Tag Archives: usa

Watch “Book Review: “Ice Station Zebra” by Alistair Maclean (Adapted by the film) | Baat Kitaabon Ki” on YouTube

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

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 especially cancer. 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

(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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BOOK TALK: YAMMY BOY … by Riddhima Bagwe Pednekar

Khidki (Window)

–Read India Initiative–

This is only an attempt to create interest in reading. We may not get time to read all the books in our lifetime. But such reviews, talks and synopsis will at least convey what the book is all about.

We have squeezed the entire book in about ten pages for your assimilation–You require only around half an hour to run through the book.

    One cloudy night when it was all, thundering outside. And appeared as if it was going to rain, when, it actually wasn’t. Just around then, somewhere in Mumbai in a lovely duplex house. One sweet senior retired couple beyond their 70s was relaxing after dinner at around eight in the evening.

    They were Mr Dumbledore (DD) and his wife Mrs (DD), leading, a happy and relaxed retired life. They had only one child by the name of David who was in the US. He was happily married there with his wife and kids. His visits to India were rare after going to the US some ten years ago. Therefore, Mr & Mrs DD as grandparents saw their grandchildren only through Skype. Most certainly they were Hitech grandparents!

     But Mrs and Mr DD didn’t feel sad about it. Because, the grandchildren, were, only born in their presence. And they were happy with that. They had a simple funda in life—live and let live.  Because, higher the expectation, more the trouble. So, they had made it very clear to David. We have brought you up. Rest you look after yourself. But yes. A trip to the US as a gift from David was assured every year.

    They were that typical, liberal independent parents. Who were smart enough to manage on their own. Their duplex house in Mumbai was in crores and still belonged to Mrs and Mr DD and not David. DDs had worked in good companies all their lives. David too was doing well and didn’t need any of their funds as he was self sufficient.

    DDs house was one simple but a marvelous piece of work. It was white in colour. They loved white. But it required maintenance. And it wasn’t the responsibility of Mrs DD alone. Rather it was the responsibility of Mr DD too, to maintain it.

    Mrs DD was clear since the very beginning. All work needs to be divided. Where, even David was taught to clear his dishes. When, he started understanding life. As Mrs DD was also working, so she couldn’t have been everywhere.  Therefore, this white and simple mansion had no servants. Which Mrs and Mr DD had intentionally planned, so that they have tasks to do the whole day. Or else, how will their period of retirement pass?

     Well by now, you must be thinking they had no real fear. And they were satiated to the core. But truly speaking that’s impossible. For everyone has a weakness a fear or even an insecurity in life. Mr and Mrs DD feared losing each other. This indeed was their biggest fear. Though, they were nearing God’s doors. They didn’t want to die separately. As not only did they love each other immensely. They shared everything together and that included fights, tears, happiness and joy.

    On the health front both had BP and where Mr DD even had a little diabetes. But he did not have a sweet tooth. Though, he had a high temper as his blood was hot when he was young. The after effects of which, he was bearing even now. But old age doesn’t guarantee you any alarms before death. Do they? Perhaps, sometimes they do.

    So, there they sat … Mr and Mrs DD, killing time. Mr solving crossword and Mrs reading books. Every day they retired at 10 pm and got up at 5 am in the morning to go for a walk together. Cooking was Mrs DDs duty. Meanwhile gardening, watering the plants was Mr’s duty. Then dusting, arranging household stuff, cleaning of vessels was Mr DDs duty. Vacuuming and washing clothes etc was Mrs DDs duty. Nicely they had divided the work.

   They always prayed before sleeping … ‘that they wake up together, or sleep together forever.’ That was the only wish they had. But then what about this beautiful house of theirs? Well they had already planned for it. It would later be given to an NGO. Who in turn would run it as an old age home, for couples who weren’t as lucky as the Dumbledores.

    Of their savings 50% was to go to the trust, for their grandchildren. But who would get it only in their 30s. And, 50% was to go to an NGO for street children. So meticulous were they in their planning. They had also done a proper enquiry of the NGO beforehand. Wow! So meticulous, nothing could have gone wrong. Well everyone thinks so. By now they were fast asleep. It wasn’t raining. But of course the same thundering and lightning was still going on.

    Krrrrrr! The door bell rang. Krrrrr! The bell rang again. Mrs DD was a light sleeper. She thought the thunders were playing up. So she didn’t budge. But again, third time it went off. This time it was for a longer duration … Krrrrrrrrrr! Mrs got up, a bit shaky. But she was sure. It was still dead of night and not morning and to make sure she even pinched herself. To, check if she was awake and not sleeping.   

    She switched on the night lamp and checked the alarm clock. A lovely piece gifted by Mr Dumbledore to her sometime ago. ‘What! 3 am? Who the hell is ringing the doorbell at this time? She got a bit worried and of course tensed. For the first time ever she hadn’t checked on Mr Dumbledore. Strange isn’t it. And it was for the first time the bell had rung at this weird hour.

       For convenience they had purposely kept their bedroom at the ground floor. Mrs  DD thought of hurrying. But now the door bell didn’t ring again. Which was even more creepy, so she wore her sweater and slowly moved towards the bedroom door. They never closed the bedroom door. She trembled like a tortoise, and slowly moved towards the main door.

    And, she was now, only a few inches away from the main door. When, she decided to move back as the door bell had stopped few minutes back. She was confused, scared and even relieved. At the same time she had mixed emotions.

    So she drew back to return to her bed and there it went again. Krrrrrrr! … krrrrrr! … krrrrr! Continuously, three times. Her face went pale white. In the windy cold night, sweat rushed through her. She gathered all her energy and moved back, and opened the door, with the safety door latch intact.

    What she saw, when she opened the door was like a bad dream. Through the safety door, a huge flood light was as if leering at her face, and that was almost blinding her. She saw a rugged and weirdly modified vehicle standing outside. Yes, there was no one in it. But the vehicle was standing there with those lights on.

    What the hell is that? Is it some kind of a ghost, or a stupid youngster zonked? Who has no work but to trouble others while sleeping?

    Scared and also swearing under her breath. She was about to slam the door. When, suddenly a horrible, weird and a blackish appearing figure was suddenly in front of her. But yes, beyond the safety door so she was safe. He said, ‘Madame! Please open the door.’ Almost in a tone, as if, she was the maid, and he the owner of the house.

    She said, ‘pardon? Almost chokingly. He repeated, ‘Madam, open the door.’ This time there was no ‘please’ and then he started. ‘I am not going to harm you. Get this wooden thing off, between us.’ Mrs DD had no idea about what she was going to do. But then all of a sudden she opened the door. And when she did, she felt like slapping herself hard.

    ‘Ahhhh’ he said with a grin. ‘Madam, you trusted me rather too quickly. The time has come. In another half an hour I will be gone.’ Mrs DD’s head was spinning, as for the first time she was seeing him properly. You call him human, half human or a nut. She asked herself. He was huge. Mrs DD suddenly realized. She was staring at the sky with her mouth wide open. She straightened herself. Person, standing in front of her was a giant. He was pitch black, and surprisingly in the night he was wearing glasses, which were fluorescent green. On his head, there was a cap with horns. Yes a metal cap with red horns. Mrs DD felt she was not in her senses. So she moved back. He was shirtless. And he wore a fluorescent green boxer pants matching his glasses. It was short enough. The sight of which embarrassed Mrs DD. To, look any further. But then she wanted to take a full view of this cartoon. As by now the fear of the person was done away with. He wore wooden sandals, those ‘Paduka’ types. He jibed again, “Madam, are you through, ogling at me? I know I am very attractive. So I repeat. I have half an hour, and your time is also half an hour. Mrs DD almost yelled, ‘what are you!’ Oops she actually wanted to say who are you? By now she was least scared of this nut.

    ‘Madame I am YAMMYBOY!’

    Pardon? Mrs DD retorted.

    ‘Yes! I am YAMMYBOY and meet him. He is my RATH.’

    ‘Who … he?’ pointed Mrs DD.

    ‘Yes he is my RATH, behind me.’ Replied, YAMMYBOY. Waving at the esoteric machine he had got. Now Mrs DD was losing cool. She bombarded. ‘What do you want? You know its 3 am in the night? Why have you come to disturb us?’ Suddenly she remembered and pondered about Mr Dumbledore. Where was he? It’s been long. How come he didn’t hear anything? And howcome she forgot him? Mumbling all this in her mind, she hurried back as if she was alarmed. She opened the bedroom door. And saw … Mr DD was sleeping away to glory. He wasn’t aware of anything. She called out his name, ‘Dev … Dev’ … but he didn’t budge. She tried to wake him up. Suddenly, she realized. Dev wasn’t moving. His flat tummy wasn’t going up and down. Oh Jesus!

    ‘Madame …!’ The voice came from behind. She froze. ‘OMG! I left the door open. O shit that nut.’ ‘Madame!’ he said again. She looked behind, and there he was, standing in flesh and blood in their bedroom, with his wooden sandals on. She nearly screamed. ‘Madame you have wasted my time. By now I’m sure you must have come to know.’

    ‘What?’ Asked Mrs DD and further added. ‘What’s your name?’

    ‘I am YAMMYBOY, Madame’ he said. ‘Haven’t you recognized me? I am the YAMMYBOY. Oh in the oldies language. I am God YAMM! But yes, of the new age. I’m the modified and stylish YAMM. That, no longer ride’s the bull. I come on my YOYO rath.’

    OMG! Mrs DD froze. Everything went silent. Now the puzzle fell in place. He was YAM GOD the courier vehicle for the dead. Now she knew why Mr DD wasn’t moving. Why his tummy didn’t go up and down. OMG! Is this true? Unknowingly tears came out of her old eyes.

    ‘Madame … I have come to take Mr DD. His time has come. Already a lot of time has been wasted. Please move aside. I have to take his soul.’ Mrs DD was shattered. Her only wish, to live together and die together is going to break. She was going to faint. Suddenly she saw the alarm clock on the pillow, which she had left there in a hurry. It was 3.20 am. All this drama was now going on for twenty minutes. But after what he had said. She felt it was going on forever. She said, ‘Sir! You can do what you want. You can do your duty. But please have some tea. I really make good tea. For a moment YAMMYBOY was dumb. Maybe, either he didn’t realise its night time or he loved caffeine a bit too much. He said ‘Madame … I don’t drink tea. I drink coffee. But madame I have to leave now. I have a job to do.’

    ‘No no don’t worry. I will make coffee in no time. Please don’t worry.’ And before even letting him say anything further, Mrs DD held his hand. Yes she held his hand and asked him to come to the drawing room instead. YAMMYBOY felt a tingle in his body. Oh come on. He couldn’t have had hots for an old lady. But no one had ever held him like this. Especially, when he had come to say you are dead.

    He sat there waiting and checking his watch. He still had eighteen minutes. When, Mrs DD screamed. ‘Yeaaaaaaa.’ YAMMYBOY rushed towards the kitchen from where the scream came. Mrs DD was hitting something with the broom. ‘Madame, what happened?’ ‘It’s there kill him, kill him.’ And before he could even understand anything he was hit on his head. BOINK!!

    When he got up he found himself on a chair in the drawing room. He felt it was raining. But suddenly realized it’s not. Someone was splashing water, on him. ‘I’m so sorry. I am so sorry.’ It was Mrs DD’s voice. ‘There was a big cockroach. I had to kill him. But it had wings. So it flew and sat on your head.’

    ‘Madame no problem.’ He then saw the YUMMY cup of coffee, and without any ado, he drank it. ‘Thank you Madame, it was nice. Now my job is calling!’ He checks the time … ‘OMG!! Its 4:30 am Madame. I will lose my job. I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. The time for death of Mr DD was 3 am. Now he can’t be dead. You are lucky Madame.’ After saying this he rushed. He didn’t get mad at Mrs DD for what had happened. He just rushed like a moving mountain and while breezing past he said. ‘I will come back after checking on the next time slot, else I’ll be late for my next job.’

    She couldn’t believe it, that she had won over death. Really, did she? OMG … her tricked worked. But don’t know for how long. But at least for today she had cancelled Mr DDs death. Happy in her heart she goes to the bedroom and starts praying to God and smiles while looking at Mr DD. He had shifted his position by now. His Tummy was sideways going up and down. And then something happens when she collapses on the bed, and at that very moment she storms out of her sleep. She sits on the bed. No one is besides her. Where is Mr DD? She rushes out of the room. Looking here and there in panic and gets relief when she finally sees him in the kitchen.

    He waves at her and says, ‘Good morning, you slept late. Hope you’re well?’ Now Mrs DD is not sure. She very well knows it was a dream. But she is relieved, because Mr DD is with her. She goes into the kitchen. What she sees there makes her face white in fear. Mr DD shouts from behind. ‘Sorry darling I forgot to pick up the wooden rod and the dead cockroach. But I am wondering how these things got there.’ Mrs DD is now trembling. When, she catches sight of the cup and the saucer hidden in the kitchen, which, Mr DD obviously hasn’t seen. But wait. There is something below the saucer. A letter, it read,

    ‘Dear Mr and Mrs DD. No I am not a fool to have the coffee and I didn’t faint by the wooden broom. I quickly understood what you were trying to do Madame. So, I pretended. Only because I was dumbfounded, at the love, the longing and the struggle you undertook. Just to keep your DD live. I have so many people today on my list. I wish I had taken their loved ones away. But you were trying every which way, to postpone the time of death. You were smart. You thought of a trick. But you forgot I am YAMM GOD. Therefore, I left Mr DD to live for some more time with Mrs DD. And, as a penalty, I will make sure. I take you both together to HEAVEN. Till then CIAO.’ Mrs DD was dumbfounded as if she had gulped a PUMPKIN.

    WILL YAMMY BOY return soon?

 

By Kamlesh Tripathi

Kindly note only this page is copyrighted to Shravancharitymission. The copyright of the book is with the author.

*

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 especially cancer. 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

(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)

*****

      .

          

BOOK TALK: RIP VAN WINKLE by Washington Irving

Copyright@shravancharitymission

KHIDKI (WINDOWS)

–Read India Read Initiative—

This is an attempt to create interest in reading books. We may not get time to read all the books. But such reviews and synopsis will at least convey what the book is all about.

‘RIP VAN WINKLE’

WASHINGTON IRVING

    It is an old American short story that takes you back in times. Luckily, I got an opportunity to read it once again after many years in a book titled, ‘Great American Short Stories’ published by Barnes & Noble that has around thirty four short stories. Where, I would like to introduce the publication, through this evergreen fable, titled—RIP VAN WINKLE. Maybe, some other time I’ll take you through some other stories too, out of the book. The volume is illustriously introduced by Jane Smiley who happens to be an American novelist. She won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1992 for her novel ‘A Thousand Acres.’

    The setting of the story is in and around the Kaatskill mountains above the Hudson river. At the foot of these fairy mountains there is this antique little village founded by some Dutch colonists. The country side was then still a province of Great Britian. Where, a simple good natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle lived. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Stuyvesant of New Netherland now in the states of New York, New Jersey, Pennysylvania, Maryland, Connecticut, and Delaware. But he inherited little of the martial character of his ancestors.

    He was a simple good-natured man. A kind neighbour, and an obedient hen-pecked husband. He had a termagant wife by the name of Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles. He also told them long stories of ghosts, witches and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was often surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on to his skirts.

    The minus point in Rip’s composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of money making labour. He avoided work but spent time in helping others and gallivanting here and there for frivolous things.

    Rip Van Winkle was one of those happy-go-lucky types, of well oiled dispositions. Who took the world to be easy, ate white bread or brown, whichever could be got with least thought or trouble. He would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. And his wife kept continually dining in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family.

    Rip’s sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf. Who was as much hen-pecked as his master. For Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness. For a long while he consoled himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle persons of the village, which helped its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George the Third. They often gossiped when some old newspaper fell in their hands from some passing traveller. And how solemnly, they would listen to Derrick Van Bummel the school master. The opinion of this junto were, completely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning till night.

    Gradually, poor Rip was reduced to despair. His only alternative, to escape from the labour of the farm and clamour of his wife, was to take his gun in hand and saunter away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with wolf, with whom he sympatised as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. “Poor Wolf,” he would say, “thy mistress leads thee a dog’s life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee!”

    One day while Rip was on a long ramble on a fine autumnal day. He had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. Where, he was at his favourite sport of squirrel shooting in the desolate solitudes that echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon on a green knoll covered with mountain herbage from where he saw the brimming Hudson below him. Slowly the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys. So he lay there musing on this scene. He visualized it would be dark before he reaches the village. So he heaved a long sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle.

    And as he was about to, commence his descent, to the village. He heard a voice from a distance, hallooing, “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!” He looked round, but could see nothing but for a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and turned to descend, when he again heard the same cry ring through the still evening air; “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!” He turned around and was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place. He thought it was some neighbour asking for assistance. Is when Van Winkle saw a man wearing antiquated Dutch clothing; he was carrying a keg up the mountain and required help. Together, the men and Wolf proceed to a hollow in which Rip discovered the source of thunderous noises: a group of ornately dressed, silent, bearded men who were playing nine-pins.

    Rip Van Winkle did not ask who they are or how they knew his name. Instead, he began to drink some of their jenever (liquor) and soon fell asleep. When, he awoke on the mountain. He discovered shocking changes: His musket was rotting and had become rusty, his beard was a foot long, and his dog was nowhere to be found. He returned to his village, where he recognized no one.

    Rip had returned just after an election, and people were asking how he had voted. Never having cast a ballot in his life, he proclaimed himself as a faithful subject of King George III. Unaware, that the American Revolution had taken place. He nearly got himself into trouble with the townspeople. Until one elderly woman recognized him as the long forgotten and the long-lost Rip Van Winkle.

    King George’s portrait on the inn’s sign had been replaced with one of George Washington. Rip learnt that most of his friends were killed while fighting in the American Revolution. He was also perplexed and disturbed when he found another man by the name of Rip Van Winkle. But surprisingly he turned out to be his own son, now grown up. Rip also discovered that his wife had died some time ago but was not saddened, by the sad news.

    He learnt that the men he met in the mountains are rumoured to be the ghosts of Hendrick (Henry) Hudson’s crew. Which had vanished long ago, and that he had been away from the village for at least 20 years. His grown up daughter finally takes him home. He resumes his usual idleness. His strange tale is solemnly taken to heart by the Dutch settlers. Particularly by the children who say that whenever thunder is heard, the men in the mountains must be playing nine-pins. The henpecked husbands in the area often wish they could have had a sip of Van Winkle’s elixir to sleep through their own wives’ nagging.

    In the ultimate analysis Rip Van Winkle suffered because of his laziness. His punishment was to remain asleep for 20 years, because a person asleep, naturally misses the advent of the setting change. So, he missed the change: Both the pre-revolutionary and post revolutionary America. And that happens to be the central theme of the short story.

    *****

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 especially cancer. 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

*

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

(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)

*****

 

INTERESTING LINES AND QUOTES–220917

Copyright@shravancharitymission

I would never die for my beliefs because I could be wrong—Bertrand Russel

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Life isn’t about finding yourself it is about creating yourself—George Bernard Shaw

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Just remember, once you’re over the hill you begin to pick up speed—Arthur Schopenhauer

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Reform is china’s second revolution—Deng Xiaoping

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The first requisite of civilisation is that of justice—Sigmund Freud

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The well known sci-fi author Ron Hubbard once said—if you really want to make big money, you should start a religion.’

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You can stop speaking to someone, but you cannot stop being related—BURMESE PROVERB

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Assassination is the extreme form of censorship—George Bernard Shaw

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People make the nation and not the other way round

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Society is never interested in religion because religion is individual and society is always afraid of individuals—Osho

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The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves, that we are underlings—Shakespeare

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It is always better to try and fail rather than fail to try

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‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodies?’ (Who will guard the guards)

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One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well—VIRGINIA WOLF

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The ant that breaks the line is the one that finds new sources of food for the community. Rebellion is fundamental to innovation—Shekhar Kapur

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I am aware of being conscious but not conscious of being aware

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Make every problem look smaller than you

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India is famous for having many sick industries but no sick industrialist

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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)

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THE EPIDEMIC OF LONELINESS

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

 

 

 

 

    Things have changed, ever since, Vikram left for the US. He had promised he would return after completing his MBA. But then who returns? The opportunities out there are stupendous and galore. It stands out, living in the number one country of the world. Moreover, India couldn’t accommodate his dreams and aspirations so he had to be in the US. After MBA he was forced to take up a job. To repay the big loan that he had once taken for his studies. And by the time he finished paying it up. He was too well entrenched in the system, to return.

       I had seen this happening to others in my corporate circle. When their children went abroad for higher studies and didn’t return. But I could never visualize, one day it’ll even happen to us. With children not around life becomes one long monotonous tunnel of darkness for the parents, when they gradually start aging.

    All those peppy expressions, like qualification, opportunity, career, job, profession, aspiration, passion and many more that I once rejoiced and aligned with, are now scary words for me. In fact they have come to haunt me, at the twilight of my life. And, it is only because of those promising words he left. Perhaps, I too had left because of them when I was young. So, the circle is now complete, and about which I shouldn’t be complaining.

    The four bedroom apartment I had bought some time ago. Thinking, it will be occupied by we four and the grandchildren—the happy family. Is now, quiet and vacant. It is rather too big for the two of us. I had built some other assets too, for my child, to secure him. But I guess it’ll only have to languish now. So, I live with my assets and he lives with his career.

    Thanks to the Americans. Through their inventions we can at least stay connected on a daily basis with Vikram, Smita and the kids—so a big Jai ho to whatsapp, facebook and the rest. Rest, is all left behind. Social media now drives our lives. The other day I read a quote of Albert Schweitzer, French-German Theologian that describes our lives so very well. “We are all so much together, but we are dying of loneliness.”

    Since our housing society is new. From the very word go I have cultivated a warm friendship with our neighbours. They too happen to be our age and sail in the same boat as we do, with a son and a daughter. Son is in Bengaluru and the daughter in Mumbai. I find similar exhaustive expressions on their faces too. Perhaps, the realities of a harsh life are the same for everyone. We both are in sync with each others thoughts, future uncertainties and even the devious possibilities of life.

    Off late. I have started taking good care of my spouse. As she is the only one now, available for my immediate beck and call, just as I am for her. She still feels a day will come when we all, will be together. Where, I don’t want to ruffle her. Or maybe she’s putting up such conversations just to cheer me up. Small problems appear big now. These days, God has become my fast and frequent friend. I visit him quite regularly. Say every morning evening and at times, even during the day. For, who knows when I’ll need him? And all the gadgets at home that help us in our day-to-day appear divine.

    I’m now very particular about my fitness and even happier to see that she too, has joined the health regimen. We go for long morning walks every day. A sure shot way to feel young, fit and even positive. For, I’m convinced now, nothing will change. The life situation handed out to us has come to stay. So there is no point in telling yourself, one day we all will be together. In fact we are together by living apart. So accept this as your life and be happy.

    I now have a good routine. I have also started socializing as much as I can to ward off any negativity, seclusion, insecurity or even threats. I have made known to my well wishers about my anxieties in case of any untoward. I don’t go to office anymore but I’ve not retired either. I can’t. Because, there are always challenges at hand.  They could be day-to-day, health and even emotional. And my hobby is now flourishing. Above all, life is a journey where I’m not lowering my guard. But I don’t know what’ll be the scenario when one of us will be left alone.

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    The epidemic of loneliness is striking almost every household. I learnt about it more intimately after speaking to many old couples who don’t stay with their children. Most parents are left alone in their lives to fend for themselves. Where, children cannot be blamed either when the world has become their oyster.

    So, look after yourself and don’t just only depend on your children. As they have their own pressures of life to handle..

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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

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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)

*****

 

DO YOUR JOB WELL AND YOU WON’T FEEL HURT.

Copyright@shravancharitymission

 

 

    On his first day in office as President when Abraham Lincoln entered to give his inaugural address. One rich and aristocratic appearing person stood up and said, ‘Mr. Lincoln, you should not forget that your father used to make shoes for my family.’ And with that the whole Senate laughed. They thought they had made a fool of Lincoln.

    But certain people are made of a totally different mettle. Lincoln was one of them. He looked at the man directly in the eye and said,

    ‘Sir, I know that my father used to make shoes for your family, and there will be many others here, who too, wear shoes made by him. Because, he made them the way nobody else could, as he was a creator. His shoes were not just shoes. He poured his whole soul into them. I want to ask you, if you have any complaint about his workmanship? Because, I know, how to make shoes myself. If you have any complaint I can make you another pair of shoes. But as far as I know, nobody has ever complained about my father’s shoes. He was a genius and a great creator and I am proud of my father.’

    The whole Senate was dumb struck. They could not understand what kind of man Abraham Lincoln was. He was proud because his father did his job so well. That not even a single complaint had ever been heard of.

    Moral of the story: If you are excellent at your work no matter what work you do happiness will always be yours.

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By Kamlesh Tripathi

*

Share if you like it

*

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

NAME OF ACCOUNT: SHRAVAN CHARITY MISSION

Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805

*

Our publications

GLOOM BEHIND THE SMILE

ONE TO TANGO … RIA’S ODYSSEY

AADAB LUCKNOW … FOND MEMORIES

REFRACTIONS … FROM THE PRISM OF GOD

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

*****

 

 

HAPPENING WORLD–FACTS & PROJECTIONS

Copyright@shravancharitymission

By Kamlesh Tripathi

 

 

By some accounts the Pakistani army chief bears a personal grudge against India—his uncle was killed in the 1965 war and his brother in the 1971

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India is known for producing CEOs of Google, Microsoft, Pepsico, Mastercard, Deutsche Bank, etc. And Pakistan? For hoisting heads of Al-qaida, Taliban, Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jaish-e-Muhammed, Haqqani group etc.

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Gandhi arrived in South Africa in 1893 at the age of 23. Within a week he collided head on with racism. His immediate response was to flee the country that so degraded people of colour, but then his inner resilience overpowered him with a sense of mission, and he stayed to redeem the dignity of the racially exploited, to pave the way for the liberation of the colonised the world over and to develop a blueprint for a new social order. He left 21 years later, a near Mahatma (great soul).

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Valmiki gave up life as a robber and meditated for years in penance before he went up to compose the epic Ramayana. He is now revered as the ‘Adi Kavi,’ or the first poet, as he is said to have invented the ‘Shloka,’ the first verse, which defined the form of Sanskrit poetry.

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The trade unions represent 15% of the workforce in the organised sector. 85% represents the unorganised sector.

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Cities are our engines of growth and contribute around 63% of India’s GDP.

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Chikungunya was discovered in 1952, in Tanganyika. Indian dengue was first recorded in Madras in 1780, but the first proven epidemic was in west Bengal, 1963-64, also proving its first chief minister, BC Roy’s claim: ‘What Calcutta does today, the rest of India does tomorrow.’

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Total incidents of violent crime in UP fell dramatically from 1999 to 2003 at the rate of 16% per annum. This period coincided with the time when BJP was in power in the state. However, since 2003 when either BSP or SP have been in power, violent crimes in UP have increased significantly at the rate of over 7%. In comparison Bihar which is the closest to UP in its record of crimes, registered increase in violent crimes at 3% per annum.

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In 2014, violent crime in UP was 25% more than in Bihar.

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India’s direct tax payers form part of a narrow base which contributes more than 50% of the Centre’s total tax revenue.

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In 2012-13, tax department’s data showed that 28.9 million individuals filed tax returns, of whom only about 1.6 million people claimed income above Rs 1 million. When this number is juxtaposed with the 2.6 million cars sold the same year.

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India’s income tax base is unnaturally narrow. It spends less than a rupee to collect Rs 100 of direct tax.

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Indian railways continues to be the lifeline of the nation with over 800 crore trips annually

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Air travel in India is likely to continue to grow quickly for the next 10-12 years. To support this growth, investment in airports is expected to be upwards of Rs 2.5 lakh crore. Around 700 planes could be added to our current fleet of around 450 planes totalling an investment of Rs 3 lakh crores.

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Currently the aviation sector is estimated to directly employ 2 lakh people and 12 lakh people across various parts of the value chain, a multiple of 5.8x. in the next decade the sector could employ more than 5 lakh people directly and 30 lakh overall.

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From more than 90% of aspirants failing the central Teacher’s eligibility test year after year, to teacher absenteeism touching as high as 40% in the poorest states, to the prevalence of English Teachers who just can’t speak English. All around there are signs that teacher recruitment in India is in a bad shape.

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Environment: while the Montreal Protocal is now ratified by 197 countries, the Paris agreement has been ratified by 63 countries representing 52.11% of global greenhouse emissions

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The world bank/IMF estimates the size of Indian economy in 2016 at 2.28 trillion $ making it the world’s 7th largest. At $270 billion in 2015, Pakistan is the world’s 38th largest. India’s export of merchandise has powered past 300$ billion and is closing on $500 billion, if you count services, despite a slowdown in 2016. Pakistan’s exports are straining to get past #30 billion. India’s foreign exchange reserves stand at $367 billion; Pakistan is at $20 billion.

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Pakistan is one fourth of India’s size. Has a sixth of its population and poses an equal. Yet India cannot rid itself of Pakistani pestilence.

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Pakistan’s ministry of Overseas told the country’s legislature this week that Saudi Arabia and UAE together hosted nearly 90% of the total Pakistani workforce of 9,48,000 sent overseas last year. Jobs provided to Pakistani by some other counties: Germany 44, Turkey 57, Singapore 68, Japan 84, UK 261 and USA 350.

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