi dry day ko same price mein thodi na milta. Har botal 250 ka hai. To chaar botal ha hajaar hua na” I wasn’t really in a condition to bargain. I checked the bottles and walked out.

An anxious Tiwary with a scared auto-driver had been waiting for me. I ran towards them. The clinking bottles told them that target had been achieved and soon our thirsts shall be quenched. We sat in the auto and rushed home.

As we entered our apartment we held our heads high. We lived up to the solemn oath we had taken. We didn’t return empty handed. And then we filled the beer mugs and raised a toast to the sweatiest dry day of our lives.