Election Campaigning...!

It happened 2 days before the election morning...!

A group of some political party workers was at the gate of a street with some pamphlet, mike and loud-speaker with a view to advertise their party; but they couldn't enter the street due to barking dogs. They tried to shove the dogs off but the dogs were not ready to consider the defeat and continued barking. One tried to hustle them with the stick of their party flag, but the dogs torn the flag. One of them tried stone, but it too proved insatiable...! After the great conflict of about 5-7 minutes, they decided to skip the street for their propaganda...! May be the dogs were blessed with the special ability to key out their dishonesty and fraudulence…!!!

May everyone be consecrated with the ability to identify the corrupt and crooked politicians to boot them out and elect the most suitable and well-disposed candidate by their precious vote...!

< H P >

The joy of making your beloved one cry

Some special moments in the life are always unforgettable. Some memories will surely cry your eyes out. But the moments which gratify your soul in spite of your wet eyes are the real assets of your life. Some felicities of life can’t be expressed by words, and if one gets the words, he is not always able to express them. At this point these words are always expressed by oozing tears. The fourth dimension also becomes fascinating when the dream for which you are eagerly waiting to come true turns into reality. This moment is always miraculous, it is always ecstatic. The moment when you feel that you have achieved almost everything and there is no more expectation from life, will hardly come to your life.

 

Just try to remember that which is the best moment of your life? We always recur the spoilt moments of our life, but if we want to make our life more enjoyable then the recurrence of good memories is the prerequisite. Some lamentable pages of your life are always better to be torn. Erstwhile, it was a ritual that when one obtained a letter having news of someone’s death, the letter was torn immediately after reading it. In the same manner the sad pages should be destroyed. The recurrence of the beaming pages into the soul is as necessary. Once the dream or a goal is achieved, it should be repeated. Never get satisfied of your first success otherwise if you don’t succeed in the repetitive chances then people will believe that the success in the first chance was just a fluke. When you succeed in the first attempt, people will think that you are lucky. But if you convert every opportunity into the outcome, then only the world will accept that you deserve that. Just remember the moments when u got succeed. How happy you were! How blithely people were congratulating you! How happily people were felicitating you! Just determine that you want to live that moment time and again. Also remember that whose eyelids were drenched of tears…! Your success does not always belong to you alone; the satisfaction of your success may be overflowing in someone else’s eyes, too. When your parents, siblings, friends or beloved ones pat on your back and tell you that they are proud of you; then just undoubtedly believe that their wishes are also fulfilled with your own dreams.

When the pleasure of your achievement makes someone’s face brighter; then it gives you one kind of inner gratification. If you want to see your beloved ones happy, then always try to convert their wish into reality that they expect from you. If someone has seen the dream for you; then consider yourself a lucky chap, because someone is surely waiting for the moment when he will find his life purposeful only for seeing you to be the achiever.

It is not always necessary that you get succeed in every aspects of your life. Sometimes, you have to bury all your dreams and you have to be satisfied only with what you have. Sometimes you need someone to sit beside you, to console you and to promise you that he will come upon all your desires. Sometimes you need a shoulder on which you can keep your head and cry freely. Sometimes a person needs a close friend to hug, the sigh of relief at this moment becomes the most comfortable. When someone assures you to make all your dreams to come true, you can’t genuinely avoid rain to lavish from your eyes. At such time, only your eyes speak. And when your eyes speak, your words become soundless. Your speech becomes derogative in front of your feelings.

It is always out of the question to treat someone else’s dream as your own dream. But if true feeling is there; then it is also not impossible. Just close your eyes for a bit and try to remember when you made your beloved ones cry by your solacing behavior??? We can easily make someone cry by hurting him; but sometimes just try to make someone’s eyelid wet by this means and see how satisfactorily that teardrop comforts your restlessness…!!!

< H P >

The Zip

"May I help you sir?" The attendant asked us with the typical plastic smile of a salesman, at the pantaloons store in the Iskcon Mall, Surat.
"I want to buy a jeans pant." My friend humbly asked.
"What is her waist size?"
"Her…? Excuse me… I’m not going to buy it for my girlfriend, I need it for myself." My friend shouted.
"I am sorry sir but this is the ladies section." He cleared his point, and pointed, “You may go that side, sir.” I’ll take you there.

I instantly cleared my throat, thank you for embarrassing, I thought while he continued.
"Please follow me this way sir." He leaded us like the commander leading the soldiers.
We followed.

After perusing a heap of jeans, we finally got what we wanted. The texture, the clothing, the color, the fitting everything was just perfect for my friend. We knew our shopping was done. Out of curiosity my friend thought of checking it out one final time. And that was when he found the zip was not working…

“WTF…!” He must have mumbled.

Believe me had it been anything else, he might have still thought of buying that rare looking jeans but the zip… No way was he ready to go public with his stuff.
"Could you please give me another of this thing?" He asked the attendant.
"Sorry sir we got only one piece."
"But the zip isn't working."
"If you give us two days we can provide you with another piece of this type."
"All right. We'll come in the week end."
"Sure sir, Thank you."
 
Dejected I stepped out of the mall and as we took our bike for home, a thought flashed into my idle mind: How amazing it is that we come to learn about some valuable morals of the human life by connecting the daily silly routine experiences with the virtuousness

“No matter how good a pant is…!! If the zip doesn't work ... nothing works.”
Something inside me immediately replaced the word pant with person and zip with character.

Life is Cricket

The IPL-5 fever has been spread throughout the country and everyone is very much excited about this session, expecting something more groundbreaking and thrilling. “How nice it would be, this emerging upshot be the topic of my next blog…” I thought.

If there is any game which is a true reflection of life, it’s cricket. Each one of us is born within a ‘stadium’ which is unique in its own way. At first we watch our parents and then comes our turn. The ‘pitch’ (LIFE itself) given to us is somewhat related to the ‘stadium’ in which we are born. Whether the relation is directly or indirectly proportional depends upon the ‘3rd umpire’ (GOD!). Other than the 3^rd, here also there are two umpires on field. The first one stands facing us – ‘Mr. Destiny’. Second one stands at square leg – ‘Mr. Time’. Consider them neutral but only at your own risk…!

The pitch given to each one of us is generally different (no matter what your skills are or what kind of person you are). That’s the monopoly our ‘3rd umpire’ has…!

There are pitches which are flat. On such pitches every ball (OPPORTUNITY) comes on to the bat (IN OUR LIFE) quite easily. The batsman only has to touch the ball and it goes to the fence like lightening!

Then there are pitches where it’s very difficult to play in the beginning because of its clumsiness. But steadily and surely as the batsman, with dogged determination, gets used to the pitch (life) he starts scoring and more often than not goes on to play a good knock.

There are also pitches which initially look flat but later become cumbersome to bat on. Immense pressure builds up and ultimately the batsman perishes. These batsmen are like Mirages – they promise a lot initially but rarely deliver.

Lastly there are pitches where every ball right from start is sharp and dangerous. It’s a pitch where every out-swinging ball eventually in-swings and the stumps (HOPES, ASPIRATIONS) goes for a toss. But only this kind of pitch has the potential to produce memorable innings. Such a pitch improves the batsman’s skill, makes him more focused, concretes his determination, develops his patience and cultivates in him all the right ingredients to make a legend! This is the pitch that teaches us a simple fact: sometimes staying at the ‘crease’ and facing the heat is also important.

Life is a T20 game where every ball (OPPORTUNITY) counts. We cannot afford to defend unnecessarily as we are never sure of the number of overs allotted to us. So it becomes all the more mandatory to make every ‘over’ (CHANCE) count and KEEP SCORING...!!!

The journey in train…

“Garam Garam masaaledaar daal, Kacchi keri wali chane ki daal…!” The shout with an idyllic smell rushed me back to life, when I was sleeping on the upper berth of the train, like a corpse. My mind was agitated with a little choler. Actually, I hate it when someone awakens me from the sleep. The train was shaking as it does threaten to derail. Then, it was an oscitance, which made my neighbor passenger yawn.

It’s always a thrill to travel by a train, especially during the holidays, I solaced my heart. Such things are very normal when you are travelling in a long-route train, especially without reservation. “All izz well”, I encouraged myself to endure such shocks. After all, “Aise bade-bade desh me, aisi chhoti-chhoti baatein to hoti rehti hai…”

The destination was far enough and I had no option except indulging in the fantasy. The coach was full of noisy, crowded humans. The waste-papers and the wrappers were laid like snow in Antarctica. To see the broken emergency windows, improperly dangling chain-pulling handles, folded and forcefully tucked chocolate wrappers in the mesh behind the upper berths was not new for my eyes. The vulgar writings and nonsense drawings, the names of persons written with lissome curves, either on the walls or seats, are always fun to see.

Suddenly my eyes were spellbound to a duo of execrable kids, with a couple of stones, to produce melodious music, in their hands. Their shrimpy pants and torn long shirts couldn’t remain beyond my attention. Their dusty brown hair, yellow teeth, lacerated sleepers and torn shirt-pockets made my heart miserable. Obviously, it wasn’t the first time I was watching such sight, but, this time my heart was a little bit more threatened. They were singing a song in each compartment and then demanding for a petty of money. “Is this the situation that prevails in most of the rural parts of the country???” The thought distressed my mind. “Is that the age of these poor children to earn, in such deplorable way??”, “Don’t they deserve even a prosperous life??”, “Is this the time for them, to hold stones, for a trifle coins, instead of the marbles to play…!!!” The questions were screwing my mind.

On the spur of the moment, my eyes fixed on another handicap teenager cleaning the floor, with a great difficulty, with his own t-shirt. I couldn’t continue my gaze with his pitiful eyes. I sighed. All I could do was nothing except giving them some coins from my pocket. I had to give an I-can’t-help-anymore expression.

I just tried to relieve my mind. I began to think about some happy-unhappy moments during my journeys in the train, but the shouts in the hoarse voices of the persons, on the back berth were forbidding me from that. They were bullshitting on some political topic, which was completely out of my understanding. The lady, sitting on the front-below seat was cumulatively staring at me with a don’t-look-at-me manifestation. The another disturbing factor was the loud noise of a song, ‘Sheila ki jawaani…’, played by some youngster in his China mobile.

I continued my conversation with myself, obviously with a great trouble. Sometimes, the train becomes the reunion place for long lost friends. Sometimes, the train becomes an unforgettable place for them, who find their life-partners in the train (I’ve plenty of examples.) Sometimes, you discover the ways of how-to-initiate-talk-with-an-unknown-girl here. Sometimes, you find out the ways how-to-ignore-nonsense-talk with some tattling persons. Sometimes, we meet the persons who never buy the newspaper themselves, and always ask it from someone else. There is also no inadequacy of the person, who is used to ask ‘which-station-came’ again and again. It’s also very common to endure some people who have developed a great interest in wrangling for a little space on someone else’s seat.

Sometimes, we have to endure some persons, who will bring us headache by their soporific talks. Sometimes, we have no one around us to cut the time. Sometimes, the rush is too much, that one has to put his luggage on someone else’s feet, and one cannot find space even to raise his hand to itch his neck. The ability and the swiftness, by which a tea/vada paw vendor finds his way in such rabble, always fascinates me.

Sometimes, someone find an unknown friend, who tells one to buy the tickets, and then they travel together and after that chatter; they may become very close buddies. They may even remember each other for their whole life.

While I was theorizing all these things, a bang made me awaken. It was nothing else, but a blasting clap of a eunuch. Then I had to think about another exciting factor, one can easily find in the train, the eunuchs. Their man-like look, dark colored lipstick, gruff voice, almost counterfeit tone of speaking and their ability to slap anyone very easily can make anyone frighten of them. I was too. But suddenly, I remembered a conversation of my friend with such a eunuch, which brought a little grinning on my face. The conversation was:

Eunuch: ‘Abey chikney, chal nikaal naa…, kya bhav kha raha hai…’ 
Friend: ‘Mere paas kuch nahi hai…’

Eunuch: ‘Mere paas bhi kuch bhi nahi hai…!!!’

Just before he/she (no idea) reached to me, I reached my destination. I was just happy, as I had not to face him, at least that day.

One more important thing I forgot to describe, I like the most about train, is to look the world out of the window. The meadows and farms rushed past amaze me a lot. The window in the train is not an ordinary window; it is a window to the richness and diversity of India. Of course looking out of the window has other advantage; it tells you that you are getting closer and closer to your destination.

How vegetation, terrain, people change effortlessly as one passes through the country in a train is an amazing spectacle. Nothing provides a more complete panorama of India as the window of the train does. To understand what real India is, I reflect, one must travel in a train.

Finally, I must give credit to that special friend, who also came in my contact while travelling in the train, and on whose suggestion, I have written about my experiences in the train, only for my time-pass.