Category Archives: column

THE ALLURING WORLD OF EARLY MORNING

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    Each morning as I go and sit along the free flowing river under the old Banyan tree I get this tranquil feel of how little it takes for a man to smile. But the situation reverses when I reach my workplace, where, even a smirk is a task.

    The water is cold, just as cold as the human beings of today even when the globe is warming up. One can now see the redness in the sky announcing the arrival of the sun that is duty bound to give me light and energy. He is my old friend who comes to meet me daily in the morning, barring those cloudy days. A Few patches of dark clouds, semaphore from the sky about the arriving rain, realizing water on earth is only getting scarce. The birds around, up-tempo their melodious chorus, before the blasting car horns, beat their retreat.

    The river has a long journey to undertake. It has to meet the sea. Post which it’ll lose its identity. Yet it is calm barring the routine splashes that hit the shores. The embankment is still and unmoved with some stray dogs yawning and stretching. Early risers, for a longer and healthier life, are out for their morning walks, and even jogs. There is harmonious silence all around when you can hear the nature talking to you. It is my time to drench in her and her time to drench in me. Some birds, in formation, appearing like arrows in the sky, about twenty in number are crossing the river. No one knows where they are coming from and where they are heading to. They appear to be in a great hurry. Nevertheless, they are giving an excellent fly-past, reminding you of the Republic-day-Parade. One can distinctly hear their calls but can’t make out what they are saying. Perhaps, discussing about, human atrocities.

    Many things in my life have gone stale. But not this daily setting. Where, I come and perch everyday as it unshackles me from the enduring shackles of life for some memorable moments. Otherwise, there is always so much to worry, so little to rejoice, so much to plan and all the more to execute. But for the present everything is set aside as it is my divine time. That refreshes me to take on the grueling day.

    Slowly, I start walking back as the sun begins to tower up.  Morning and the remaining day are two different worlds. And only the ones who have experienced it, know about it.

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

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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

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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

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‘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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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

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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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Lesson from the Eagle’s nest

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     The eagle finds the tallest tree or the highest mountain ledge to build its nest. It lays the first layer of the nest with sharp objects such as thorns and stones. Next it covers the layer of sharp objects, with soft material such as wood, feathers and animal fur. As the baby birds hatch, the soft layer of the nest surrounds them. After they grow a bit, the mother eagle takes the nest material and mixes it up. The jumbled mass becomes a mixture of sharp objects and soft ones. Some of the sharp edges even cut the baby bird’s skin. Soon, the mother stops putting food from her mouth into babies’ mouth. Suddenly their comfortable world becomes painful. And this she does to prepare them to fight the world.

    Eagle teaches us a great lesson as far as upbringing of children is concerned. Where, our first duty is to make our children capable and street smart so that they can fight the uncertainties of life with ease.

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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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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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

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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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NGO ACTIVITY ON 29TH MAY, 2017

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NGO ACTIVITY on 29th May, 2017

    

    On 29th May your NGO was in Apollo Hospital, New Delhi yet again to meet some brave hearts. It is believed children have a more positive attitude when it comes to fighting life threatening diseases—‘Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference—Winston Churchill.’

        One cannot help but praise profusely these children and their parents for taking up this tough fight against cancer. This time we could not interact with them as they were too young and in their mother’s lap. Perhaps, they didn’t even know what has struck them. We handed over our contribution to the parents of these children while wishing them the very best. We are more than sure soon they would be up and about.

    Let me briefly take you through these children:

  1. Master Hardik Dangi, age 2 years. He is the son of Mr Jagdish Singh Dangi, who is a fireman and hails from Dattiya in M.P. The child is suffering from ALL (Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia) which is a life threatening and has been in the hospital for the last 25 days and the treatment is likely to cost around ten lacs. (Patient details: In ICU, Uhid: APD1.0010736038, Patient IP No: DELIP 15809).

  1. Master Rudra Bansal, age 11 months. He is the son of Mr Sumit Kumar Bansal who is self employed and hails from The child is suffering from ALL (Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia) a life threatening aliment and has been in the hospital for over a month and the treatment is likely to cost around 8-10 lakhs. (Patient details 5th floor T2 Ward, Uhid: APD1.0010733599, Patient IP No: DELIP 15716).

    3.  Baby Dhaniya, age 10 months. She is the daughter of Mr Saurabh Rajawat a primary teacher in a private school near Nagina Chowk, Dhampur. The child is suffering from Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia again a life threatening disease and has been in the hospital since three days and the treatment is going to cost around 7-8 lakhs. (Patient details 5th floor T2 ward, Uhid no: APD1.0010728288, Patient IP No: DELIP 16023).

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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

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Read … Gloom behind the Smile  & Refractions … from the Prism of God … books that describe the fight of cancer patients.

THE POWER OF NATURE

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 Each morning as I walk up to the flowing rivulet near the steep hillock that lies above my picturesque hamlet I get to feel the power of silence. Looks like everything around is trying to say something by remaining quiet. My steps take to the natural rhythm … on my way up. It gives me a supernatural feel as if the hillock is the insurmountable head of Shiva, and the flora and fauna around are his deep rooted jatas and the rivulet is the humble adornment of Namami Gange. Where, both are in a stance to bless me. Perhaps, they are also saying something when you distinctly hear the dribble upstream.

    Everything around is so very still. Is when, you get to feel, silence is the loudest explosion on earth. Very faintly at a distance you can now hear the horn of passing car that was not there earlier. Man has made mechanical inroads to most hideouts of nature. There is a chirping shemozzle that sounds like music in the bird’s camp that is only ratcheting up as the dawn is broadening. Some of them really don’t know what to do except for fluttering here and fluttering there for want of food. Few mongrels have just got up as the morning rays strike their eyes when they start stretching themselves. The flying butterflies as if have started a troupe dance to honour the morning rays of the sun. And one can indistinctly hear the mooing of the cows from the barn that only tells you that the village has woken up to the day.

    I halt to catch my breath is when I turn back. The hamlet looks much smaller than its actual size. Sights at times change even when reality doesn’t. I continue with my walk. There are no human beings here so there is no ruckus. I’m all by myself. This is how I came and this is how I’ll go … all alone.

    I leisurely reach the top from where I get the divine view of my beloved village down below. I wonder what it must have taken Almighty to create this wonderful settlement. Perhaps, even exotic creations are a small thing for him. There is a sudden drift in the direction of the breeze that only tells me to accept the ensuing change. There is no reason to feel lonely. For there is enough in the nature to give you company when there is no human company around you. But you need to explore it.

    And like every day, I sit there for some time, interacting, with my mother of all times, that is … mother earth. This is where she caresses me. The intensity of which is equivalent to the intensity of the aromatic breeze that touches me all over. The shrill calls of some mynahs that have just landed there, give me a feel as if she’s trying to say you are not alone and I’m there for you. I feel rejuvenated. But it is time to head home now. So, I start the descent back. Where, on the way I come across a few goats and some cows as if giving me a standing ovation to my victory over loneliness. Is when I start humming the evergreen song of Kishore da … ‘Zindagi ka safar, hai ya kaisa safar, koi samjha nahi koi jana nahi.’

   (In today’s day and age loneliness is a huge social problem. It is not always possible for parents to be with their children and for children to be with their parents. But you still need to live it out, and live it out well. So move out of your loneliness by exploring the nature. For it has a cure for every life situation).

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases especially cancer. Our posts are meant for our readers that includes both children and adults and it has a huge variety in terms of content. We also accept donations for our mission. 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

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Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

(The book is about a young cancer patient. Now 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

(Is a book on ‘singlehood’ about a Delhi girl now archived in Connemara Library, Chennai and Delhi Public Library, GOI, Ministry of Culture, Delhi)

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

(Is a fiction written around the great city of Nawabs—Lucknow. It describes Lucknow in great detail and also talks about its Hindu-Muslim amity. That happens to be its undying characteristic. The book was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival of 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. It was launched in Lucknow International Literary Festival 2016)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

(Is a story of an Indian salesman who is, humbly qualified. Yet he fights his ways through unceasing uncertainties to reach the top. A good read not only for salesmen. The book was launched on 10th February, 2018 in Gorakhpur Lit-Fest. Now available in Amazon, Flipkart and Onlinegatha

(ALL THE ABOVE TITLES ARE AVAILABLE FOR SALE IN AMAZON, FLIPKART AND OTHER ONLINE STORES OR YOU COULD EVEN WRITE TO US FOR A COPY)

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‘GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE’ FINDS ITS WAY INTO US LIBRARIES INCLUDING HARVARD

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First published in 2011

    It gives me great satisfaction to share the fact that my book ‘GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE’ has got entry into many prestigious libraries of the US including HCL technical services, Harvard College Library; Library of Congress, Washington DC and can also be accessed in the library of MIT, Massachusetts through worldcat.org. It is also available for reading in the University of Washington libraries—Seattle WA 98195 United States; University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, MN-55455 US; Library of University of Chicago; University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, NC 27514 United States and Yale University Library, New Haven, CT 06520 US.

    I began writing this book immediately after the untimely and tragic death of my son Shravan, as everything was fresh in my mind then. He had staged a long and valiant fight against Brain Cancer. But then he sadly succumbed to it leaving us all high and dry. He developed cancer, when he was just two-and-a-half. I was then thirty eight. The battle continued for 14 years and during that period he underwent as many as eight surgeries and a whole gamut of treatment that comprised of chemotherapy, radiotherapy and what not. My biggest challenge then was to keep a very fine balance between my career and my emotions. And of course keep myself solvent enough to meet the high cost of treatment. Further, as luck would have it, my wife in the process had to give up her career, as she was 24×7 required to look after the boy. Those days, I used to get a feel as if my entire life was in a deep muddle. Where, emotions had no place as that would have pulled me down on my performance. On the other hand outstanding performance would have earned me more incentives and salary and that in turn would have helped us in his treatment. So the whole thing was like a lethal chakravyuh that could have given anyone jitters.

    In this tough stranglehold of time, me and my wife spent some fourteen precious years of our lives. In that duration I grew from thirty eight to fifty two, when he finally expired. Those were the toughest years of my life. The idea of scribbling down this page, is to go down the memory lane and express my deep gratitude once again to each of those Good Samaritans who came into our lives around that period time to take us through that very difficult decade and a half, even when their names are mentioned in the acknowledgment page of the book I would like to thank them once again. Because in such adversities it is indeed the collective bench strength of all your well wishers that pulls you through the upstream.

    The book was intended to describe the grueling fight, our family had to undertake, in the India of those times to fight the dreaded disorder. And it also intended to convey, what it took, to see through 14 years of intense cancer, by an infant patient, who saw it through and through till he succumbed when he was sweet sixteen. It also detailed the issue of how noble companies fought for such causes for their devoted employees, especially, when Shravan’s medical insurance was not there, since he was just two and a half when he was diagnosed of cancer, clearly our fault. I’m sure the book has achieve the purpose for which it was written and most certainly it must have passed through many enlightened minds across the globe. Who, in turn will put their might together into this long standing challenge of cancer, for the world to benefit. 

    Here, I would also like to profusely thank all those, who helped me in bringing, this book to light. Where, I can’t forget my elder brother Ajit and his wife Aolla, my son Kartik, my colleague Bipin Bihari, Mr Vijay Sharma and my publisher Kaushal Goyal and of course my wife Sujata. For those of who haven’t read it. The book is not at all scary. On the contrary it will pep you up and make you realise there is always a way out in every situation.  

    The first publication was done by Shravan Charity Mission followed by Pigeon Books. For print copies kindly contact Pigeon books website and for e-book antrik.com. (In antrik.com after entering home page go to categories than biography/autobiography where you’ll find the book.

    The details of its cataloging in various libraries is given below:

(http://hollisclassic.harvard.edu/)  (this is the harvard link. Kindly write ‘gloom behind the smile’ in the search column that will take you to web page where the name of the book and other details are mentioned.

  1. HCL TECHNICAL SERVICES, Harvard College Library, Cambridge, MA 02139 United States vide storage noumber RC 265.6.S68 T75 2011 at Widener offsite storage Hollis number: 012926119.
  2. UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON LIBRARIES-SEATTLE, WA 98195, USA- Available at Suzallo & Allen Libraries- stacks (call number- RC 265.6.S57 T75 2011)
  3. UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA, MINNEAPOLIS, MN-55455, USA- available at TC Wilson library Ames (RC 265.6.S68 T75 2011
  4. UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO: http://pi.lib.uchicago.edu/1001/cat/bib/8457173 
  5. UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA at Chapel Hill, NC 27514 USA, Davis Library 8th floor, RC.265.6.S68T752011
  6. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Washington (biggest library of the world) DC 20540, USA, RC 265.6.T76 2011
  7. YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, NEW HAVEN, CT 06520, USA- call no RC.265.6.T76x2011(LC)
  8. MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY, CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, USA- The book can be accessed through Worldcat.org

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)

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Continue reading ‘GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE’ FINDS ITS WAY INTO US LIBRARIES INCLUDING HARVARD →

DOORIYAN

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DISTANCE-DOORIYAN

        

       The sneaking distance … dooriyan had germinated long ago. But it had begun to flower only now. I wasn’t aware of it nor was my God. And there weren’t any signs of it either. Not even a whoosh of an air. Even when the roots beneath may have been screaming about it, for a long time now. In the hope of a bright future perhaps, the venom was held back, for far too long. So, on the face of it there wasn’t even a chisel of hate but no one knew what was brewing inside.

    He had parted long ago. Shama then, was young. And what followed was a serpentine struggle, all the way to get her children up to the root and wings in the hurricane of life. Affluence had eluded her and miseries had surrounded her. Where, I had sneaked in as her isthmus between the devil and the deep blue sea that is the horrid present and the unseen and unknown future. She kept accepting in warm grace, things I was doing for her and feigned happiness all the while in return. But the tempest was only building in her. Perhaps, she was angry with her own destiny and the person who had written it but she couldn’t have challenged him. The damning offshoots of which, she had even passed it on to her children for the final onslaught that was still to come.

    Uneasy years had flown by and her challenges had somewhat leveled. Life was beginning to smile at her again as she had almost passed the upstream. But hatred is the steepest upstream they say. And all throughout her overwhelming jinx I thought I was her steersman but she had carved me as the conman.

    For all the unpleasant things that had ripped her life, she now wanted a villain to blame squarely and that was me. Perhaps, she was blindfolded when she encountered destiny and later thought it was just another me. She delighted in praising select others for all the good things that had happened in her life and for the incorrigible turmoil and shaky vicissitudes it was me. She walked around with upbraided vanity claiming all the ancestry as she gradually passed the lethal baton to her restless children who were breathing fire.

    Time had flown in an unsurprising gush. There were murmurs one day that the villain too had parted or was he done away with. No one knew. But there were smiles and the wicked smiles all around. She had sighed in ecstasy after an eon. It was all bright and beautiful around her. As, she, had finally attained complete, unquestionable ancestry. The villain had finally gone.

    Ceremoniously her time kept ticking and with that her ambitions kept upgrading until one day Shama saw the first spectre of another villain in her life and this time it was her own grown up child.

posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

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Stone Soup

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         Once upon a time a kind old stranger was walking through the forest when he came across a village. But as he entered the village he saw something very strange. The villagers were scared and started moving towards their homes, and even closing their doors and windows.

    The stranger could not understand this behavior of the villagers. So he smiled and asked, ‘friends how come you all are so frightened of me. I’m just a traveler looking for a safe place to stay and a warm heart for a meal.’

    But the villagers looked at him apprehensively and said, ‘there’s not a bite to eat. The whole province is under famine. As a result we have not eaten and have grown weak and even our children are starving. So you better keep moving on.’

     ‘Oh! You needn’t worry. I have everything I need.’ He said. ‘In fact I was planning to make some stone soup to share with you all.’ And with that he pulled out an iron cauldron from his luggage and filled it with water and began to build a fire under it.

    Then, in a ceremonial fashion he drew an ordinary looking stone from a silken bag and dropped it in the water.

    This spread a rumour about food. When, most villagers came out of their homes or started watching from their windows. As the stranger sniffed the “broth” and started licking his lips in anticipation. Is, when, hunger started overcoming fear in the village. 

    ‘Wow! What a soup!’ said the stranger, ‘I love this tasty stone soup.’ And of course, stone soup with cabbage—is hard to beat.’

    Soon a villager approached hesitantly. He was holding a small cabbage he’d retrieved from his place of hiding and dropped it in the pot.

    ‘Wonderful!’ cried the stranger. ‘You know, I once had stone soup with cabbage and a bit of mutton and believe me the dish was only fit for a king.”

    The village butcher managed to find some mutton and dropped it in the pot. And so the stranger went on and on. When, the villagers one by one dropped potatoes, onions, carrots, mushroom and some other vegetables and lentils until there was a sumptuous meal for everyone in the village to share.

    The villager elder offered the stranger a great deal of money for the magic stone, but he refused to sell it and decided to continue with his travel the next day.

    But as he left, the stranger came upon a group of village children standing near the road. He gave the silken bag containing the stone to the youngest child, while whispering to the group, “It was not the stone, but the villagers that had performed the magic.” 

Moral of the story:  There is no alternative to team work and team spirit.

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     The story is based on Marcia Brown’s 1947 children’s book, Stone Soup 1947

By Kamlesh Tripathi

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A day with Dad

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    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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