Man is a Domestic Animal

I was once watching the movement of an ox. He was being virtually driven with force towards the land he would plow. On the other hand, he looked quite happy to return back to the home where it would be strapped to a pole till the next morning. I found that the same was true with other domesticated animals, and strangely those  meant for eventual slaughter. Animals seldom socialize. What about a man, be that a hunter who returns home from the hills or a sailor who returns home from the sea ?

The moment a man leaves his home , he starts looking for comfort as being those available at his home. Watch his Sedan ! It will certainly be equipped with an  air conditioning device, a makeshift bed, a cupboard full of drinks, and boot space filled with whatnots.

The train has also transformed itself into a house or a palace on wheels. Over a period of time, we left far behind the smoke, and coal dust of a steam engine, the vibrations originating from undulated rails, or a stranger sitting by your side. These days , the trains do not have several stoppages, refueling halts, and window purchases. Now you are sealed in with integrated pantries, fixed glass pane windows,TV viewing et.al. You detest having a company of your kind.

When in Rome  we prefer not to do as the Romans do. Even in five star hotels, you shall find persons asking for his native boiled rice or cookies. Certainly , you shall feel at home when you overhear somebody talking in your native tongue. I , myself was enthralled to find a Royal Bengal Tiger, a beggar in the precinct of a  zoo, and a man relieving himself over the bushes behind a car parking area in a rather developed country. The environment had a homely touch.

Whenever, we return back home from a journey, we take less time. People say that it is because you are then familiar with the roads,and their nuances. I feel otherwise.

Deliberate mummification,and keeping household items,and jewelry by the side of such mummies were a common feature of several South American, and Asian culture since 6000 years. It is still in vogue. Now we immerse the body in liquid Nitrogen or use the technique of plastination. In India, only a century back, kings,and nobles were transmitted soul,and body together with billions of worth of jewelry straight to the homely comfort of the heaven. These gentlemen were blind folded. They were pushed into a deep well floored with upright spears. Their bits,and pieces of mortal remain washed down to the holy Ganges.

At the present time, we try to provide state of the art homely comfort in the graves to the departing bodies of flesh,and bones complete with a copy of the Holy Bible.

All mammals are social in as much as the mother,and its offspring bond to a certain degree. Man could be called a  social animal if he has a highly interactive organism with different members of its kind; if there is a permanence in relationships,and togetherness.

Permanence,and togetherness have faded into the past. In its place , we are more inclined towards me, my,and myself. We are fond of ourselves. We love ourselves. However, We feel proud in carrying our cross in public. Now social networking in the homely comfort is enough with putting a mere ‘like’ on other’s posts to get reciprocated suitably.

We are more a domestic robots than socially organic. 

The Mango Man of India !

Lately, the word mango has become the most used reference for a common man in India. The Government of India brands a common man as a “Aam Admi” in official national popular Hindi language. The media has translated “Aam Admi” as a mango man. Mango is called “Aam” in Hindi. I am still not sure whether the media has tried to upgrade the status of a common man or it is just a satirical synonym. However, the surface area of the  graph of this 21^st century mango man optimizes for the middle-middle class Indians as this category is the primary reason for the prosperity of media by raising its target rating points (TRP). The graph tapers down on the negative side where the poorest of the poor lurk like jungle grass and radiates at the grass root on the other side captured by  the upper middle class category who are going berserk to get themselves identified among the rich and the affluent.

Now-a-days, If one compares the Indian politicians with a street dogs , many people put strong objections to it . They rightly feel that this is an insult to street dogs.

I have also strong objections for calling a common man to be a mango man. I treat this to be a great insult ; not to a common man but to a mango tree. Only Indian “Mahatma” or the world class saints could reach to some of the qualities, virtues and wisdom of a mango tree.

A mango tree ( Mangifera indica) has a life up to 300 years. Though some dwarf varieties are also being grown, a fully grown mango tree could be 100⁺ feet tall with a crown radius of 30⁺ feet. Its leaves are evergreen. The Indians use its leaves and wooden branches for religious rituals. Its fruit called mango is a stony flesh. It is eaten while unripe and are pickled to various tastes. Its ripe fruit has a wide range of sweetness from slightly sour to deeply sweet and come in multitude of flavours, sizes and shapes . On an average, a mango tree gives around 200-1000 fruits during onset of the rainy season weighing 1-10 quintals.

The Hindu dominated India shows a ripe mango held by Lord Ganesh, the symbol of attainment. Mango blossoms are used for worshipping the goddess Sarasvati, the symbol of knowledge. The goddess Ambika of the Jain is traditionally represented as sitting under a mango tree. In several places in the world its fruit and leaves are used as floral decorations at auspicious ceremonies.

Having written all this, try to visualize such a tree standing majestically for centuries, giving shelters to birds, shades to  tired, fragrance to passers by, delivering delicious fruits in quintals without making any distinction among poor of the poorest and rich of the richest. If you happen to look through a speeding train window, these mango trees look like in meditation but with a difference. The Saints and the yogis do also sit on meditation but for a while. The mango tree stands rooted for centuries never going a-begging from one door to the another with a bowl but is fully satisfied with what its root , leaves and barks can adsorb and absorb. It never preaches but fans out fragrant breeze to freshen the air and the environment. 

A common man anywhere around the world has the same credentials. It has as many vices but a few virtues. Right from when he takes birth, he takes more than what he gives. He consumes more than what he could easily give. He never loves to stand as one family bound to each other with love and respect. He does not understand the power of honesty, sacrifice and service. He fights among each other rather than becoming a courageous and disciplined army. He never believes that the service to the nation is the service of the Lord of the Lords nor that the devotion to the people is the devotion to the supreme self. He loves only himself.

This universe and the Earth has born from imperfection. The dirt and debris collected by a black hole get unified and goes on to become a red star, a dwarf star and to further annihilation. On Earth, the nature has over a long period of time, slowly and steadily made flora and fauna to come closer to perfection. Only this common man is promoting those forces and people who are polluting the environment and trying to undo what the nature is ever trying to attain.

This common man has to choose whether he shall side with the perfecting forces or the annihilating forces. Both the measures have the same Greek tragedy. A perfect state ceases to react and becomes passive. The synonym of passiveness is death. A state full of anarchy also culminates to chain reaction leading finally to dirt and debris. But “Nirvana” or “Moksha” is certainly more beautiful than an explosion with implosion integrated.

While “Nirvana” is what a mango tree attains, the opposite is true for a common man.

However, the nature creates anything with a perfect objective in its mind. A measured amount of dirt is necessary to sustain a friendly atmosphere so is the grass which is not created for trampling but to make thge walk pleasurable and healthy; but to make the Earth green and devoid of desert. These dirt particles and sand goes on to make concrete and bricks that has created the modern world. Where there is grass, there is no desert.

A common man alone is like a dirt particle in a glass of drinking water. But when he conglomerate and corporates it becomes a brick and then a wall and then a building and then a city and then a metro. When the common man unites he makes a square either Red or Tehrir.

This common man is the reason behind a nation going democratic or autocratic, socialist or capitalist. He selects Lincoln and Nehru, he develops Napoleon or Hitler. He catalyzes a single party rule. He builds capitalist countries like America. He is the reason for a country favoring terrorists. He makes a nation a failed state. He catapults Gandhi to the peaks of a "Mahatma" and he pushes Gaddafi to the gutter.

Rise and awake – you mango man. Become aware of your latent power and become a “Hanuman” . Every common man alias mango man has an important role to play in building a paradise on the Earth.

भारत २०२५

कुछ दिन पहले मैं थोक में कुछ किराना सामान लेने मंडी गया. वहाँ मैंने देखा कि सेठ ने अपने बगल के फर्श में एक 6X3X3 फीट का एक पिट बना रखा था . वह पिट ऊपर से एक लोहे की जाली से ढंका हुआ था. उसमें सैकड़ों रंग-बिरंगी पोटलियाँ रखी हुई थी. लोग आते थे.  सेठ पहचान कर उन्हें उनकी पोटलियाँ दे देता था. कुछ लोग पोटलियाँ रखने भी आते थे. सेठ उनपर एक टैग लगाकर उसी पिट में फेंक देता था. मालूम हुआ यह प्रथा चिरंतन काल से चली आ रही है. लोग आज भी इस तरीके की बैंकिंग में पूरा विश्वास रखते हैं. उस पिट में हर समय करोंडों की संपत्ति रहती है. सबकुछ आज भी ईमानदारी से हो रहा है उसकी यह जीती-जागती मिसाल थी.

मेरे हाथ 1949 की किराना की एक रसीद लगी. उस समय शुद्ध घी का दाम 1 रुपये 25 पैसे था.  दस प्राणियों के परिवार के लिए 40 रुपये की रसद पर्याप्त होती थी, जिसमें घर की बाई, नौकर भी शामिल रहते थे. आज वही घी 200 रुपये का हो गया है पर यकीनन शुद्ध नहीं है.   

मुझे एक 1957 की रसीद भी मिली. मुझे याद है, जब मैं 9 वर्ष का था तो माँ मुझे किराना से खुदरा सामान लेने भेजती थी. 8-10 सामानों की फेहरिस्त मैं मुह्जबानी याद रखता था और चन्दन राम सेठ के पास एक सांस में दुहरा दिया करता था जिससे भूल न जाऊं. सेठ सब सामान दे दिया करता था. पहली तारीख को उधार चुकता कर दिया जाता था. न सेठ ज्यादा लेता था न हमलोग कम दिया करते थे. हाँ, जो पैसा चुकाने जाता था उसे सेठ एक-दो टाफी जरूर दिया करता था . 1957 में ईमानदारी का यह आलम था.

1963 में हमलोग कुछ साथी पिकनिक पर गए. सबने लीडर साथी के पास खर्चे का पैसा जमा कर दिया. पिकनिक में लगा कि लीडर ने सभी समान काफी सस्ते में लिए होंगे. बाद में उसने हमलोगों को फोटो के प्रिंट्स भी दिए. बहुत बाद में उसने बताया कि उसने कुछ 10% पैसा अलग से लगाया था जिससे कि हमलोगों को किसी बेईमानी की शंका न रहे. ऐसा भी होता था.

1992 में, मैं दो महीने की ट्रेनिंग के बाद कलकत्ता से लौट रहा था. रांची रेलवे स्टेशन पर मालूम हुआ कि उस दिन हड़ताल थी. बड़ी मुश्किल से दूर एक रिक्शावाला दिखा. मैंने तय किया की उसे वाजिब 10 रुपये भाड़े की जगह मैं 20 रुपये दूंगा. मैं रिक्शा पर बैठ गया और उसे कालोनी ले चलने को कहा. रिक्शावाला थमक गया और बोला’ “ हम पहले बोल देते हैं, दस रुपये से एक भी पैसा कम नहीं लेंगे.” खैर मैंने घर पहुंचकर उसे 20 रुपया ही दिया. रिक्शावाला चाहता तो हड़ताल का हवाला देकर मुझसे कुछ भी वसूल कर सकता था. कुछ दिनों बाद जब मैं ट्रेन से लौट रहा था तब एक नवजवान टिकेट कलेक्टर से भेंट हुई. उसने मुझसे वेटिंग लिस्ट से स्लीपर कनवरशन के बिल्कुल सही पैसे लिए और रसीद भी दी. हाँ, वह छुट्टे के 50 पैसे भी लौटाने आया था.

अभी कल ही की तो बात है. मेरा एक सीलिंग फैन से महंक आने लगी. मैंने उसे ऑफ कर दिया. पास के रिपेयर शॉप से बात की. मैंने कारीगर से वाईंडिंग का रेट पूछा. उसने बताया कि आजकल रेट 325 रुपये है. मैं वह पंखा लेकर उसके पास गया. उसने मुझे बैठने को कहा. उसने पंखा खोल कर देखा और बताया कि वाईंडिंग ठीक है पर एक-दो जगह कटी हुई है. मुझे रिपेयर के मात्र 125 रुपये ही देने होंगे. वह चाहता तो पूरे 325 या उससे भी ज्यादा रुपये ऐंठ सकता था.

मेरे घर से पूरब की ओर पैसेवाले रहते है. उधर आप जैसे-जैसे आगे बढ़ते जायेंगे सब्जियों का दाम बढ़ता हुआ साफ़ नजर आएगा. घर से पश्चिम का इलाका गाँव की ओर जाता है. उस तरफ आप बढ़ते जाईये और ताज़ी सस्ती सब्जियों से मुलाकात कीजिये.

हमलोग बहुत दिनों बाद अपने घर लौटे. कुछ लोग मिलने भी आये . इस गहमा-गहमी में मेरी श्रीमतीजी का सोने का चेन खो गया. मैं घर की बाई पर कैसे शक करता जो जब कभी भी बुहारू करते समय कान की रिंग अथवा सिक्के गिरे होते हैं तो उसे उठाकर सामने रख दिया करती है. हमलोगों ने किसी से भी कुछ नहीं कहा.

मुझे जीवन में बेईमान लोग भी मिले हैं पर उनकी संख्या अबतक ईमानदार लोगो की अपेक्षा नगण्य सी रही है. जो एक-दो लोग बेईमान मिले वो न तो मुझसे नीचे के तबके के लोग थे और न मेरे साथ के लोग थे अपितु मुझसे ज्यादा समृद्ध थे.

2010 में भारत के एक प्रसिद्ध अस्पताल में मेरी एंजियोप्लास्टी हुई. दो स्टंट भी लगे. सब कुछ ठीक-ठाक हो गया. दुःख केवल इतना है कि पैसों का इन्तेजाम करने में दो घंटे लग गए और उतनी देर मुझे ऑपरेशन टेबल पर लिटा कर रखा गया. मुझे एक तीसरा स्टंट लगाने की भी ताकीद की गयी थी. मैं पुणे के एक प्रसिद्ध अस्पताल के बहुत ही प्रतिष्ठित डाक्टर से मिला. मैंने उन्हें बताया कि मुझे एक स्रोत से रियायती दाम में ब्रांडेड स्टंट मिल जायगा. पर डाक्टर ने सीधे नकार दिया क्यूंकि उसमें मिलने वाले कमीशन से वह वंचित रह जाता.

आज समूची राजनीतिक पार्टियां देश का भला करने में लगी हैं खासकर आम आदमियों की जिंदगी  खुशहाल करने की कसमें खा रहे है. सत्तारूढ़ पार्टी ने 5 लाख करोड का घोटाला किया है और डीज़ल तथा गैस के दामों में पुरजोर वृद्धि करके आम आदमी को खुशहाल कर दिया है. अब अगर कोई दूसरी पार्टी सत्ता में आती है तो वह बिचारी पिछले 10 सालों से भूखी कम से कम 20 लाख करोड का घोटाला तो करेगी ही और आम आदमी की जिंदगी को कुछ और ज्यादा खुशहाल कर देगी. 
आम आदमी कम खायेगा तो स्वस्थ रहेगा, रुखा-सूखा खायेगा तो ज्यादा स्वस्थ रहेगा, पैदल या साईकल पर आना-जाना करेगा तो बिल्कुल स्वस्थ रहेगा, छोटा परिवार रखने के लिए शादी न करने का प्रयत्न करेगा और प्राणायाम (हवा खा-पीकर) पूर्णरूपेण  सुखी हो जायेगा.

भारत की आबादी बहुत जल्द ही 1947 की 35 करोड तक आ जायेगी. २०२५ तक परिष्कृत और नवीनतम  तकनीकें नानो-टेबलेट्स से बाजार भर देगीं जिससे प्रत्येक मनुष्य स्वस्थ और भरा-पूरा  रहेगा . शुद्ध घी 1 रुपये किलो और बासमती चावल रुपये का 5  किलो मिलने लगेगा. 
पृथ्वी पर अगर स्वर्ग कहीं होगा तो वह यहीं  होगा, यहीं होगा, यहीं होगा !  

   

Thanks ! Ms. Singer .

When I returned back to my home after over 9 months, I found that the biggest casualty had been the Singer sewing machine inside which rats have mercilessly carved out their residence. I took up its cleaning and servicing on top priority. After a relentless working upon, the machine retained its lost identity, but forgot to sew. My wife told me that she had changed the bobbin case bought from the local market. The bobbin case was not fitting properly. I called a servicing man, and meanwhile I fed the machine’s serial number to the Singer at singerco.com. In the intervening period I tried to recapitulate the life history of this hand driven sewing machine.
My father was transferred to the steel city Jamshedpur (Tatanagar) sometime in 1949. I was 2 years old at that time. My father was the single person from State civil service among the locality of Bengali engineers working in the factories. My mother became extremely popular within a short period of time. The reasons were many. First, she was the wife of a magistrate having 2-3 peons always at her behest, the services of whom she readily shared with her neighbours. Secondly, she used to give homeopath medicines to anybody who came. The good part was that her medicines used to give immediate and sure results. Thirdly, my mother was a lady of letters. She used to guide neighbourhood children in writing prose and poetry. But the trump card was her hand operated Singer sewing machine. At that period of time, women normally stitched their clothes themselves mostly by hand. A sewing machine was a blessing in disguise more so when the owner was more than ready to share and sometimes assist in complicated stitching.
I used to hear the buzzing of machine during daytime everyday. I had a good looksee only when one day in 1952, my mother was stitching a half pant for me and a full pant for my elder brother. Sometimes, my mother used to let me turn the handle of the machine. The machine was given to my mother by her mother who herself purchased it sometime in the 1930’s. 
10 years after, I was allowed to use it to do patch work on my torn trousers or for stitching lace for my pajama and secret pockets. My two younger sisters had become expert in stitching. My third little sister was only 4 years old when she began assisting my mother in her stitching work. The help included threading the needle, filling the bobbin, straightening the stitched cloth appearing from the other side of the machine and of course bringing glass of water and cup of tea for my mother.
One day a very terrifying mishap occurred before my eyes. My little sister was helping my mother as usual by straightening the cloth from the other side when suddenly the needle pierced through her little finger across the nail. If one liked to give example of reflex action and bravery then that was my mother. She within a flicker of a second unsaddled the needle from the machine, took the needle between her teeth and pulled out the same. My little sister did not get time even for shouting and crying. By evening, she almost forgot.
I was the only engineer son of the family. In fact, in my nascent years of learning, I damaged more than I repaired. I was nicknamed “Uncle Podger”. However, the  family had no other option but to depend upon me for day today damage control activities. I used to service and oil the sewing machine once in a year. This practice lost its way when I started living away from my parental house after I got a gainful employment in a heavy engineering factory at Ranchi.
Once, after my marriage, when I went to my paternal house at Patna, I found the sewing machine lost in dirt and sitting neglected in a corner. My mother told me that in absence of routine servicing, it runs with some good effort and hence is not in use since long. Before returning, I bought a new sewing machine for my mother and took the old Singer sewing machine with me to Ranchi. After due cleaning and servicing it started working beautifully again. When my mother came to my residence during Puja vacation,  and found the machine to be running well, she urged me to swap with the new machine that I gave her. But, I made her believe that this old machine might again start giving her trouble in absence of routine servicing by an expert. In fact, I had and have a great attachment. The sound of the running machine did not let me feel the absence of my mother. It was a sound of music more so when my mother is no more.

Well, the above was a long history laid down in as short narration as possible. The repair/serving person changed the bobbin case, and the machine was again its self to our utter joy. The repair person told me that if I so wished, the machine could be heat painted and given a new brief case style housing. It would become completely new in its look.

But I like its vintage look and motherly affection similar to as I like my greying hair.
Meanwhile, the Singer Company at singerco.com wrote to me that the machine was manufactured at Clydebank, Scotland in April, 1933.

Animal Instinct

When I see a crawling child smashing a passing by cockroach, I am convinced that I might have killed several when I was a nappy child. This conviction grows stronger when I glance through my past life as a growing child later attaining adulthood and then migrating into the other side of the age.

When I started walking and could throw a stone, my first causality was a frog. It used to be an easy target but it seldom got hurt. Most of the time, it leaped away even after being hit by a stone of its size.

At the age of ten, I gained expertise in using a catapult. Basically, catapulting was meant for felling mangoes and guavas but if a bird came into the eyesight , it had to fly before my stone bullet reached it. I must have injured and killed 5 to 6 sparrows, a mynah and finally a crow. The last was a nightmare for me for days to come. As soon as , I came out of my house, crows started to cry hoarse and tried to injure my head and face. It continued for more than a month. That was the end of catapulting.
Next in line were the stray dogs. We used to take pot shot from a distance. After getting hit, the howling of the dog gave us immense happiness. This foray also stopped when my house got a pet and a passing boy hit it with a stone when my pet was relieving itself outside the gate in the bushes. I could not stand the cry of my favourite.

My father used to give his 0.22 bore rifle to his workers to kill stray dogs suffering from hydrophobia. Once in a while, he used to correct his rifle’s sight by aiming and hitting a target which normally used to be a fruit on a tree.

When I was 21, I accompanied my senior colleagues to have a look-see of a shikar party. We went to a nearby jungle with 0.22 bore rifle. One of my colleague bagged a rabbit while another used his splinter gun to shower splinter on a bunch of pigeons. He killed two.I did not fire even a single shot.

My Muslim friends took delight in slitting the throat of chickens in slow motion which they termed as “Halal”. I am a non-vegetarian. I generally favoured the meat of a goat whose throat was slit before me to be sure of its freshness and masculinity. Once, I took my 3 year old daughter to such a sight. She became vegetarian thereafter.

When, I was thirty, I was given an opportunity to kill a goat . In fact, 11 goats were purchased for the purpose of serving NV delicacies to the guests of my brother-in-law marriage. I was told that this was the prevalent Rajput tradition there and the sister’s husband was honoured by inviting him for the first kill. I was given a hereditary sword. I was instructed the way I would operate the sword. I was successful in parting the head from the body in one great blow. That was the turning point.

Suddenly , I found myself turning my eyes from goats getting beheaded or chicken getting their throat slit. Even felling of fully grown trees started giving me uneasiness. I owned the hobby of gardening. I had turned 50.

It was 1998 when my son brought in a puppy. It was a mixed breed so I started teaching it to fetch balls and obeying some small commands. Once, when I threw a ball towards it, the ball hit the pet on its face. From that day, the pet just backed down when I tried to give him any command. I hit it with a chain. That made it still more afraid of me. I could not stand its misty eyes. From that day, I never inflicted pain on any creature. Rather, I would sprinkle some grains on the terrace for the birds and bought bread and biscuits to give to pets living in my vicinity. By the time , I had two pet dogs with me.

In 2008 my 1998 born pet ran out of my house panicked by the  bursting fire crackers seven days before the Deepawali(light) festival. Last year, my second pet died of injury inflicted on its stomach by a big dog. While dying, he left my house and sat near the portico to take its last breath. I vowed never to keep a pet.

My younger brother who lives in the main house inside the campus has 5 dogs of different pedigree. They come in the morning to demand a piece of bread from me. My day begins with such a good note.

Apart from animals, the plant and the trees also respond. When I came to live in my present abode, the mango tree by the side of my room seldom gave fruits. But once I started living with my family , it seemed to have a company. It is a fully grown tree planted by my late mother. I have never done any rearing or watering but yes I always watch it affectionately. It started giving the most delicious mangoes and is by far the most fruit laden tree in any year.

This year I was away since eight months and returned only in mid-July. This is the time when mango trees are fully relived from fruits. On my way home, I prayed that I would like to see only one mango still hanging on the tree. The next morning, I went upstairs. I looked up towards the tree.. There was one fruit still there. Five minutes later , a parrot came . It plucked the fruit. It sat on the roof by the side of the tree. It took ten minutes to eat that fruit which I would have taken 1 minute to devour. The longest enjoyment that I ever had of eating a fruit of that size.
How true are our holy books which says that in the beginning there was only stone and debris. Then there were vegetation. Thereafter came the animals. The social animal called "Man" was the logical progression. And in the end there is the humane, , the exact specification to reach the doors of the Almighty.

The News Paper

My first tryst with a piece of news paper was when I was 5 years old, and the roadside vender gave me peanuts wrapped in it. My father used to read news paper when he took his breakfast. The title of the newspaper “The Statesman” always fascinated me.

My real rendezvous began with the search of photos related with cricket in the sports page. My serious confrontation started when my father began giving me passages to read, write and discuss.

Then there was the first student disturbance in 1957 at Patna. When hearing the voice of the news paper vendor, I ran to the door, I found my elder brother already clutching the newspaper and escaping to a remote place in the house. The competition raged with time. Sometimes , I got beat up for not backing down or handing over the paper to my brother. He never liked taking one or two pages to share reading. He wanted all. The most surprising thing was that I never found him abstaining from waiting for the paper at the door or the outer gate as the case might be. It only subsided after 15 years when my brother went to Delhi to oblige an employment.

My father was an ardent reader of  NJ Nanporia, Pran Chopra and particularly S. Nihal Singh. He used to ask us to read their articles so that our command over English language strengthened. My brother reaped the harvest, and he opted for master degree in English and his English could easily be ranked with top notch of the time. It seemed that I was more interested in teasing my brother and making a hollow competition, the result was my English never reached the second step of the ladder. 
The fight for getting the print first remained alive with my younger brothers lining up with me , sometimes ahead of me.

I went for higher education in the science stream and took Masters degree in Physics. But my appetite to stand erect before my elder brother never succumbed. I learnt and relish one Latin phrase in Science, and that was Q.E. D.(quod erat demonstrandum, which translates as "which was to be demonstrated") . I chose only those matters to write which have a punch and that finish with a triumphant QED.

When, I was of my own, I remained a regular reader of “The Statesman”. When, my children became of age and needed some brushing up and keeping pace with advancement in various fields, I began purchasing “The Hindu”. This news paper had more educative material as compared to others in the 90’s.  My son, who used to go to catch the school bus in the morning, sometimes took the paper with him for reading during the long bus ride. 
Only last year, in 2011, my friendship with print media began diminishing as at 66 , my eye sight does not   relish small prints, and then there is the online media with the latest in happenings with YouTube to complement.

However, the crave always draws me to the gate now captured by sons of my younger brothers and their pet dogs. The dogs love to play tear-tear. Most of the times, when I used to return from my morning walk, I found news papers loitering on the pathway inside the gate. Sometimes, the dogs relished biting and tearing. To stop this nuisance, I instructed the vendor to position the paper on top of the cemented pillar of the gate so that the dogs have not their day.

I returned to my native town Ranchi after a gap of 9 months. The TV channel had to be revived ; the internet had to be reconnected. Next morning, I found two news papers waiting to be availed on the pillar of the gate. But I resisted my temptation. The papers remained there for almost two hours after which I found them to have been removed.

For several days when I returned from my morning walk, I used to find news papers kept at their assigned place on the pillar. One fine morning, I could not resist. I was sure that my nephews would need it after two hours. I assured myself that I would place back the papers after glancing through only after 15-20 minutes.

I reached my open verandah. I sat on the chair. I wore my reading glasses. My wife gave me my first cup of tea of the day. I took up the first news paper. That was  “ The Times of India”. And there was that big news,”India Against Corruption: Team Anna eyes 2014 polls, to call off fast today”. Suddenly a shadow fell on the news paper. I raised my head.

My young nephew was smiling, and his pet dog had a puzzled look in his eyes. Now people having concern with newspaper are getting up early in the morning.

A Pilgrim Odyssey

Indian temples and places of pilgrims gain importance and reverence in order of their location; more tough is the path- more valued is their worship and more possibility of reaping rewards from such pilgrimage. Swami Shankracharya had , therefore, stamped four temples in the four corners of India of which one is at the top North.

My friend Ashok, when he became a senior citizen, opted for the life of a pilgrim. It seemed that the Gods were also with him. He always found the way to pilgrimage paved for him. While going to Puri, his next berth traveler in the train was from Ram Krishna Mission. The later arranged for his stay at Puri for free. When he went to Trivandrum, his taxi driver was from his village. He took him to his home and to all places of worship without asking for any payment. At Hardwar, he stayed at a lodge operated by a person who was his class mate in school.

In his journey to Amarnath Caves which was at an attitude of around 4000 meter and 150 KM from Srinagar, he had no such assistance and had to be of his own. It was a nightmare when terrorists attacked and all the pilgrims fled away helter and skeltor. He had one blanket with him when it became dark and very cold. He somehow reached the place of temporary stay in tents. He was very tired and shivering with cold when he saw row of tents. He slipped into the first tent . There were twelve people sleeping there. He did not bother for food though he was very hungry and slept a good sleep.

He only arose when he heard voices. There were Indian soldiers talking over his head. One was asking others as to how the hell there were thirteen corpses when they had brought in only twelve.

Laughter Is the Best Medicine

Laughter is the best medicine. When I saw this title on the Reader’s Digest, it attracted me at once. It is a fact that I have lived with laughter since I was a child. Whenever, we brothers and sisters used to cry, it became routine that one of us used to crack a joke. In 9 out of 10 instances, the crying child used to join in the laughter that erupted. In the playing ground also, we used to get hurt. Somebody among us used the same medicine of cracking a joke to bring back smile in a crying face. When I became young, this shameless laughter used to mitigate our miseries for a while. Even a tragedy such as love lost ended with a Charlie Chaplin style recoup. Have you ever slipped on a busy street? People laughing all around forced you to smile back and you proceeded ahead in no time. I remember of a feature film in which a cancer patient on the operation table laughing hilariously from tingling of the fingers of a nurse who was preparing him by sponging his abdomen which needed surgery. He was cured of all his miseries. He died laughing. Have you noticed smile on a person getting relieved of all his pains, agony and misery once he dies ?

Poison Harnessed

"You only live twice:
Once when you're born
And once when you look death in the face.”
― Ian Fleming, You Only Live Twice

It was 8 PM of 21^st.October,2000. Durga Puja, the biggest festival of East India was at its peak as it was the seventh day of Navaratri. However, in Ranchi the gaiety was somewhat marred by incessant rain since last three days with a wind speed sometimes heightening to 100 KMH.   

The telephone rang. It was my Personal Officer. I was informed that there was a breach in the Phenol Pond and conveyance to fetch me would be reaching my residence any minute. I was at that time Chief of Safety, Health , Environment with additional charge of  Training and Fire Fighting Management of Foundry Forge Plant , the biggest unit of the Heavy Engineering Corporation.

At that period of time HEC was the biggest manufacturer of heavy machine and building starting from founding to finish machining. Cyclotron for Atomic Research and Launching Pads for Rockets were its latest achievements. Its coal based gas producer plant burnt  1 million Ton of coal every year to generate gas to its various units. Phenol water was the sweating of producer gas which dripped down after condensation  into the holding pits. Some of such poisonous phenol water which leaked on the 3 KM long wayside were diverted to a pond. Over last 40 years, such collection in the 40 million cubic feet capacity pond reached the brim.

Three days of incessant rains and high speed wind coupled with mouse holes into the banks had resulted in the breach at its weakest point. It was the utmost southern conic end of the triangular shaped pond. . Below some 20 feet downward there was 10 family strong village with their agricultural land. The place was around 2 Kms from my office building and had to be reached by jeep through the passage carved between foundry sand burden.

I along with the General Manager reached the spot at 8.40 and took stock of the situation. Poisonous Phenol Water was overflowing at the rate of 100 liters per minute. Since the top layer was sufficiently diluted with rain water, the poison content was down to 10% of the permissible limit.  We had to fill the broadening and deepening breach somehow within next 5 hours or the entire poisonous water would engulf the adjacent village. Though, the villagers could be evacuated within one hour, the problem was the agriculture field and the nearby Suvernrekha river.  At least 30 million cft of highly poisonous water would ruin the water body of the river killing aquatic life of any kind. It would make it unusable unless its banks were thoroughly cleaned which would take more than a year and huge manpower.

While returning back to my office, I assured the General Manager that we could manage the disaster. Since, it was Puja days and night shift only a handful of employees were on duty in emergency areas such as Producer Gas Plant, Steel Melting and the power generation. The only option left was to summon the fire fighting personnel that too only 50% of them so that the rest might be available for emergency attendance. I got  5 of them. I sent the Jeep and mustered five employees from the Safety Department who were available at their residence at that point of time. I sent the GM back to his home assuring that any untoward would be immediately informed.

Two young farmers came from the village to assist us of their own. I had 12 persons including me at the site. The bank was receiving phenol mist driven by 100+ KMH from the western side which led to the Cremation Ghats and the jungle. We were hearing jackal howls all the time. We had only three 3 battery torches with us. We had covered ourselves with rain coats but the face was itching with phenol mist all the time. Therefore , I asked everybody to keep their back towards the pond. This was going to the longest night of my on-duty life. Within the preceding hours, I had managed 5 shovels and 50 gunny bags. I left 5 persons behind to come with at least 200 more gunny bags from various units of the factory and bring with them some snacks and a container full with steaming tea. We  were ready to handle the situation by 10 PM.
The pathway above the pond was very slippery. Towards the pond side the bank was strengthened with concrete boulders at an elevation of 60 degrees. If anybody fell then there was no escape.  It was quick death with suffocation, inhalation and ingestion.  In the past, one person and three cows had lost their life.There would be no time for one to ascend the boulders in quick time or anybody to reach the drowning in quick time. The other side was quite merciful. 20 to 30 of 60 degree slope to the agricultural ground full of poisonous snakes sneaking around for mouses at the dead of night.

There was a truck load of waste sand at the SE corner of the pond which was to be the life line. Every 10 minutes 5 bags were being filled  and were being dumped into the breach which by that time was a gaping 20X15X10 with tapering 5ft deep.  We had two persons with 60 years of age due to retire within months. We had one person with cold and cough. And there was one who could not stand the howl of the jackals but was good for lighting our cigarettes and keeping us warm with tea.

We  were able to fill the breach and stop the overflow by 2.30PM. By that time our patrol team found two more spots which were vulnerable. Along with the existing one ,we also put sand bags to a height of 1 feet in all the three places to give the place the desired emergency strength. I telephoned the control room to inform the GM that the disaster had been managed.

The two retiring employees were suitable rewarded.  Thereafter, within a month, the pond was strengthened with a sand bag wall of 2 feet from all around.

The night long ordeal gave me time to think about the Phenol Pond. Later, I submitted a paper elaborating that during 40 years of its life, the pond must have received enough highly priced Creosat rich tarry residue which could be harvested gainfully. Till 2007, the pond yielded tarry residue to the tune of Rs. 20 million in 5 years. In the process the Phenol pond liquid level dropped to 50% rendering it quite safe from leak hazard.

Did I get any recognition ? I was given additional portfolio as a corporate Chief of HSE for all the three unit of the Corporation. Two years later, just after voluntary retirement I was declared  a Competent Person by the Inspectorate of Factories, Jharkhand . Thereafter, the Jharkhand State Pollution Control Board  retained me as Consultant. 

But , that day , I lived twice.I  would like to live again.

Dimensional Warp

I find a strange coincidence with the fading out of outbursts of youths particularly students with the coming up of a angry young man image on the Indian screen coupled with various course of actions taken to annihilate the bad and the corrupt. There has been a few participation from the young and the students towards correcting the incorrect after 1975 whence  “Ardh Satya” and “Janjeer” started medicating us. We have not only traversed from the era of Saigal where the lovers always maintained a respectful distance to the decade of Haashmi where physical compromise has become a must in Indian Cinema but also left behind our conscience. Most painfully, we have forgotten to correct ourselves which would eventually add up to correcting society and…..
I am again finding a painful filter in Facebook and other social networking media where people spent up their anguish and sit still. Then there are channels and newspapers inviting our angry comments. God knows, why they do it . If it is for money then from whom ?
And now there is “Shri Shri Ravi Shankar” and “Ramdev” factor which pacifies more in the same way as the above.I feel that they are taking us slowly but steadily towards our cherished goal by advising us," To do unto yourself as you wish to do unto others".
The corrupts are more active and more visible than before.
See what is happening in Bangalore and Mumbai.
We find a flicker of hope in Anna's movement.
See, what is happening to Anna group. If the cause is from within then shouldn't we leave matters for those whose gods are in the sky as we have always been doing.
How wise is that which has warped the universal dimensions dictated by time by  stretching the time strings to the extent that we always have a past to look back and a future to look for.
When India is drenched in stinking corruption, the world is inching towards something more devastating than a nuclear bomb, something more dreadful than Tsunami and something more naked than the naked truth and that is the Superstring Thoery that which if manipulated could merge past, present and the future.
And guess!  
What could that be? 
A Zero which is known to ancient Indian civilization as " SHUNYA". 

Or :-

Super-string Theory

ॐ पूर्णमदः पूर्णमिदम् पूर्णात् पूर्णमुदच्यते |
पूर्णस्य पूर्णमादाय पूर्णमेवावशिष्यते ||
ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ||
oṃ pūrṇamadaḥ pūrṇamidam pūrṇāt pūrṇamudacyate
pūrṇasya pūrṇamādāya pūrṇamevāvaśiṣyate
oṃ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ śāntiḥ
Om ! That (Brahman) is infinite, and this (universe) is infinite.
The infinite proceeds from the infinite.
(Then) taking the infinitude of the infinite (universe),
It remains as the infinite (Brahman) alone.
Om ! Peace ! Peace ! Peace !

आ बैल ! मुझे मार !

Man is the only animal for whom 

his own existence is a problem which he has to solve.

Erich Fromm

अपने देश में एक मुहावरा बहुत प्रचलित है. “बैल की तरह जोतना” . यह मुहावरा उन लोगों पर कहा जाता है जिनसे जमकर, कमर तोड़ काम लिया जाता है. यह काम शारीरिक श्रम अथवा बौद्धिक हो सकता है. चुकी मेरी सारी जिंदगी शहरी वातावरण में गुजरी इसलिए कभी बैल की जिंदगी देखने-समझने का मौक़ा नहीं मिला. भला कौन शहरी इंसान सुबह से रात तक बैल का क्रियाकलाप देखता रहना चाहेगा. पर जहां चाह है वहाँ राह भी है. मुझे यह मौक़ा सफर के दौरान मिल ही गया.

२००१ जुलाई में, मै पुणे से रांची लौट रहा था. ट्रेन से यह सफर ३६ घंटे में तय होता था. ट्रेन शाम को चलती थी और तीसरे दिन तड़के सुबह रांची पहुँचती थी. प्रसिद्ध कथाकार आर०के०नारायण की सलाह का मै अक्षरशः पालन करता हूँ. ट्रेन में मैं पढ़ने से परहेज रखता हूँ और घड़ी नहीं पहनता हूँ. ट्रेन के अंदर और बाहर इतना कुछ देखने के लिए है जो किसी भी कहानी और उपन्यास से ज्यादा रोचक होता है. और जब सफर पर है और मालूम है की ट्रेन की रफ़्तार मेरा समय तय कर रही है तो घड़ी का क्या काम. जब भूख लगे खा लिया जब नींद लगे सो लिया.और हाँ, याद रखिये, सबसे अच्छा दृश्य पौ फटते ही दिखना शुरू हो जाता है.

भारत गावों का देश है. ट्रेन जलगांव स्टेशन छोड़ चुकी थी. सुबह जैसे ही अँधेरा कम होने लगा और बाहर दिखने लगा , मैं खिड़की से सट कर बैठ गया. कहीं कहीं अभी भी दिए और लालटेन की टिमटिमाती रौशनी दिख रही थी. दूर-दूर तक हरे-भरे खेत, पेड़ों के बीच से झांकता कही एक झोपडा, कहीं तीन-चार सटे सुघड़ खपरैले घर और घरों से निकलती लकड़ी के चूल्हों का धुंआ जो पेड़ से ऊंचा जाने में घबडा रहा था. और तभी मेरी कथा का नायक दिख गया.

अन्धेरें में जितना दिख रहा था उससे लगा कि घर से सटे पेड़ की नीचे बंधे तीन-चार हरियाणवी बैल खूंटे को तोड़कर भागना चाहते थे. ट्रेन अपनी रफ़्तार से तकरीबन ८० किलोमीटर प्रति घंटे से आगे बढ़ी जा रही थी. कुछ दस मिनट बाद वैसा ही कुछ नजदीक आते गाँव में झुरमुट के पार दिखा. ओह ! बैलों को सुबह का भोजन परोसा जा रहा था और बैलों में नाद के पास पहुँचने की छटपटाहट थी. इसके बाद कुछ पचास किलोमीटर तक ऐसा ही नजारा देखने को मिला. भोजन परोसने से लेकर भर पेट खाने का सफर.

धरती के पूरब का आसमान लाल , उसके बाद नारंगी होता जा रहा था. तभी सूरज पूरी लालिमा के साथ दिखना शुरू हो गया. पेड़ और चूल्हे से उठते धुंएं से छनकर सूरज की रौशनी चारों तरफ फैलने लगी. रेल की पटरी से सटी कच्ची-पक्की सड़कों पर चहल-पहल दिखने लगी. बहुतायत उन किसानों की थी जो बैलों की जोड़ी के साथ अपने खेतों की तरफ जा रहे थे. एक्का-दुक्का, टायर वाली बैलगाडियां भी गुजर रही थीं. किसी-किसी बैलगाडी के पीछे भी एक-दो बैल बंधे जा रहे थे. कुछ तेज़ी से और कुछ बहुत तेज़ी से अपने गंतव्य की ओर बढ़ रहे थे. बैलों को तो देख कर ऐसा लग रहा था कि जैसे उन्हें खेल के मैदान में जाने और खेलने की जल्दी हो. एक जोड़ी बैल तो बच्चों की तरह रस्सी छुडाकर भाग रहे थे और उनका मालिक पीछे-पीछे दौड रहा था. लग रहा था जैसे सबलोग बहुत खुश थे.

सूरज निकले १५ मिनट हो चुका था. चारों तरफ दूर-दूर तक केवल खेत ही खेत दिख रहे थी, कुछ जो जुत चुके थे, कुछ जिन्हें और जोतना बाकी था और कुछ अनछूए. कहीं बैलों पर हल चढाने की कोशिश हो रही थी. बैल बच्चों जैसे भागम-भाग कर रहे थे जैसा अक्सर कपड़े या जूते पहनाने के समय करते हैं. कहीं जोतना शुरू हो गया था. किसान और बैल दोनों में तेज़ी साफ़-साफ़ दिख रही थी. ऐसा कुछ अगले पांच घंटे दिखता रहा. जैसे-जैसे दिन चढ रहा था तेज़ी में कमी झलकने लगी थी.

ट्रेन में जब हमलोगों को खाना सर्व किया जा रहा था उस समय बैल पेड़ की छाँव में बैठ कर जुगाली करते और उनके मालिक खाना खाते दिख रहे थे.औरतें रंगीन कपड़े पहने चहलकदमी करती दिख रहीं थीं. कहीं-कहीं बच्चे भी खेलते दिख रहे थे. खाना खाने के बाद, मुझे झपकी आ गयी. दो घंटे बाद जब पुनः बाहर नजर गयी तो देखा किसान और उसके बैल दोनों मंथर गति से खेत जोत रहे थे. सूरज डूब रहा था. मैं थोड़ी नजदीकी और अच्छे से देखने के लिए कोरिडोर वाले सीट पर बैठ गया.

ट्रेन के बगल-बगल पक्की सड़क थी. उसपर दो-तीन बैलगाडियों में लगता था जैसे रेस लगी हो. बैल तो खुद तेज़ी से दौड ही रहे थे साथ-साथ गाडीवान उन्हें और तेज़ी से दौड़ने को उकसा रहे थे. बैलों के गले में बंधी घंटी सुनकर पैदल चलने वाले सावधान होते जा रहे थे. साइकिल सवार पीछे छूटते जाते थे और स्कूटर/बाइक को आगे रहने के लिए कुछ ज्यादा तेज चलाना पड़ रहा था.अँधेरा होते-होते सभी अपने घर पहुँच चुके थे. कहीं-कहीं तो बैलो को भोजन दिया भी जा चुका था. तभी रायपुर स्टेशन पहुँचने लगा.

स्टेशन से कुछ आधे घंटे बाद गाँवों की टिमटिमाती रौशनी फिर दिखने लगी. कहीं-कहीं बिजली के बल्ब की रौशनी भी थी. बैल घर से सटे पेड़ के नीचे या शेड के नीचे बैठ कर जुगाली कर रहे थे अथवा सो चुके थे. 
बचपन  में मुझे बछड़ों के साथ खेलने-खिलाने का बहुत अवसर मिला है जब मैं सामने दूध दुहवा कर ग्वालों के तबेले में जाता था. मैंने ग्वालों को गाय और बछड़ों को दूर मैदान में घांस चराते भी देखा है जहां बछड़े चरते कम और अपनी माँ के साथ खिलवाड ज्यादा करते थे. मैंने ट्रेन से स्टेशन आउटर पर एक कट कर मरे हुए बैल के मांस की बांटा-बांटी भी देखी है. 
आज शायद बैल की आत्मकहानी पूरी होती मालूम हुई. मुझे तो बैल अपनी जिंदगी से बहुत खुश दिखे.

रात को नींद में बैल महाशय का आगमन हुआ. बात शुरू करने की खातिर मैंने उससे पूछा कि के वह बैल की जिंदगी से तंग नहीं आ चुका है और क्या वह अगली बार मनुष्य का जीवन जीना चाहेगा ? उसने घूम कर अपनी गेंद जैसी बड़ी आँखों से मुझे से देखा . ऐसा लगा जैसे मैंने उसे उकसा दिया हो,” आ बैल ! मुझे मार ! उसने कुछ ही क्षणों में मुझे लज्जित कर दिया. उसे मनुष्य की जिंदगी सबसे नीचे दर्जे की लगती थी. जो उसने कहा उसपर आप भी गौर कीजिये.

"मैं जितना लेता हूँ उससे कहीं ज्यादा देता हूँ. मैं तुमलोगों से जो बचता है और जिसे तुम फेंकने के अलावा और कुछ नहीं कर सकते उसीसे पेट भरता हूँ. मैं श्रम और पसीने की कमाई पर कायम हूँ. मैं कभी बीमार नहीं पड़ता. अगर पड़ता भी हूँ तो तुमलोगों की ज्यादती से. मैं कभी बूढा नहीं होता. यह भी तुम्हारी ही मेहरबानी है. तुमलोग उससे पहले ही मुझे मारकर अपना भोजन बना लेते हो. मेरे समाज में दुराचार नहीं है, व्याभिचार नहीं है, अत्याचार नहीं है. मैं तुम्हारी तरह कुछ भी बचा कर नहीं रखता जबकि तुम बचाते और संचय करते-करते मर जाते हो फिर भी तुम्हारा लालच कायम रहता है. तुम सदैव विषमता में हो. मै सदैव सत्-चित-आनंद में हूँ."

मैं घबड़ा कर नींद से जागकर उठ बैठा. मुझसे किसी ने कुछ ही दिन पहले पूछा था कि मैं अगले जन्म में क्या बनना चाहूंगा. और मैंने तपाक से जवाब दिया था कि मैं मनुष्य और मैं ही बनना चाहूँगा. आखिर मै भी सबकी तरह अपने को सबसे ज्यादा पसंद और प्यार करता हूँ.
एक दूसरी सुबह हो रही थी. ट्रेन अपने मुकाम पर पहुँच चुकी थी. पर मैंने अबतक अपने गंतव्य को न जाना था, न पहचाना था और न तरीके से कोशिश की थी. पर एक बात सो बिलकुल साफ़ नज़र आती है. जैसे कौवे, सूअर, बैल, कुत्ते को अपनी जिंदगी ही सबसे अच्छी लगती है वैसे ही मनुष्य को भी चाहे वह भिखारी हो या राजा हो.
मैं कुछ वर्ष चिन्मय मिशन के साप्ताहिक स्वाध्याय में भी जाता था जहां अंत में एक सामूहिक प्रण किया जाता था पर उस प्रण पर चलते न तो स्वाध्याय में भाग लेने वालों पाता था न तो अपने आस-पास के लोगों में ! आप स्वयं उस प्रण पर कितना खरा उतरते हैं जांच लीजिए :- 

The Chinmaya Mission Pledge 

We stand as one family, 
bound to each other, 
with love and respect.
We serve as an army, 
courageous and disciplined, 
ever ready to fight against, 
all low tendencies and false values, 
within and without us.
We live honestly the noble life of 
sacrifice and service, 
producing more than 
what we consume,
and giving more than what we take.
We seek the Lord’s Grace
to keep us on the path of 
virtue, courage and wisdom.
May Thy grace and blessings flow 
through us to the world around us.
We believe that 
the service of our country
is the service of the Lord of Lords, 
And the devotion to the people is 
the devotion to the Supreme Self.
We know our responsibilities, 
give us the ability and the 
courage to fulfill them.

OM TAT SAT