Part of Infinite Time Line


The roads on which I learned to run bicycle in my childhood are weathered now and they greeted me with their ugly faces, quite different from what I saved in my childhood memories. Last year when I had a small visit to my birth place, small colony of manufacturing unit of fertilizer corporation of India, Gorakhpur, I saw a deteriorating life in things and places around the unit which is struggling for its existence for around sixteen years after its decommissioning.

The school where I completed my primary and secondary education is still running. Later after closure of plant, it was converted to ‘kendriya vidyalaya’ and now most of the students come here from outside the colony. During my childhood it was mainly dedicated for the children of people working in the unit. The small temple is still there, perhaps maintained by some religious funding. I do not remember the priest there twenty years ago, but now when I saw the present one looked as if he is the same, over sixty years of age now, doing all rituals in same way from early morning to late evening. The temple, though lost its liveliness of morning prayers to evening aarti, God is still there, in right spirit in those idols, unchanged. Everything else there is definitely aged. Big playgrounds where we used to fight for place to play in center, is full of weeds and untrimmed wild grass. Local market has become smaller now, only with some grocery shops and a stationery shop, just to serve the people living and maintaining remains of the place there.

Fertilizer corporation of India started this unit in 1969 and this place flourished for around two and half decades when obsolescence of technology, fiscal losses coupled with several labor issues forced the government to shut down the unit in 1990. I wonder whether a fair voluntary retirement scheme could ever have compensated labor and technicians for the quality of life they had for them and their children with subsidized education and healthcare.

There was no surprise that the world outside boundaries of the corporation has moved a lot ahead. But the word inside those boundaries looked as if someone lost his glory and waiting for some one in his aged old days for support. This place has lived its time line on infinite yesterdays and infinite tomorrows to come. The part of time line has moved and lost. Time is like energy, if it’s with you life is with you; if it goes, it takes everything. Lets hope that time would return with life and energy intact in the form of some divestment by government or some take over by some or something else…

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When Duryodhana Wept (Part2)


Some more analysis in continuation from “When Duryodhana Wept..”

Theory of human tendency to own a private property in which exchange happens only with something of equal value could be useful to explain Duryodhana’s possessiveness for kingdom of Hastinapur. Though we can debate pros and cons of ‘private property’ concept, we would agree that it is the concept which drove human to acquire new things which resulted in formation of society. From Duryodhana’s point of view, that point in time Hastinapur belonged to him and so, even a small part of it could not be exchanged for free. Was something wrong in such assumptions?

The other part of this discussion is more related with what is right or wrong. But who would decide? That period was lucky to have Lord Krishna, a symbol of the highest intellect however, the same period also had people like Bhishma and Dronacharya with unquestionable intellect, who choosed to fight from Hastinapur side without questioning right or wrong.

The Romans first made a distinction between rights in persons and rights in things. We acknowledge this in today’s world. Was the kingdom of Hastinapur having the rights to choose its king? Whom the kingdom would have chosen for the throne? Would that decision had been on patriarchal hierarchy, existing occupier, eligibility to hold the place or something else. In such case which side lord Krishna would had chosen to be in Pandavas’ or Hastinapur’s.

Let me simplify this argument by advocating history as we know, or as it was presented to us to know. By all known means, even today, we could not find what Hastinapur would have expected. But we know that Krishna was not an ordinary man, he was Lord Krishna, who was capable of making unquestionable distinction between right and wrong. So he decided to take the side of right successor of Hastinapur. Then history saw; everything fell into the logical place with justified outcome.

When Duryodhana Wept in Regret..


The sound of shell conch coming from the temple in nearby monastery announced beginning of the day after the Great War. But this sound was probably not getting through his ears. He was able to hold his consciousness in the unconscious state as if waiting for something before the longest sleep. Duryodhana, shattered and diminished by Bhima during the battle in the last day of war, lying on soil of Kurukshtra, was trying hard to hold and extend his last few breaths yet remained. His egoistic self-esteem was not letting him to accept the fact that he had lost the battle, and Hastinapur would now go to Pandavas. His stubborn persistence was not even allowing his soul to leave the body, perhaps waiting for Ashwatthama, appointed general of Kauravas by him on the eve of eighteenth day of battle, with a hope that he might be coming at any moment with a message of assassination of Pandavas. War was still on, in the mind of Duryodhana, war with self in accepting a defeat.

He tried to open his eyes with an exhale forcing ground dust enough to rise through the air. He could, at the moment, face the sun with blinking eyes. The sound of shell now started reaching, and his consciousness started awaking. Duryodhana saw the vultures flying around waiting for him to die. He tried, with all the remaining powers, to lift himself. Sun, the symbol of life was rising to live but Duryodhana; the symbol of evil and adharma was falling to die. He was still awake in his consciousness, waiting to see Ashwatthama for the message of his life, the message of assassination of Pandavas, with hope. He could remember the last evening when Ashwatthama and Krupacharya come to rescue him, for all possible medications to save their king. He could hear his own words “give me Hastinapur or let me die with a pride of a true fighter in the battle field” and the echo of Ashwatthama’s promise of taking revenge from Pandavas for both his king and dishonorable killing of his father Dronacharya and the roar of the vow that he would return only with beheaded heads of Pandavas.

Ashwatthama returned keeping his promise with five beheaded heads holding their hairs together. He told the story of war he had executed against the polity in the midnight, when along with Krupacharya, he attacked Pandava’s camp killing almost everyone and beheaded Pandava’s head while they were sleeping. He was aware that he had done an unethical act against dharma, against law of war and against polity. The only thing he could justify was his promise. And the best niti (polity) in war is winning. Duryodhana, as if got a new life, asked him to handover head of Bhima.

And that was the biggest shock of his life for Duryodhana, even bigger than the losing the battle to Bhima; he found that the five heads were of sons of Pandavas instead of Pandavas. He identified sons of Pandavas and understood that Ashwatthama mistakenly identified sons of Pandavas as Pandavas. Duryodhana realized biggest loss in life and first time he wept, with all the power he had he cried cursing Ashwatthama ” what have you done?.You’ve killed son of Pandavas; my fight was with Pandavas not with Hastinapur, you, horribly done the mistake of not only your life but the whole Yuga; you killed not the sons of my enemies but the successors of Hastinapur.”

This point in time, Duryodhana became Suyodhana, wept in regret and cried for everything he bet keeping the kingdom at stake. In a flash, he could see his whole life, his stubbornness and lust for kingdom, the war and the outcome. He realized the time to let everything go, even the ego which crafted the war. He accepted the defeat and allowed the death to take everything, including his ego and soul.

First Vaccination


That was usual time when I entered in my house. Prisha was lying on the mat over floor and trying to crawl. As I saw, she started looking at me, stared for a moment, identified me and gave a good smile without a delay even for a fraction of a second.

This smile is good enough for me to get rid of all anxiety and fatigues of the day. And this smile is what I wait whole day to see, feel and assimilate. This is now a regular activity in my evening when after getting freshens up, the first thing I do is a good time with her. She is the one who adore me unconditionally with a laugh on every action of mine. She smiles even if I pretend to shout on her. A five and half month toddler can teach you the biggest lesson of life; ‘we do not need a reason to get smile on our face; just smile’. This time something happened which is not very regular, she, after a little play in relax mood suddenly started crying for no reason. In a flash I was in a flashback, the sound of her high-pitched voice led me to the day when I saw her crying on her first vaccination.

Dr. Gokhle gave the first vaccination when she was just four days old, still on external feed, small, less than 2 and half kilograms in weight. There were two different vaccines, both for injection purpose, one on side of arms and another on thighs. Doctor injected the first one on the arms and that was something much unexpected shock for Prisha after the birth. She, in shock, from a deep sleep, tightened her lips, was about to scream, when doctor injected second vaccine on thighs. That was the limit. And her scream was all time high, I wished not to feel this again. It was painful for both of us, watching your baby crying helplessly is a curse.

Power of Simple Changes (Anniversary Special)


Sixth is good from any international standard. Indian standard will endorse it on 25th and 50th.. at silver jubilee or golden jubilee. Nevertheless, mine is 6th today, the 6th anniversary of marriage.

In one of my posts ‘Unconditional Love’, I discussed ideal, spiritual form of love, which is more motherly in nature. Then ‘Which Category of Love You Are In’, I discussed it in little practical perspective. In this post, I am writing some more deduce insights on love in a companionship.

We demand everything from a companionship but in a confused way. Most of us never want to compromise on individuality of self but expect our partners to do.  There should not be two different rules for two individuals in one relationship. The topic to debate is whether some little changes in individual preferences for a healthy relationship is a compromise or a discipline. Consider this simple case, why we follow traffic rules while driving? We are in a free state, why should we bother to follow any rule? I assume we know the answer. Freedom for me comes only when I respect freedom of others. This holds true for a successful relationship as well. Certain discipline, beyond egocentric self, is required to respect individuality of the partner. Try this, power will simple changes in your routine life will work wonder. And this is not a compromise. Next question is who should start ‘power of simple changes’? The rule is very simple, from one of the oldest phrases, ‘Give and Take’ instead of ‘Take and Give’.

This anniversary is special, I am thankful to Shweta for giving me such a special gift (Prisha) and for demonstrating ‘power of simple changes’. Well, I’ll try as well (anniversary resolution).

Some Gyan


I saw this in an old movie. There is a ranger, sitting in shooting position on a woolen loft, furiously waiting for a wild tiger to come to his target. The ranger is well dressed up, in military like uniform with khaki look. He is belted with adequate bullets and with a riffle filled for one shot at a time. He sets this in time around mid day, when tiger starts its search for food. He also sets this in nearby lake location, which tiger and other animals use in thirst. The wooden loft is cushioned with crop leftovers and covered with green leaves to create illusion. He sets his own direction of target which he has discovered in good research. In all probability the tiger must come from that anticipated point only. And then there is a sheep tied in a peg to attract tiger that is looking for a food. What do think the accuracy of this ranger if tiger actually comes?

Then I saw this in discovery channel. A tiger searches a flock of deer. The tiger uses his unique skills to find a place to hide himself before attack. He targets one in the flock. Not random one. The gifted tool he uses is his teeth, power of jaw and nails in his paw. What do you think the accuracy of this tiger when he actually attacks the flock?

I thought of two simple strategies derived from above settings. To get an opportunity converted into our favor we have two options. 1) If opportunity comes, we would be able to hit only if we are fully prepared for it. Even luck favors preparedness. 2) Develop natural skills like tiger and find your target.

Full Smile


Today I came home little early when I saw Prisha sitting over Shweta’s lap and staring at me.Her eyebrows suggested that she is surprised but still trying to recognize. It take a fraction of second when she gives a full smile, with a modest shy and with a crow’s-feet. This time too, it was same. I recalled, how fast last five and half month past watching Prisha, in the process of change from an infant to a toddler. I recalled the day I first took my baby in my hands.

When Angel of My Life Arrived


I get my deepest sleep in earliest part of morning. In similar time of that morning, Shweta touched my feet to wake me up with a concern and fear on her face. For a fraction of second I could not understand anything. In another fraction of second all the concern on her pregnancy ran through my mind. And then I decoded what she was saying; “I am bleeding”.

In few minutes we were at hospital; the Origin Center, the first thing doctor advised nurse (over phone) to record heart rate of baby. Heart rate? yup..regular practice before delivery of child. We could only see the machine, some wavy fluctuation, some beeps, with weird and frightened face and with an ear open to listen what nurse would just say. I do not know what my baby’s heart was feeling at that time. But I know one thing for sure, that out hearts were beating abnormally. Finally nurse smiled and we took some breath.

After observation Doctor advised immediate operation. Operation was expected earlier because of known complications with Shweta but the word IMMEDIATE was little shocking. Immediate? Much before due date? Well no other option.

I was not prepared. Lot of thoughts and suggestions started appearing into my mind. I recalled Atul’s suggestion, to keep some clothes, camera etc in a bag in advance which I never did. I had to arrange all these things in few minutes. I drove quickly to my house, picked up some essentials that came into my mind along with camera. My mausi (maternal aunty) asked me for some breakfast. I took some. And then Shweta called me, “I am going into operation theater”

I hurriedly entered the area near operation theater thinking and cursing of being late. There was pin drop silence. One nurse and one sweeper were moving around. One day before in a ward near to operation theater twins born. And I thought its my turn to get get my baby. In few minutes from then, I heard a voice, a baby voice, crying in full. ‘Is it mine? ..It could be one of the twins in near ward..could be mine as well..’. Then the sweeper appeared for her regular activity who is not supposed to give such good news but I could not control my curiosity and I  asked, “who’s crying?”. Well the answer was something which both of us, Shweta and me, waited for long.  “Your baby” she said with a congratulatory smile without mentioning the gender of my baby. She was born. And I was born as well as father. Then nurse in operation theater called me to come inside.

Dr Gokhle is a child specialist. I never met him before. Hospital arranges such specialist at the time of delivery of baby. He introduced me to my baby, a baby girl. Prisha (Prisha is named later), was in a typical shape of new born, crying in full when nurse was cleaning her body with cotton. A delighted feeling with a little concern of how she must be doing while coping with new world. Then nurse gave one small injection to the baby that time I actually realized what fullest cry mean for a baby just born. Before I could see, touch or feel my baby in my hand, doctor bombed me by saying “Baby s slightly underweight, we need to keep her in NICU for a min of 2 days”

That was the time when first pick my baby in my own hands. And soon she was in NICU when I took her first photographs. 1

About


Prisha is my angel came in my life beginning of this year.

This blog is Shweta’s idea. We are experiencing new world, new feelings and altogether new experience.

This blog is Prisha’s, her activities, her fun and about all her first experiences, so ours.

Last Man Standing


I was enjoying Ranjan’s brand new Armada Grand  on Grand Trunk road while going from Aurangabad (Bihar) to Sasaram during early monsoon  in year 2000. Ranjan, one of my dealers in south-west Bihar, was on the driver seat. G T Road is busy for more than four centuries now. It becomes even busier in Bihar due to terrific road conditions. Some parts of the road were in pathetic condition and so accumulated huge traffic. We were near Sone Bridge, one of the longest of its time over Sone River, and waiting for our turn to move. Sides of road were filled with new clay in a process of widening before monsoon. But this time with some rain, it was more like a deceiving mud which was looking like a flat and hard surface. We soon realized it when tried to reach an approach road towards a village to avoid traffic. Our vehicle drifted, skidded when tried to stop, and started slipping in an attempt of undoing what we just did. In few seconds we were off the road.

Sometimes I feel that no option is the best option. We looked at each other, and in sync of thought, decided to go towards village and then to see old bridge on Sone River, part of G T Road then, build by Sher Shah Suri in 16th century. Good we decided so; otherwise I would have missed a lifetime opportunity to witness a vanishing Heritage.

Some drive and some walk was enough for us to make it to the place. In low water, at the start of monsoon, the debris of that bridge could be seen. Still standing tall, like waiting for us to tell his story, the time-worn bricks of survivor pillars hosted us.

This is no more a tourist place. No one usually comes except those researching history. Imaging what this entire place had witnessed in history of time; from trade caravan to army troops, change of empires, from monarchy to democracy. This place survived everything but geological changes. Sone River started becoming violent during peak monsoon. That was the time when British decided to build a parallel flyover, taller with more strength.

This is one of the entries from my old diary.