Tag Archives: tripathi

NAMAMI BRAHMAPUTRA-BIGGEST RIVER FESTIVAL OF INDIA

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

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.  

*

     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.

*

By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

Share if you like it

*

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

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

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

*****

 

 

 

 

 

A day with Dad

Copyright@shravancharitymission

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    May, you rest in peace.

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

*****

        

  

REMEMBERING MY FATHER- THE POWER OF YOGA

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

t1

 

 

Some 32 years ago, on 14th of April I lost my father. He peacefully passed away in his sleep. Since then every morning I pray to God, ‘may he rest in peace.’ I did the same today.

He was an avid lover of Yoga. So, below is verse from Gita that takes you to shunya (emptiness) yet it holds and triggers your mind; and today is quite an appropriate day to convey it to all those who may not have read it.

PRAYANKALE MANSACHLEN BHAKTYA YUKTO YOGBALEN CHAEV

BHRUVORMARDHAYA PRANMAVEHSYA SAMYAKAH SA TAM PARAM PURUSHMUPAITI DIVYAM

It says at the time of death, a person who is able to steady his pran (breath of life) between his eyebrows with the power of yoga, and with a firm mind can devote himself at the feet of the Parmeshwar, (Almighty) he for sure will dissolve in the divinity of the Parmeshwar.

In the verse it is also clarified that during the time of death the person’s mind should be ready and steady to assimilate with the power of God. People who practice yoga regularly, for them it is recommended that they get their pran (breath of life) between their agya-chakra—bhavain (eyebrows). And it is recommended to practice and concentrate on the ‘Shat-Chakras” that refers to the six Chakras in the human body: Muladhara, Svadhishthana, Manipra, Anahata, Vishuddha and Ajna.

But a person who forever is immersed in Krishnabhavnaamrit (the elixir of Lord Krishna) and who is a always a pure devotee of Krishna, with the help of Lord’s blessings and without yoga-abhyas too can reach God but that is only possible through Bhaktiyoga.

In the verse (word) ‘yogbalen’ (power of Yoga) has been used which is of utmost significance because without yoga whether it is shatchakrayog or bhaktiyog—man at the time of death cannot achieve divinity. No one at the time of death can suddenly remember or pray to God. He needs to practise and depend on some form of yoga for this, especially the bhaktiyoga. Because, at the time of death, a person’s mind is extremely restless, and therefore, for assimilating into the divinity at the time of death; he must during his lifetime practice yoga and through yoga he must practice spiritualism as that alone will help him see his end.

*****

 

 

Launch of motivational book: Refractions from the prism of God

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

‘Refractions from the prism of God’ was recently launched in the Lucknow Literary Festival 2016. The book is about a three time cancer-survivor who is young and poor. His name is Suresh and he hails from Tamilnadu and stays in Chennai. In spite of three different forms of cancer Suresh has the gumption of doing PhD in cancer biology and nurtures the dream of eradicating cancer by 2040. Normally one doesn’t like reading about cancer but our readers have appreciated the motivational manner in which this book has been written.

On this milestone occasion we would like to profusely thank Ms Preetha Reddy, Vice Chairperson, Apollo Hospitals Group for endorsing the book; Mrs Poonam Bagai, CEO & Founder of Cankids … kidscan, a pan India NGO for child cancer for blessing the book; and Mr Rahul Yadav founder of Yoddhas, a UNESCO award winning NGO and a cancer support group for hailing the book.

We would also like to thank Cankids … Kidscan and Shravan Charity Mission for publishing the book and Lucknow Literary Festival for launching the book.

The book is available both in e-book and print format. E-book is available in pothi.com and antrik.com while print copies can are available for sale in Variety Book Depot, Connaught Place, New Delhi. You could also write directly to shravancharitymission@gmail.com for a copy.

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES- A BOOK BY KAMLESH TRIPATHI, CO AUTHOR: SUJATA TRIPATHI

51+O4fGLGaL._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-v3-big,TopRight,0,-55_SX324_SY324_PIkin4,BottomRight,1,22_AA346_SH20_OU31_#AADAB #LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES BOOK LAUNCHED IN RECENT- LUCKNOW INTERNATIONAL LITERARY FESTIVAL

E-book available in Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble. Print copies available in Poth.com, Flipkart.

EXCERPTS

‘whatever … whenever … Lucknow is forever.’

‘Aadab-Lucknow … fond memories’ is a story of a group of friends who spend their childhood and part of their adolescence in Lucknow. They part ways for their career and future but the umbilical-cord remains intact and they connect after many years, attempting to relive the city.’

‘What is #Lucknow up to? Smiling, giggling, laughing or weeping. Let’s figure out.’
‘Isn’t Lucknow the world’s showcase of #Hindu-Muslim amity? Do you have any doubts? We have none.’

‘#Imambara-to-see … Evening-in-Ganj-#Hazratganj … Kababs-to-eat …Chikan-to-wear … Attar-for-fragrance … Ikka-buggy-to-roam … Kite-to-fly … Hospitality-by-leaf-Betel-leaf … Sweet-tongue … and the great Lakhnawi pride … after-you-after-you.’

‘Langotia-Gang: A group of ‘Underwear friends’ nay ‘childhood friends’ a metaphorical and peppy expression. The Langotians take you through the intrinsic essence of life.’

‘And post #Kabootar-bazi, dressed in a crisp Achkan, seated on his flashy Ikka, he used to join Rehman for the evening Chai-Nashtaa which he ensured, he never missed after the game. After all … All was fair in love and Kabootar-bazi.’

‘Anyway, guys send me a quick update on, Vakil, Neta, Naukarshah and Abhiyanta … Shahid, IV, Irfan and Savita. Lucknow runs because of these four; business and industry are not there and rest can go to hell.’

‘Other states carry weight as a state, but we carry only some districts as weight.’
‘Mem-sahab, Babuji, kaan laga ke dhyan se suniya Lucknow ka har bachcha kya gaa raha hai.’ (Madam, Sir, listen intently to what every child of Lucknow is singing)

‘Mandar, Masjid, Church the Gurudware da shehar, change shehar Lucknow.’

‘#Awadh shrieks and shrills to the fading countenance of Wajid as she promises to herself to be in command and control of the fond memories of her Mehboob, #Wajid-Ali-Shah.’
SKU-000674302_COVERSKU-000674302_COVER