Category Archives: beautiful lines

Poem: Mother

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

MOTHER

Years don’t distort,

Time doesn’t warp,

Lifetime doesn’t blot,

As mother’s priceless memory,

 Always remains atop.

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Even when I know you’re not there,

Yet there is always something,

 That tells me,

You’re somewhere here and somewhere there,

For my life and for my care.

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In the measure of time,

You carried me up to cloud nine,

Then cradled me with all the rhymes,

You fed me to grind,

And taught me to shine.

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My maiden friend,

The first to comprehend,

My lifelong mentor,

And evergreen centre.

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In the shackles of time

You were always mine,

But when shackles unshackled,

God took you away in no time.

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And since you’ve gone

Life is bereft of umpteen charms,

But the soul connect is still alive,

That revives the vibes

And that’s how life thrives.

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Of all you taught me,

Each virtue is still fresh,

I May have forgotten school,

But you’re still afresh.

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As time passes,

More of it comes along,

Just like your loving memories,

That keeps coming on and on.

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Ma you’ll never fade,

You’ll always shine like the jade,

As long as I live,

And even beyond my days.

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Share if you like it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(Archived in 7 prestigious libraries of the US, including, Harvard University and Library of Congress. It can also be accessed in MIT through Worldcat.org. Besides, it is also available for reading in Libraries and archives of Canada and Cancer Aid and Research Foundation Mumbai)  

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

(Archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2014)

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(Co-published by Cankids–Kidscan, a pan India NGO and Shravan Charity Mission, that works for Child cancer in India. The book is endorsed by Ms Preetha Reddy, MD Apollo Hospitals Group. Book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

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FASCINATING MONSOON

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      An overcast day, makes a lazy weekend that gives an ethereal feel, when you wake up to the light morning drizzle, tip-tap tip-tap. You realise you don’t have to go for work today. But you certainly can take your raincoat and step out, to witness the groovy nature in its mystifying colours, all splashed and splattered for you, so go there and enjoy. Where, the mind feels light, body feels like flying and the senses divine. The combination is indeed rare. Otherwise, there is always so much to do and so much to brood in your routine life.

    I don’t expect to see the holy sun today. Like me he too is on leave. I guess they have a tie-up—the sun and the clouds. When the clouds appear, the sun goes on leave and doesn’t return till clouds leave. Sun might be strong, but today he looks weak, even when he is above the clouds. That reminds me of man. Who too like clouds, tries to block ways of God but is often weather beaten by time … waqt.

    I step out quietly without a sound. Tina is fast asleep. No lunch to be packed, no hurried breakfast to be tabled. Little Khitkhit for a change, is in her own fantasy, and in a hug with her mother. On the verandah one can see a few uncomfortable pigeons, chirping mynas and even a few jumping sparrows, all trying to shrug the rain water off their feathers. The street lights are still lit because of the overcast. They normally fade with sunlight. The first few drops are rejuvenating. It feels like an unusual dawn that’ll refresh you for the entire year. One can’t but miss the few mongrels hiding under the parapet whimpering … as if the agony wasn’t enough that you’ve sent rains.

    The exterior is all wet as one tip toes to find that confident rhythm along the roadside that has become one big puddle. There are no children around. They all are in the cozy lap of the weekend, oblivious of the once in a while, fun zone outside. The surroundings are still, even when the drizzle has now become a downpour. I’m intact beneath my raincoat. Except for the milkman and the newspaper wala no one else is seen around, barring a few devoted morning walkers. Even the society guards are catching up on their forty winks.

    Suddenly one gets to see the lightning followed by the sound of thunder. The nature is freaking out. I go past the wide streets with tall buildings all around that is now beginning to wake up to a wet dawn. The winding brooks that have sprung up all over have only become more loud and tuneful.

    And as I walk along, I can’t help but think. Why is man the biggest adversary of nature when nature has provided so much for mankind?

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

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                                                      https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Share if you like it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

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FASCINATING LINES AND QUOTES

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

 

 

 

 

‘If you don’t read the newspaper, you’re uninformed. If you read the newspaper, you’re misinformed.’—Mark Twain

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‘Man is what his faith is.’—says Krishna

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‘How can you govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?’—Charles De Gaulle

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‘You dream of things as they are and ask, “Why?” I dream of things that never were and ask, “why not?”’—Bernard Shaw

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‘But sometimes the warrior hears older people saying: “when I stop working, I will be free.” A year later, those same people are complaining:  “Life is all boring routine.” In this case freedom is difficult to understand. It means absence of meaning.’—Paulo Coelho

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‘Often it isn’t the mountains ahead that wear you out. It’s the little pebble in your shoe’—Muhammad Ali

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‘There are three methods to gaining wisdom. The first is reflection, which is the highest. The second is limitation, which is the easiest. The third is experience, which is the bitterest.’—Confucius

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There is a song: ‘When the day is dark and dreary and the way is hard to find, don’t let your heart be weary, just keep this thought in mind.’

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‘Study the past if you could divine the future’—Confucius

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‘Past always casts a shadow on the present.’

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‘There is only success and failure and between status quo.’

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‘If you have eight hours to do a job, for six hours sharpen your saw’—Abraham Lincoln

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‘In the art of conveying don’t mis-convey.’

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‘He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot, will be victorious’—Sun Tzu

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‘When you remember someone, that someone also remembers you.’

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

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Share if you like it

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

 

POEM: THE SUM TOTAL OF LIFE

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

 

The sum total of life was never easy to calculate,

And the equation of existence was never easy to evaluate,

Where, I had rubbed some, and some had rubbed me,

And from this tug of war I could never be free.

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But I remember I was born with a mission,

That had a vision,

It also had a goalpost,

And it also had the foremost.

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But then what went wrong?

That soon after I was born,

My mission changed and vision altered,

Goalpost shifted and I somersaulted.

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Perhaps, in the windings of life,

Attractions were galore,

Where arrogance was available even in a road side store,

And where ego had become the dubious cynosure.

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Slowly, all these had become the handy recipes for success,

Where, show off had become the order of the day,

Humbleness had become the emblem of the frail,

And politeness the solemn disgrace.

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So, to stay the course,

 I deviated from my umbilical holds,

To become that fashionable rogue,

Where, I too, cheated to the fore,

And intimidated others, galore.

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One day I met God while walking on the road,

He asked,

Son! How are you?

I replied,

Who are you?

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He said,

Well I’m God your creator,

I replied,

But you’re quite a traitor,

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In utter disbelief,

He asked why?

I said because you belied,

About the journey of life,

By selling me the futile.

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But how?

Asked God,

I said,

Where, it was arrogance you gave me some great mission,

Where, it was ego you gave me some stupid vision,

And where it was show off you gave me that wide goalpost.

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But all that wasn’t required,

To rise higher,

So I changed my fire,

And with that my sire.

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But son I had sent you to there,

For everyone’s welfare,

But instead of welfare,

You became a malware,

And what will God do,

If it has sons like you?

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That is your problem God,

If men can’t do what you want them to do,

Go create some other species,

That will help you chase,

Your mandate that is not easy.

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Hold on my son,

Don’t throw such a referendum,

Life for you has just begun,

So, let me give you an ultimatum.

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Mend your ways,

And return,

To those humble and noble sways,

For you have no idea,

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Of the sum total of those stormy waves,

That will only strike you,

When you’re at the twilight of your days,

And that will be too late.

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In pursuit of wild success man has imbibed arrogance, ego and show-off leaving behind those splendid virtues of a simple lifestyle. And it is only by practice of simple habits the sum total of your life will move towards the positive side.

***

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

Share if you like it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

 

NAMAMI BRAHMAPUTRA-BIGGEST RIVER FESTIVAL OF INDIA

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THEME SONG

… Namami Brahmaputra,

Kabhi shaant bahe kabhi rudra,

Pal pal mein ek naya chitra,

O Zindagi ke sakha

Yu he behna,

Dur hai shristi,

Brahma tere pita  …

    When the end gets nearer, life gets dearer, childhood comes closer and memories get thirstier. The song brings about wild nostalgia and takes me back in time, some 45 to 50 years when I used to sojourn in Guwahati circuit house, located near the High Court, on the banks of mighty Brahmaputra while driving down from Shillong, then capital of Assam, on my way to Kolkatta with my Parents. So, one can’t help but reminisce those wonderful times after hearing this beautiful song cranked by Mr Bachchan. I was very young then …

    I had not seen the mighty sea, but yes I was seeing the powerful Brahmputra in its shaant and rudra expanse as the song goes. The view from the circuit house was just tantalizing. Each morning as I woke up, I used to rush to the lawns and thereafter run to the railings that divided the circuit house from the long and wide embankment of the river.  As the sun rose, one could see herds of cattle flocking around the shore for water and pasture and their herdsmen, with their long crooks on their shoulders singing those folksongs, perhaps to please the rising sun. A few bare feet—bare chested Deswali milkmen too, passed my sight with their soiled dhotis tied around their slender waist. Generally in conversation, trying to describe the might of the river, while comparing it with the humble brooks in their distant village in faraway states.

    Even, when, it was hazy. From the embankment one could get a vivid view of the lush green Uma-Nandi islet, located in the centre of the river. It had tall trees and a few boats anchored around. From a distance, it appeared as a humble abode for some rural families involved in small time farming. Where, one could distinctly hear, calls of languri bandars (monkeys) coming from there, that could be heard right up to the rooms of the circuit house. The fierce flow of the river made that rhythmic splash at regular intervals, when it hit the shore, while it kept under wraps, its strong undercurrents. Something, that we humans also need to learn. To keep our raucous mood swings under check.

    All around there were hills and hillocks some tall and some not so tall. At a distance one could see a flurry of dinghies and even a couple of ferries carrying people across. By now the sun had arched up and its mirror image could be seen in the river water. The entire panorama is still so fresh in my mind as if it was captured by some high pixel camera about half a century ago.

    I jumped the railings to be on the other side of the circuit house that gave me a feel as if I had touched the river. But the flow of water was still at a distance. From here it looked blue and foamy. I walked the distance and up to the shore without anyone noticing me. Where, I dipped my hands to finally touch Brahmaputra. He was cold. Yet he was the biggest warmth around, for the civilisation. The passing herdsman yelled at me to get back, as the river had strong undercurrents. Meanwhile, his carefree children raced across to me. They appeared ace swimmers. The elder one jumped into the river and swam for a while. The others pointed their fingers towards the circuit house. ‘Yes I’m from there.’ I said. They clapped and asked for some money to buy ‘chanajor garam’ early in the morning. They were four so I gave them eight annas. And they immediately ran away, thinking, I might ask them to return the money as there was no one selling chanajor early in the morning. But soon I saw them at a close by tea stall.

    I waved and they waved back. Soon I was immersed in my own thoughts. Why are some places so beautiful and some so ugly? Why can’t fishes be out water and live with me? Why can’t I walk through the water and go to Uma-Nandi to see those langurs? Why do I need to always do, what others tell me, and not what I want to do?

    Suddenly, I could hear the voice of my Dad’s office boy. He was darting at me, finding me alone and that too on the banks of such a powerful river. The serene and enchanting morning was thus over but it had left a mark in me. I wish I could carry the mighty Brahmaputra with me in my pocket was the last thought.  

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     Namami Brahmaputra is the biggest river festival of India. It was organized across 21 districts in Assam from March 31-April 4, 2017. Brahmaputra is the only male river by name in India and the fifth most powerful river of the world with very strong undercurrents.

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

Share if you like it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

 

 

 

 

STONE PELTERS IN KASHMIR VALLEY

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Few lines on Kashmir Valley that is undergoing the worst of turmoils

“Gar firdaus, ruhe zamin ast, hamin asto, hamin asto, hamin ast”,

Which, translates to

“If there is ever a heaven on earth, it’s here, it’s here in Kashmir.”

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What should have been the valley of smiles,

Has turned into a stone pelters den,

A misguided nuisance,

Not in the interest of anyone.

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When Kashmir bleeds,

Separatists are relieved,

But when there is serene,

Separatists feel the demean.

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From valley to the mountains,

From lakes to the rivers,

From tourism to winter sports,

You have a whole lot of things.

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Nesting in between,

Korakoram and Zanskar,

Pir Panjal and Himalyas,

And in and around,

 Hazratbal, Mata and Amarnath,

You have so much to pride and revere.

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So, in those blessed and scenic surroundings,

What made you pick up stones?

What made you devastate your own home?

And what made you surrender to those rogues?

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What makes you feel India is not your own,

And Pakistan is your home,

The grass is not greener on other side,

Take it from someone who is known.

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Use the stones to build the valley,

Use the stones to preserve the valley,

Use the stones to kill the enemy,.

Use the stones to rip the separatist.

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India is your home,

Where you’ve grown,

So leave Pakistan alone,

And fight for your country’s throne.

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

Share if you like it

*

Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

(CAN BE BOUGHT FROM ON LINE BOOK STORES OR WRITE TO US FOR COPIES)

*****

 

A day with Dad

Copyright@shravancharitymission

    I knew for sure. This ever changing world around me will only change further. But I just didn’t know how much. Ever since you left us on this very day many years ago. I have stayed away from Lucknow. And after many years I’m home around this time. Thinking, I would sight the changing times myself. So, on this serene and dismal morning I went out for a morning walk. Pursuing, quite the same route. That, you once frequented. And it gave me a feel as if I was following the same trail that you had left behind.

     To be frank. I wasn’t surprised when I saw. The old surroundings had really sprung up to the hilt, leaving no niche for that stilly calm. The flow of river Gomti has receded and it isn’t what it used to be in your times. It has thinned down. Like the plait of an ageing lady. The chirping Gauraiyas are nowhere to be seen. And no one knows where they have gone. Did you see them by any chance? Did they come to you? Meanwhile some Gods have grown in stature but some remained where they were. The temple of Hanuman Setu has exalted both in pomp and spirits, just like you. But the small Shivalaya near the banks has only greyed. It still emanates of that salt and pepper looks. The overarching, Banyan tree there, has spread all around the Shivalay. As if, protecting, the God of the poor, residing in it. That reminded me of the days when you protected all of us.

     The chauraha has become quite psychedelic as everything out there has changed. The famous samosawalla—Phullu who had his makeshift shop in the middle of it is nowhere to be seen—the samosas are there but the walla has changed. No one knows where he has gone. Some say he is no more. One, Good Samaritan has converted her home into an institution. I wish. Many were like her.

     The chauraha gossips are no more vociferous. The morning newspapers have swapped positions and with that even the feel. From Swatantra Bharat it is now Dainik Jagran and some others. What has grossly depleted over the years is ‘time.’ People don’t have time but enough to whine. Where, morals have declined.

    Even in the faint trickle and rustle of the holy river. I could hardly hear the serenading calls of those joyous koel in the colourful months of spring. That used to be so piercing earlier. It has now been overtaken by the roar of the swarming vehicles thriving on the embankment. That sadly pollutes the vicinity, all along the scorching day. Lots of people walk up to the newly resurrected Mandirs, Ashrams and even a Masjid nearby for peace of mind. Perhaps, someday, their temples within, shall also kindle to the call of the Almighty.

    Most bright children in and around have left for good. I now only find their parents whiling away their time in obsolescence. Is when, I wonder what I got from you and what I gave to my child. If the equations are not comforting peace shall always elude me.

    So much has changed over the years. Yet a few things haven’t changed. Just as, the day and night take their turn. The sun still rises and the rain comes when it has to come. Seasons too, alternate when they have to. But more importantly the chord we struck during our lives will never ever change.

    What I continue to learn from you is, pillars should not change. But they should allow  the change.

    May, you rest in peace.

    By Kamlesh Tripathi: Homage to Babuji (K.P. Tripathi). He left us this day in 1984.

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