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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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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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WHATSAPP GROUP CHAT

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    So much time they have—In other words a universe of a time. One chat message and there are twenty responses, and then the domino effect starts—for I can’t be left behind, says the egocentric mind. I’m talking about the whatsapp group in our RWA. Where, one gets to feel as if the whole society has become a beehive—infested by a swarm of predatory flies. Thriving on some lethal one-upmanship—where the killing field is the chat box itself. As and when, you flag an issue. The views of members start flooding in instantaneously even when they are variegated. Normally, they display cool courtesy. Occasionally they trade nagging heat and at times they even explode. But there are many fire tenders to keep the situation under control.

    The chat moves at the speed of sound if not light. After all, it houses a powerhouse. Where, most are domain experts, some the last word, few are litterateurs and writers. Not to forget the DJs, digital and security experts, and the event managers. And needless to say that everyone is a Mr know all.

    You are constantly on guard. At the beep of those frequent chat notifications. Irrespective of the fact, whether you’re in office or in the cool confines of your home. There is always an issue at hand. Blown out of proportion by excessive interaction. Where, every member has to make that metaphoric superlative comment—meri kameez tumhare kameez se ziada safed hai. Because you need to be in the circuit to remain relevant. So at least send a thumbs up. The quantum of notifications is so much. That if you wish to read them all. You’ll not have time for anything else. 

    Every minute there is a notification. So it is democracy at its best. Issues could be halka or even routine. But viewpoints need to be weighty with a tinge of metaphysics and farsightedness. Considering the legion of scholastic personalities residing in the society.

    But where will all this lead to. Frankly speaking no one knows. As most are shooting from the hip. But I guess it’s about time to lay-off for some time. To, do something more relevant, soothing and satisfying. And let the society be in the safe hands of too many cooks. Hopefully they won’t spoil the broth.

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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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KULDHARA—JAISALMER: THE HAUNT REMAINS EVEN AFTER CENTURIES

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

    Rajasthan lies on the spread of the Thar Desert. It has some ghost villages that remain almost unpeopled for various reasons.  But only a few have got as much publicity as Bhangarh located in the Alwar district of Rajasthan and Kuldhara located near Jaisalmer. The unique publicity is because of the myths attached to them. So while we were in Jaisalmer it was only natural for us to undertake the sightseeing of Kuldhara.

    Ghostly villages and vicinities often attain our attention. Concurrently, they also unleash our wild imagination to some hair-raising and eerie trepidation. But their character remains subdued when compared to the overwhelming ruins of the arrogant castles and Qilas like the ruins of the Bundi Palace in Rajasthan, or the mighty Roman ruins to name a few. Kuldhara is located in the deep-seated desert region of western Rajasthan. While standing there under the hot blistering sun you might not get to see a single human form till the horizon. In all earnestness, such unspeaking and phantom villages and towns may not utter a complaining word but then they relentlessly semaphore about the enduring trauma that their inhabitants might have undergone and that gives us a chance to peep into their distressing lives.

    Kuldhara simmers in the deep desolate wilderness, about 18 km, southwest of Jaisalmer. And it certainly has a cruel story to narrate. In Kuldhara we came across a young man by the name of Bhairo Sharma. He narrated the aghast happening in an emotional tone and tenor. This was when I reflected after years that there was someone doing justice to the forgotten art of storytelling.

    The story dates back some three hundred years ago. Kuldhara then was a prosperous and well-doing village under the state of Jaisalmer. The inhabitants were a congregation of Paliwal Brahmins. The legend throws up a spine-chilling event. It starts when the devilish eyes of Salim Singh, the all-powerful oppressive and pervert Chief Minister of the state of Jaisalmer fall on the lovely daughter of the village Pradhan and he wishes to marry her by force. He also threatens the entire village with grave consequences, if they do not acquiesce to his wishes.

    The entire clan of Paliwals lived in those 85 villages there. They forthwith held a meeting. In the meeting, it was decided that instead of acceding to the demands of the depraved Chief Minister Salim Singh, the Paliwals would instead abandon their village and homeland. This will save the honour and purity of their daughter from the devilish eyes of the monster. And soon, they all left for good. But before departing they put a powerful curse on Kuldhara that after they leave no one else shall ever be able to settle and prosper in the village. And from that day onwards the village remains unoccupied, barren and totally deserted. The place gives an isolated and godforsaken look. Perhaps, it is similar to the unseen yet imagined faces of the residents of those times, and that too, centuries ago. It is also believed that the people who have attempted to stay there overnight have been haunted by some strange and abnormal occurrences.

   The parallel story that runs and appears to be as plausible as the first one is that Salim Singh, upon, not being obliged by the Paliwals jacked up the taxes to such an extent that it became practically unbearable for the local community to survive in the village.  They, therefore, decided to move to fresh fields. But people are more inclined to believe the first story that has a tinge of both bedevilled lasciviousness and wickedness in it.

    There are also murmurs that the village was abandoned in the early 19th century for reasons such as dwindling water supply and earthquake but the story of Salim Singh holds more credence.

    The dilapidated and tale-telling houses and monuments are now maintained by the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI). One can enter the village only after purchasing a ticket. Thereafter, you drive along the prime street which appears to be the main boulevard of the erstwhile settlement. There, even now, after centuries one feels gloomy and sad for there are mud houses in a row with fallen roofs. And the ruined walls give you a sense of a melancholic past. The entire landscape is dry, dusty and sun stricken. It conveys a blaring message of atrocious human upheavals, even when, the era denoted happiness through righteousness.

    We halted at a location that appeared to be the hub of the ghost village. Close by, there was a house in good upkeep. We entered to see the rooms. They were all well-maintained. Following the path we went upstairs and up to the terrace. From there, the entire hamlet was in sight. I couldn’t feel any supernatural presence there but the chill of sombreness struck me while I was moving around. One could say the animation was missing. The ladies in the group could not withstand the countenance of destruction so they slowly moved away. I could sight an unvisited and left-alone temple nearby. Gradually, we cruised past the pitiable ruins standing there in the form of crumbling walls. For a moment, it conveyed the story of the lives that lived there, centuries ago. There was definitely something spine-chilling even when everything around was so calm and unmoved. Perhaps, the collective curse, of the helpless citizens was still pulsating there. Everything around was looking so recent. And, it felt, as if someone was whispering at you from those dilapidated houses behind.

    Kuldhara remains a sorrowful place with deserted looks. Curses don’t die so soon, they say. The ambience brings a kind of seeping dejection in you. Especially, when, one thinks of those disgraced citizens, who were forced to flee from the land of their ancestors. The place doesn’t appear to be ghostly for any other reason barring the wicked crime spelt in the story.

    Even when the ASI has taken over the settlement, it remains to be seen if this village will ever flourish. By flourish, I mean– will the lineage of the people, who left generations ago, ever return, or come together to salvage the village? And last but not least was this the quintessential example of migration that moved a civilized settlement? My answer would be no. It was time to move on.

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THE LOOK-ALIKE VIDEO OF GURMEHER KAUR—exposes the dark side of Indian mindset

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

 

     The look-alike video of Gurmeher Kaur has been making the rounds of social media for quite a few days now. I too, got a few copies from some of my whatsapp friends. Correspondingly, I too, sent out a few here and there. But, before sending it out, I keenly sat through it a couple of times. Where, I could happily reflect on my jaunty college days, nothing more and nothing less.

    But, as expected within minutes, some of my friends. On receiving the video reacted by saying—the girl I’m trying to troll. Is not the one who is in the video. The social media is only trying to malign Gurmeher Kaur by sending out this video. Which, I definitely don’t deny. But I have another point of view to highlight—towards, all the fracas or whatsaap jostle, as I would like to call it. That some of my friends tried to create about the whole issue.

    While, most of them, reacted to the video in a more conformist and derogatory manner, with of course, sympathies for Gurmeher. Where, they all tried to tell me. The video is indecent and should not be circulated. But, I had a more of a promethean point of view towards the whole issue. Because, I felt in certain ways. It only exposed the primitive mindset of my friends and that too in a glaring manner. As, I, would like to ask them? What was so obscene and vulgar about the video. That I shouldn’t have circulated? And, about which, you made such a brouhaha. If having a couple of drinks in the plush confines of a car with your close friends is an obscenity, so be it? Don’t women drink in India? Isn’t that a reality of our country? So where is the vulgarity in it? Come on, just let India grow up. Had a boy been drinking under the similar circumstances, would you have reacted in the same manner and called the video obscene and vulgar?

    That she was in shorts. So what? Aren’t women entitled to wear shorts in India? Then, she was with some of her male friends. Perhaps, they were her college friends. So, is that a big deal? That she was tipsy and entwining in the car listening to a love song. So what? Is that a crime? Most certainly not and above all, aren’t women supposed to enjoy as men do is the moot question. And by calling the video vulgar, aren’t we even exhibiting a sexual bias towards them?

    The short point that I’m trying to make is. There wasn’t anything vulgar or even obscene in the video. But, because, of our deep-seated dig and reactions. We made it look like it. For, any college child can enjoy in this manner in the company of his or her friends. Whether boy or a girl. We all have behaved like that in our college days. And, for a moment, even if the video was of Gurmeher. I wouldn’t have rated it in anyway vulgar and obscene. To, run her down. But yes, preferably, any man or a girl would have preferred to keep it as a private property.

    Last but not the least the video turned viral only because of the protagonist, who happened to be a girl. So to my friends—you told me not to circulate the video because it was vulgar. But I found no vulgarity in it and that only speaks of your polluted mindset.

    Sadly, I kept waiting for at least one person to tell me. You can circulate the video as there is nothing indecent about it. But I’m still waiting. Perhaps the wait will be much longer than what I had thought. India still has to grow up.

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PHILOSOPHER AND THE MERCHANT’S DOG

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    Once, a rich merchant was crossing a turbulent river in a boat along with his dog.  With him there were some other passengers too, including a philosopher. It appeared the unruly dog of the merchant had never sailed earlier and therefore, it was not feeling at home in the changing surroundings. It was running helter-skelter, and in the process, it was brushing and pushing the passengers all over. The dog obviously was scared and in the process it was not allowing anyone to even sit peacefully.

    So much so, even the oarsmen, were feeling shaky about his movements that had unsettled all the passengers and everyone was somewhat panicky. The, boatman was now beginning to fear about the dog’s rowdy acrobats, that was swaying the boat excessively, where, it could have just overturned. In the process, everyone could have drowned including the mischievous dog.

   But the dog was unfazed and remained in a state of caper and romp. The merchant therefore, was regretting having brought him and was in a state of helplessness. But, he was unable to tame him. In the meantime a passenger who happened to be the philosopher in the boat couldn’t resist.

    He walked up to the merchant and said—‘Sir, if you permit me. In a minute or so I could set your dog right. Upon, hearing this, the merchant was greatly relieved and he gave him the permission forthwith.

    The philosopher with the help of two daring passengers lifted the dog and threw him in the river. Frightened, the dog started squealing on top of his voice and started swimming towards the boat. Soon, it even started pawing the boat fearing his life. The philosopher was watching the dog closely and after a little while he pulled him back. But the dog was now frightened. So he waddled to a corner of the boat and just sat there. The passengers and even the merchant were surprised at this docile behavior of his.

    Merchant too was surprised. He asked the philosopher—‘my dog was earlier caper romping all over the boat. But now he stands tamed, and is just sitting in one corner like a domesticated goat. How come?

     Philosopher said-

    ‘Sir, without experiencing pain, no one can imagine the agony of others. It was only when I threw him in the river. He could understand the might of the river, the utility of the boat and the struggle of the oarsmen.

     This story goes out for those ungrateful Indians. Who stay in India but keep abusing her all the time. They too should be thrown into Pakistan so that they realise the beauty of India.

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Posted 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

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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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CHANAKYA NEETI-1

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SAYS CHANAKYA—1

Vishadapyamritam grahammedhyadapi kanchanam,

Nichadpayutama vidya striratnam dushkuladapi.

If there is nectar in poison, accept it. If there is precious metal or object in filth, retrieve it. If a low bred man has some good knowledge, wisdom, art or quality, imbibe it. If a woman born to a family of disrepute turns out to be a lady of high qualities, possess such a gem.

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Strinaam diguna aaharo budhisatasam chaturguna,

Sahasam shargunam chav kamoastgun uchayate.

Compared to males, the females, eat twice the amount of food, possess cleverness four times, display courage six times and have hunger for sex eight times.

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Aanratam sahasam maya murkhtavmatilubadhata,

Ashochatavam nirdayatam strinam dosha: swabhavjhaha.

Speaking falsehood—starting a work without any due diligence or thought, daredevilry, deceitful behavior, foolish acts, greed, impurity and cruelty. These are things basic to the nature of women.

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Bhojayam bhojanshaktitascha ratishaktivarragna,

Vibhavo danshaktishcha naslapasya tapas: phalam.

Only great penance can earn one: Rich food to eat and a good digestive power to dispose it—A beautiful woman, for a wife and the virility to ravish her—and riches with charitable disposition to use the money for good causes.

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Yasya putro vashiibhooto bharya chandasnugaamini,

Vibhave yashcha santushtsatasya swarg eihev he.

This very earth is heaven for one whose son is obedient. The wife is faithful and whose own heart is content with whatever money he has.

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Te putra yepiturbhakta sa pita yastu poshakah,

Tanmitram yasya vishwasahah: sa bharya yatra nirvrati.

True son is the one who is obedient to his father. A true father is the one who looks after his sons. Similarly, true friend is the one who is trustworthy and true wife is one who makes her husband happy.

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Translated by Kamlesh Tripathi

CHANAKYA NEETI

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SAYS CHANAKYA …

AAPADRTHE DHANAM RAKSHECHACHRIMATAN KUT AAPADAH,

KADACHICHCHALIKA LAXMI: SANCHITOPTI VINASHAYATI.

A man must protect his wealth tooth and nail because, it is only the one who has money can overcome hurdles easily. Money, if not protected slips away fast.

DHANIKAH SROTRIYO RAJA NADI VEDASTU PANCHAM,

PANCH YATRA NA VIDYANTE NA TATRA DIVASAM VASET.

A man should not make that place his home. Where there are no prosperous people, no soldiers, scholarly Brahmins, a competent king, a river and physicians.

YASMAN DESHE SAMMANO NA VARTIRNA CHA BANDHAVA,

NA CHA VIDYASAGAMAH KASHICHAT TAM DESHAM PARIVARJAYATE.

Do not live in a country that does not allow you: self respect, honour, means of living, a family, kith and kin, friends, well wishers, ways of education and self-development. Quit such country. It is not fit for living.

LOKYATRA LAJJA DAKSHNYAM TYAGSHEELTA,

PANCH YATRA NA VIDAYANTE TATRA SANSSTHITITAM.

A place that does not offer means of living, fear of law, feeling of shame for shameless acts, clever people to inspire artful creations, and the spirit of charity is not fit for living.

JANIYAT PRESHNE BHRITYAN BANDHAVAN VYASNAJGAME,

MITRAM CHASPATIKALESHU BHARYA CHA VIBHAVAKSHAYA.

The testing times of the following are: Wife when the money is gone, a friend in the time of need, relatives in times of crisis and the servants when they are assigned a mission. In such times they show their true colours.

AATURE VYASNE PRAPTE DURBHIKSHE SHATRU SANKATE,

RAJDWARE SHAMSHANE CHA YASTISHATHATI SA BANDADHAVA.

A real brother is the one who stands with you in the period of grave illness, in times of misfortune, during famines or invasions by enemy, in the royal court and in death. He will stick through thick and thin.

YO DHRUVANI PARITAYAJAYA ADHRUVAM PARIHEVETE,

DHRUVANI TASYA NASHYANTI ADHRUVAM NASHTAMEV CHA.

The one who runs after an uncertain object leaving the certain one behind, does not get any. He loses both. It is Chanakya’s way of saying that a bird in hand is better than two in the bush.

VARYETA KULJAM PRAGYO VIROOPAMAPI KANYAKAM,

ROOPWARTI NA NICHASYA VIVAH: SADRISHYA KULE.

A wise man must marry a girl of high breed even if she is ugly to look at. He should not fall for a girl of low upbringing no matter how beautiful she is. The best course is to marry in the family of equal status.

NAKHINAM CHA NADINAM CHA SRINGADIRAM SHASTRAPANINAAM,

VISHVASO NEV KARTAVYA: STRISHU RAJKULESHU CHA.

Don’t ever trust: the beasts with claws or sharp horns, rivers, armed persons, women who are famous for their fickle mind and the members of the royal families.

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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)

*****