Category Archives: spiritual

Happy birthday dear Shravan

Copyright@shravancahritymission

 

Dear Shravan,

Today is your 25th birthday. Sadly, for us it is also the 9th one, without you. I really don’t know where you are. But the spirit of time does tell me you are somewhere here and somewhere there for our care. In our deep loneliness I find your memories still coming to our rescue. The world has changed for us—almost an upside down. Where, the objectives have become hazy but the din of life has only increased. There was a lesson I had derived out of your untimely demise. To, work for poor children suffering from cancer. What you suffered. I now pursue the cause. Ma Prachi and Kartik, all help me in that. It gives us great satisfaction. Down the years I also realized. There are two different worlds for the parents. One, is of those, who have seen their children departing in front of them. The other is of those, that have seen their children flourishing in front of them. The former is very—very painful to accept. I have written two books about cancer patients. Just to, convey to the world. What it takes to fight the dreaded disease and the mental and physical suffering of the patients and their near and dear ones. The books have been well received by the readers.

    My temporal connect with the world has lessened but not my grit. It is said to every birth there is a death for sure. Yet I realized. It is not that easy to accept the departure of your child in front of you. It took a long time for me and Ma to accept life without you. Even today we are not hundred percent of what we used to be. Both of us keep working like mad. We don’t want to sit at home else we’ll go crazy with your fond memories.

    There is one person who calls me each year on the day you expired. He is a Sardar. A granthi in  a Gurudwara in Faridabad. Just a week before you left us and when you were in the hospital, his twenty year old son had expired in front of us in the same hospital. And he knows you expired a week later. So there is divine connect between me and him. The few consoling words that he says are enough to recharge me.

   What else to say. You came and you left. May God bless you and bless us too.

*****

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Share it 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

(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)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

Story of an Indian salesman who is lowly qualified but fights his ways through uncertainities to reach the top. A good read for all salesmen. Now available in Amazon.com

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

*****

 

THE FREEZING WINTER MORNING

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

–When I went for a morning walk–

    It was six in the morning. The weather stood like the halted debacle, likely to come through any moment. It was stormy and close to, pitch dark, numb and of course freezing. Foggy enough to, fog anyone’s senses. Where, the teasing breeze had only intensified the chill. That was now around six degrees—as displayed in my mobile. The streets were still barren. The amber streetlight round the corner was still glowing full bright. It had a sharp halo around it. In the backdrop of which, one could see the improvised screen of the cascading dew. That looked beautiful, yet frightful, to even touch. There weren’t any dogs in sight like in summers, for a change. Nor were there, mild growls, from any of the hidings around.

    By now, I had paced up, my walk. To, beat the chill. When, I could see a few newspaper walas on their bicycles, along with a few, milk boys racing up and down with their milk-carts to be on time. Everyone has a working world of his own. Some call it a career and some even a profession. That God mandates. My walking track, was laid out for the next one hour. Some priests along the roadside temples, had just about woken up their God’s. So they thought. In ten minutes of brisk walking I had reached the embankment of the twining river. It was calm. As if, away, from the tantrums of, the unruly gale.

    I looked back. Knowing well enough, no one was following me. Except for, the chilly wind, that too, in darkness. Though, my mind was in a slouch. Body was feeling energetic. Just then I could figure out. The first ray of the daylight that had breached the horizon to announce the dawn. When, I could hear the chatter of a few birds. And could also see a disheveled crow. Perched, on an electric pole, cawing away to glory. Suddenly I felt animated. A speeding car was now in sight. I’m sure. The driver of which must be feeling like a VIP with no traffic signals telling him to stop.

    Some street urchins were up by now. They were gearing up, for the hard day ahead, with their little knick-knacks. The redness of the sun was now in sight. And had as if, painted the skyline red. But I feared. It might, soon be overshadowed by the sulking winter clouds. The needs of the world are so strange. What one adores in winters is the sun and what one adores in summers is the shade. Conversely what one hates in summers is the sun. And, in the winter, is the shade. Nothing is constant.   Where, only time rules. But then it has strange ways.

    The warmth of the sun was now, in the air. I welcomed it, by opening my arms. As I slowly began with my routine calisthenics while I kept moving. My mind had leapt beyond the freeze for the first time in the morning. For light brightens you up, and light freshens you up.

    I was past the river embankment, by now. It had flowed all night. It never stops, like time. By now I was more than my, half way mark. Stray thoughts were now, all over me. But, superseding all of that was, the thought of work. Till you’re alive there will be work to do. It will never leave you. So continue doing something or the other, even if you don’t have enough to do.

    For life is all about karma and without karma there is no life. And it was about time to kick-off the day.

*****

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Share it 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

(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)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

Story of an Indian salesman who is lowly qualified but fights his ways through uncertainities to reach the top. A good read for all salesmen. Now available in Amazon.com

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

*****

   

HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM THE GOLF COURSE

Copyright@shravancharitymission

     I thought of locking the year with a few rounds of golf. So I played nine holes today. Shall continue with it, even tomorrow, and even day after, and positively on the 1st day of, 2018. They say what you do on the last day of the year, continues with you in the ensuing year. And what you do on the first day of the New Year remains with you throughout the year. Golf certainly is my vaunted lifeline.

     It was a wonderful experience in some months. When, you happened to be in the golf course, on a cold winter morning. That too, when, the visibility was poor. And where, the morning sun was as if, heckled by those seasonal miscreants, while it was is on its way up. To, greet the golfers.

    Of course it was a dare to reach the club early in the morning. As you don’t feel like leaving the warm bed in the accompaniment of the soft quilt. It was a frigid and shivering start, at hole number one. Climaxing, to a warm and cozy end, at hole number nine. The entire flora including the carpet of grass was covered with dew. On which the foot marks of the golfers were clearly visible. Perhaps, if you had seen their soles, you would have known who all were ahead of you. Even the bounce of the golf ball had left an impression on the gleaming blade of the grass, followed by its long roll all along the carpet that was noticeable to the eyes even from a distance. In all of this one could but feel the change setting in. That is the advent of the New Year.

    As we go from 17 to 18 one wonders how the year was spent. So it is time to introspect, over the year. What satisfied you …. What demeaned you? And what remained as a routine. Turn of the year is a big leveler. Where, one can start afresh, with hitherto, unaccomplished missions. I’m sure you’ve thought enough about it. So act now. For life is short. So do what you wish to do and do it now. Says the famous proverb—‘time and tide wait for none.’ 

………………………… have a great 2018

 

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

Share it 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

(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)

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

Story of an Indian salesman who is lowly qualified but fights his ways through uncertainities to reach the top. A good read for all salesmen. Now available in Amazon.com

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

*****

 

CONSCIENCE & CONFESSION

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

    It reminds me of a time when I used to go to a park every day, early in the morning. The place was still and quiet—reminding you of those famous words—pin drop silence. It was a long morning walk, from where I stayed and it was also mid-way for me. Where, I use to take a break. The park was located about twenty feet, above the banks of a river and in between the two there was a steep slope. To, secure the area from anyone, falling into the river. A rugged railing had been raised only recently. The other end of the park touched the busy road. Coming all the way from the airport and passing into the main city. Beyond the river, there was a tall dark and handsome hillock that gave a great sense of scenic fulfillment.

    All around, it was lush green, especially, during the monsoons. When, the water level at times used to rise and ripple past the edge of the gradient to enter the park. I normally sat there each day for about ten to fifteen minutes. Just for some meditation and introspection that refreshed me to take on the tough day ahead. I had relocated to the city some six months back as an Inspector in the police department. Out there. I also found many health freaks coming for morning walks but some just to lollygag.

    Close to the main gate of the park. There was a small tea stall. I guess. It grossed all its major revenues early in the morning itself while serving the morning walkers.  Once in a while it also served hot pakodas that tasted deadly, with that hot dhaba tea.

    I had become a little pally with the tea stall owner who was young and appeared somewhat educated. There was always a newspaper lying around the stall. Where, tea buffs often rushed through the headlines and exchanged informal barbs.

    As a regular visitor I had started recognizing quite a few faces. Gradually, I even got to know the names of some. One out of them happened to be an old person. About whom I noticed, was normally quiet. One day the stall owner. Who knew, I was a police inspector, introduced me to him. His name was Robert.

    In a matter of days I started interacting with him and referred to him as ‘uncle.’ He must have been around seventy. He spoke very less. But whenever he did, he was to the point. He was normally in his own world and nothing amused him.

    Days passed. When, one day he came up to me and asked,

     ‘Are you in the police?’

    I said, ‘yes.’

    ‘Then, can you do me a favour?’

     I said, ‘what favour?’ He looked at me for a while and said.

    ‘Many years back when I was young. While playing in this park I had a fight with my best friend and that escalated. As a result of which I pushed him down the slope over there. He fell into the river. It was monsoon season. When, the river was in full spate and he was swept away, and never returned.’

    ‘So then did you not tell the police, that you had pushed him?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘But why?’

    ‘Because I was scared I’ll be arrested. So the police registered a case of accident, that he didn’t know swimming so he drowned.’

    ‘So then, why are you telling me your story now and that too after so many years?’

    ‘After fifty years to be exact. To, clear my guilt or  you could say conscience. Because, you’re in the police and if you want, you can arrest me for the crime.’

    ‘But have you told this to anyone else?’

    ‘No.’

    ‘But why?’

    ‘Because he was my next door neighbour.’

    ‘So how does that matter?’

    ‘It matters, because, years later, I married his sister.’

    ‘But does she know you were the one who pushed his brother?’

    ‘A few years back I did tell her. She couldn’t bear the shock and expired within weeks.’

    ‘And what about your children?’

    ‘I have two sons. Both are in Australia. They don’t know about my crime. But maybe you can tell them after I’m arrested or I’m gone.’ After this he got up, picked his walking stick and started walking. Perhaps, he was heading home.

    After the conversation a couple of days had passed. I had not seen Robert. One day when I reached the tea stall. I was informed by the stall owner that Robert had committed suicide. I was shocked at the news. Perhaps, he was preparing for it mentally when he told me about his act of crime. I attended his funeral where I even got to meet his two sons Richard and Simon.

    Thereafter, I continued with my morning walk as usual. One day when I reached the tea stall. The owner gave me a sealed enveloped that Robert had left for me. I opened it. There was another sealed cover in it with the name and address of Richard in Australia with a request to send it across through a reliable courier. Which I did.

    Robert after losing his wife couldn’t have taken a chance on his sons. But anyhow he wanted to confess about his crime to his children. Which he did after he was gone.

    Moral of the story: Your conscience is the most endurable jury in you.

*****

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

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

(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)

*****

 

 

 

 

POEM: AUTUMN THE KING OF SEASONS

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

POEM: AUTUMN THE KING OF SEASONS

When summer retires,

Monsoon tires,

Autumn arrives,

Before the winter strikes.

*

Is when the summer gets over,

Monsoon gets slower,

Nights become pleasant,

And days a merriment.

*

It’s time for the harvest,

When farmers fill their pockets,

But then the days begin to get shorter,

And the nights longer.

*

Horizon gets hazy,

Daylight gets dimmer,

Sun changes its line,

Is when darkness multiplies.

*

In the art of poetry,

Autumn strikes the chord of melancholy,

When summer is gone,

And winter is on the horizon.

*

Skies turn grey,

Usable daylight, drops by the day,

Where, makeup of the day,

Changes in the wake,

And night broadens its base.

*

It’s time for jumpers,

As the dawns are chilly,

Mornings are foggy,

Days are smoggy,

And nights are wintry.

*

As I step out of my house,

The air is heavy,

The breeze is frisky,

And where the sun is fussy.

*

All along the meadows,

There are long shadows,

But between the shadows,

There are divine hallows.

*

Autumn sounds like winter’s cousin,

No doubt the favourite of my seasons,

That announces the string of festivals,

And with that the celebrations,

So it indeed is,

The king of all seasons.

*

 

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

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

(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).

TYPICAL TALE OF AN INDIAN SALESMAN

Story of an Indian salesman who is lowly qualified but fights his ways through uncertainities to reach the top. A good read for all salesmen. Now available in Amazon.com

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

*****

 

STORY: WHY SHIVA REDUCES KAMDEV TO ASHES–Check, the arrogance in you

Copyright@shravancharitymission

    Powerful asura (demon) Tarkasur, after seeking the blessings of Lord God Shiva (also known as Sadashiv), conquered, all the three lokas (worlds). He then, threw, all the devtas (deities) out of Swarg (heaven) and started ruling the place all by himself. Terrorized, Devtas, then approached Lord Brahma.

    When, Devtas narrated their plight to him. He said, ‘since Tarkasur has been blessed directly, by Lord God Shiva. There is no one else in the cosmos. Who, can intervene in this matter. So, the only person who can kill Tarkasur, is his own avatar (embodiment of God). As and when, he is born.

    ‘But how will that happen?’ asked Devraj Indra. Who was leading the team of Devtas. Replying to Indra, Brahma said.

    ‘If Lord Shiva falls for Girija, (Goddess Parvati) who is anyway in Himachal, where, Shiva is in dhyan (meditation). They can get married, and as a consequence of that, have his avatar. Who will be named, Rudra. He would then be empowered to kill Tarkasur. But this will not be easy. As, Lord Shiva, is beyond any worldly and even, cosmic allurement. So, it’ll not be that easy for Girija to attract him.’

    With the humungous challenge ahead, Devraj Indra suddenly thought of Kamdev (the god of love). And within no time Kamdev appeared with folded hands and said—Prabhu (God) what made you, think of me?

   Indra said, ‘Dear Kamdev. There is a demon by the name of Tarkasur. He is blessed by Lord God Shiva and that makes him invincible. As, no one, can kill him for now. Therefore, he is troubling the whole world. He has also conquered our abode—Swarg (heaven). He can only be killed by God Rudra. Who, happens to be an avatar of Lord Shiva. But he is yet to be born. This is what Lord Brahma has told us. And, Lord Shiva can have Rudra, only if he marries Girija. So, to get Lord Shiva attracted to Girija, is now your job.     Girija, in order to worship and serve Lord Shiva goes to him every day. If they both get married, the wishes of Devtas can be fulfilled—which is, the death, of Tarkasur.’

    After, patiently, listening to Devraj Indra, Kamdev said—‘Rajendra! (Indra) I will surely do this job for the welfare of the Devatas.’ Thereafter, Kamdev with all his paraphernalia reached the spot. Where, Lord Shiva was meditating.

     At the particular place, where, Shiva was sitting in dhyan (meditation), there, Kamdev, used his illusory tricks to arouse his feelings. He made the surroundings, look like, the beautiful erotic spring, where, the birds started chirping in melodious tones. The ambience soon got romantic that did not spare, even the Lord. When, he got the sudden whoosh of Goddess Girija, but nothing beyond that.

    Kamdev used all his five arrows on him. But he was unsuccessful in all his attempts. As, there, was no effect of his arrows on Shiva. After all, who had the power to unsettle Shiva? Most certainly, no one in the universe.

    During that time, Girija with a tray in her hands. Filled with flowers and ingredients, came there, for the puja of Lord Shiva. With her, she also had her friends. And coincidentally, even Lord Shiva, was out of his dhyan at the same time. Kamdev thought, this was the opportunity, and shot his arrow of crush on Shiva and thereafter in continuity. He shot, one arrow after another. This struck Lord Shiva momentarily.

   With that he got attracted to Girija at once.  But soon he realised, something abnormal was happening to him. He questioned—‘what is this! I’m nirvikar (changeless). Yet I’m impacted by this stroke of infatuation. If, as, God I’m affected. What will happen to the average people of the world? It surely, appears to be the job of Kamdev.’ He thought in some regret.

    Sure enough, when he turned to his left, he saw Kamdev standing there with his bow and arrow. He could not control his anger. And with that, all the three lokas started shivering. It appeared, as if, hell is about to swallow the universe. Just then his third eye opened and from that. In great velocity fire oozed out, and that reduced Kamdev to ashes. All the three lokas quaked in fright. Devtas saddened, but Asuras were happy. After Kamdev was dead. Even, Girija returned home with her friends, feeling devastated.

    Kamdev’s wife Rati, upon, seeing, her dead husband, fainted. When she regained consciousness. She started wailing—’Swami!   Why did you go to Shivlok at all, without telling me? What should I do now? Where should I go? All this is a result of the arrogant talk, you often made in Indralok (Indra’s abode). Devtas, have only done bad for me. They sent my husband here. Only to get him reduced, to ashes.’

    Moral of the story: One should know his limits. Kamdev tried to transgress his powers and had to pay the price.

    Later Devtas assembled around Lord Shiva. Shiva asked for the reason. Devtas said, ‘Lord you are antaryami (omniscient) and you know the reason.’ Shiva understood. They had assembled for Kamdev. He clarified—’whatever happened. Happened, because, of Brahma’s shaap (curse), which, can’t be reversed now. But yes. When, Lord Vishnu will take avatar as Krishna. Then Kamdev will be his son. His name will be Pradhuman. A demon by the name of Shambar will pick Pradhuman and throw him in the sea. Rati, Kamdev’s wife, during that time will be residing in the same city. That is Shambar. She will get her husband back, in this city only. Kamdev will kill Shambar and along with his wife, he will come to Krishna.

*

Posted by Kamlesh Tripathi

*

https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

*

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

(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)

*****

 

 

 

TRAFFIC SIGNAL

Copyright@shravancharitymission

    It is office hours. Rush time and in the morning. The traffic is really heavy. Looks, as if, entire India is on the move and with that, India’s GDP too. Perhaps, it’ll go up substantially today. So will the sensex. But the very first few indications on the mobile say. Sensex is wobbling. Just like the morning hour traffic. It’ll settle and shoot up, maybe, after, traffic hours. Say towards the afternoon. Mind, as usual is filled with a lot of clutter, that keeps fogging me. There is always so much to do and so much to improve. But, where do I begin and where do I end.  

    Thank God, boss is not in town, today. O Jesus! … It’s already nine thirty. He might call anytime, on the office land line. Arrey! where is this idiot Ramesh. He still hasn’t given me the data. Without it, how do I prepare the power-point, for boss’s meeting tomorrow? Mobile rings—it’s a call from home. ‘Hello! Just, thought, of reminding you. Don’t forget, to pull out the cash, for Diwali shopping’—that was my evergreen wife. See the trust. The call is over, even without, my saying a word.

    Mobile beeps. There is a whatsapp message. This could be the routine good morning, from Shashi. Arrey what is so good about the morning. It is the same old, Ram kahani. Sala kuch bhi nahi badalta hai is Hindustan mein. Mobile rings again … O—O boss.

    ‘Good morning, sir!’

    ‘Morning Anand, have you got the data from Ramesh?’

    ‘No sir.’

    ‘Speak to him. Drop my name. I need both the data and the power-point first thing, tomorrow morning.’ the call is over.

    Arrey yaar. I forgot to recite hanuman chalisa today. ‘Jai hanuman gyan gun sagar … Mobile rings, yet again. This time it is Ramesh. ‘Arrey yaar when are you giving me that data? Boss called for it just now.’

  ‘I’m carrying it to the office. It’s nothing great. You can’t prove a thing with it.’

   I restart my hanuman chalisa. Suddenly, the traffic light goes green. The car in front refuses to move. But the rear one is honking full blast. It appears, he has a greater stake in India’s prosperity than anyone of us. He tries to prove it, by honking. I’m about to complete my chalisa.

   O God! What is this life? God retorts, ‘this alone is life.’ I put my car in gear. It slides into motion. When, Lord Hanuman says, ‘bye—bye, see you tomorrow. I’ll take the aerial route. As I need to remind others, too, about their Hanuman chalisa. They are ahead of you and on this very road. Even Durga and Mahadev are doing the same. Bhakts are under a lot of work pressure. No time.’ I remember Mom. Dad can be remembered later. I’m starved of time.

    My stomach churns—‘breakfast!!’ I remember its lying on the seat behind. It’ll now have to wait till I reach office.

    I raise the volume. The RJ is once again there. To tell me how exciting life is. She connects with me every morning like a soul mate. Plays a few peppy numbers for me, to, rev up my mood. By the time I reach office I’m all perked up. When, I’m sucked in for the day. And why only the day, it is day after day.

   And that’s life.  

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

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https://kamleshsujata.wordpress.com

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Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

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