Shri Hiranand Varnamala

क से कर्म का भूला प्राणी है,
ख से खाली हाथों जाना है,
ग से गर्व न करना इस दुनिया में आकर,
घ से घर का नहीं ठिकाना है,
ड़ अंगा को रचा रहा है।

च से चंचल मन ये डोलत है,
छ से छल का भरा ये चोला है,
ज से जान के क्यों बौराना है,
झ से झक मारेगा एक दिन तू,
क्योंकि ञ से यहाँ हाथ मसल रह जाना है।

ट से टाल समय कुछ आगे का,
ठ से क्यों ठगी मैं तू दीवाना है,
ड से डोले जब देह जमके ,
ढ से ढूंढे मिले ना ठिकाना है,
ण से ऋण सना है जीवन ये तेरा।

त से त्याग सभी को जाना है,
थ से थके ना तृष्णा पल भर भी ये,
द से दिल के बिषयों को मार भगाना है,
ध से धर्मी वही जो धर्म करे,
क्योंकि न से नाहक धन को पाना है।

प से पंचतत्व हैं ये अलग-अलग,
फ से फँस जायेगा पंछी अकेला,
ब से बिबस हुआ अब तू मंथन में,
भ से भजन बिना केवल पछताना है,
म से मात-पिता तू सबको जान।

य से यत्न आगे गर कुछ करना है,
र से रंग लो चोला हरी चरणों में,
ल से लग्न से प्रभु को पाना है,
व से वक़्त की क्या तज़बीज़ करें ।

श से शाम-सुबह होती नित-प्रत्य,
ष से सेक है तेरे मन में  प्यारी,
स से सगुण से निर्गुण को पाना है,
ह से हर्ष-विषाद से सब विवाद हैं ।

क्ष से क्षण में परिवर्तन हो जाना है,
क्योंकि त्रिया समान जल जायेगा ये जीवन तेरा,
ज्ञ से ज्ञानी का यही तो कहना है ।

श्री १०८ हीरानंद महाराज, पीली कोठी ।
सुशिष्य श्री श्री १००८ देवानंद जी महाराज ।।

Destroying a pathetic life

A man should not be judged by the amount of pity, he invokes for somebody, nor from the amount of empathy professed by him during miserable times of life of a downtrodden human. We never give any heed to genuine heart wrenching feelings of ours towards our fellow brethren. We pity people out of our sadistic approach of enjoying other people's miseries.

"oh! What a pity? What a poor man, he is. Earlier he had so much" Satisfied, I am now.

"Oh! What a pity? He has become so old and weak. Earlier he could fight a bull." Satisfied, I am now.

"Oh! What a pity? That dog is so pathetic. Earlier he was shiny and gay." Satisfied, I am now.

"Oh! Can I help you in some way. You never needed it earlier." Satisfied, I am now.

"Let me boost his morale, so that he can do something for himself."" Why?"  you ask?"Because I motivated him"

Bullshit all bullshit, and more. A man should be judged by the number of people, whose lives he has destroyed. Made their pathetic lives more pathetic, by not pitying them and giving them his true self, which every man deserves, being of greatest creation of that even more woebegone god.

Let me give you an example. A cook who is so pathetic, that he cannot even make a clear soup, should never be commended for his mediocrity, which we always almost do and see ourselves in high esteem for the gesture we have shown towards the poor bugger. I was once served a sumptuous meal of grilled fish in a nondescript town. It was so delicious, it felt like honey in texture and that aromatic tangy flavor of mustard in which it was marinated was truly unrivaled. It truly made me lascivious.

But then, as is my wont, I asked for the chef or rather the cook, which he was when he arrived. He was a boy of not more than seventeen. Clad in his dirty brown apron, he arrived apologetic, but confident that if confronted on the quality of the food, he will be pitied by his co-workers and manager, and eventually by the obnoxious me too. I praised him for his stupendous performance and he could see the true me, by the satisfied grin on my face. But he was so taken aback by this sudden event that he could only mutter a very ashamed, "It doesn't matter." and a very meek, "Thank you sir." And off went the little pathetic bugger.

But I was sure that his life will become more pathetic and will be completely destroyed in due course of time, if intermingled with mind altering substances. He was a contended boy thinking he amounted to nothing and now somebody called him out to praise him for simply something he is entitled to do in lieu of a meager sum of money. That remuneration will never be enough now. There it is destroyed, his peace, his contentment and his sense of pride will alienate him from the rest of the crew. He will be forced to look for that pride again and again, till it becomes a personality trait of him and no longer a one-ff thing.

Maybe, he will never be able to achieve it, but for the time being , till he understands the complete notion of it, he will be a mere mongrel in this world of wannabe pedigreed dogs.

Learning to ride a bike

I have been trying to learn riding a bike from the last 3 years and every summer holidays it is on the top of my priority list. I reserve the summers for this activity because I don’t want to go to school limping all the way. My Dad’s old bicycle is reserved for the purpose and I am careful in padding my knees with my mother’s old saree for the purpose. My elder brother has his own bike and he is allowed to go anywhere he wants on that. My sister is 4 years younger than me, but she also rides a bike and is a contender of getting a new one before the summer vacations end.

I am the only one who cannot get a hang of it, even after trying it numerous times. This one time, I was so close to riding it on my own. Dad gave me a push and I thought I had finally broken the code. But as soon as the momentum died down and I gave it a single paddle to make it go on, I was going out of the road. I could see Dad running towards me, out of the corner of my eyes, but I knew he won’t be able to reach me on time. So I thought of taking it towards an electric pole, on which I could hang on and let the bike go, wherever it wanted to. I threw my arms in the air to get hold of the pole, but instead of my arms, my nose got in contact with the pole.This one other time, a complete one year after the pole incident, I was pushed again and I went a full kilometre unassisted. But then 2 pedestrians came into my sight and I can swear that the bike aimed itself on their feet and brought all of us to the ground.

Today I got the bike out and asked Dad to give me a push and added that if I don’t ride back on this thing back to the house, he can very well disown me. Lalu was there to see it and he knew about the pedestrian incident last summer. So, he was naturally excited to see the end result of this new found courage of mine. The whole pack was running around me, when I turned the corner. I could feel the bike trying to hit one of the puppies at all times and at one time it started to go after Lalu also, but I controlled it at the last moment. I went the full circle and was finally home before it could hurt anybody and I think I have finally mastered it. I am confident because, first of all I did not allow it to hit any of the dogs and last of all because I was unfazed by the constant barking.

Lalu came in the evening, well after the time, I bring rotis out to feed the dogs. He was the only one absent from the pack. I was busy with putting ice-cubes into the shirts of unsuspecting boys, sitting on the kerb in front of our garden, when I saw Lalu from a distance. He came directly into the garden instead of rounding up the whole pack, which he usually does every evening. He looked tired, so I just fed him and let him be.

Goblins and souls

This morning we went back to the jungle to gather some berries and to see if I could get hold of a parakeet. The Hajmola thing was still fresh in my mind, so was extra careful, to not step over them. There was this big tree which has all dried up and most of it is hollow. Now I know from my experience that parakeets are really cranky when you go near them. So, to avoid getting bitten like the last time I tried this, I had taken with me a pair of gloves. I got up the tree, and perching myself safely over a branch, I inserted my full arm inside the hole. All I got hold was a bluish green egg. I peeped inside to get a better view after putting the egg back.

There was a pair of piercing eyes staring directly into my soul from the darkness of the hole. All I can remember now is half falling and half climbing down the tree and running directly towards home. All the dogs were in great confusion, so they stopped mid-way to return to the jungle to ascertain fully the gravity of the situation. I am not sure how many them, will I be able to see ever again.

I told Mom all about it. She was not very helpful as she told me it was probably an owl. After trying to convince her otherwise, I promised myself never to return to that jungle again.

See, the thing about these goblins is that they can assume any form they want to, so from now on; I have to be extra careful. I just hope that having returned its egg safely I wouldn’t have to worry about it sneaking on me from behind. All I could think of during the whole night was my dogs getting their souls snatched from them. Finally I had to go to my parents’ room to ask if dogs have souls. She said, “They don’t”. That was a relief and I could finally sleep.

Where Hojmola comes from

Whenever Dad threw us kids out before sunrise for our morning jogs, I am the only kid in my family, who is not grumpy. My neighbourhood is plagued with stray mongrels and they always wreck havoc in the mornings, frightening even the grownups. Ladies of my neighbourhood who have the immensity of waking up at 5.00 in the morning and fetching milk from the numerous home dairies in nearby village are the victims most of the times, some of whom always spill milk, while shaking off these mongrels off them.

But I am always at ease among these vicious conspirators against humanity, most of whom I know by their names. Names I have given them. One hefty dog, which is considered the king of the pack, is named Lalu, owing to its lustrous reddish brown color. But my father suspects my inspiration for the name. He told me that you cannot name a dog after a person. But, I am sticking to the name. Anyways, lalu is unlikely to come in contact a lot with my father, and even if he does, it’s not as if lalu is going to introduce himself by his first name. There are five puppies too, whom I took to a tank nearby today to teach them swimming. When I threw them in the muddy water, taking a cue from my own first lessons in swimming, they started swimming like professionals. I think those puppies had taken their basic lessons before I got acquainted with them.

While returning from the tank we all went to a jungle nearby, through which a big canal flows. There are a lot of rabbits living there among the grasses on either side of the canal. My idea was to hunt a rabbit, so that the whole pack could enjoy some fresh meat, excluding me off-course. But the thing is that they were way too fast for any of us. By the time we reached near a hole, they were gone only to peep out of some other hole 50 meters away. Then we found a lot of hajmolas lying on the grass, and that how I knew, where they came from. Though I could not find a tree on which these grew.

I gathered myself a fistful. The time I was about to taste my first, I remembered what Mom was telling me the other day about not eating one before a wholesome breakfast. I am fortunate that I listened to my Mom’s advice today, because in the evening, there was this chapter in my biology book about rabbits eating their own faeces and how it looks like hajmola.

the new breed authors

I am not exactly a fan of Chetan Bhagat. But one can not deny the kind of inspiration he has become to new and talented writers. I had the great fortune to read one of them during my last train journey. I had my copy of Naseeruddin Shah's Biography to help me through the 24 hour ordeal. I was hoping that eight hours will be lost in sleeping and the book will keep me company for six hours at least, so I was good to go. But it was one of those rare journeys where you are allowed to keep the lights on for a considerable period of dark hours. So was done with Naseer's book before going to sleep. My first reaction after waking up was as always to empty my bowels while smoking a cigarette, which I am not allowed at home. (The cigarette part, not emptying).
My second concern was to get a book to read to pass the whole day's journey ahead. Now there is a thing about railway stations, that you don't stop a lot and book stalls are mostly near the entrance. If you are lucky enough, there may be some vendor just outside your car. So I guess, it was my lucky day and after much scrutiny and suggestions by the vendor, Seeing Chetan's face on the covers of more than half of the books and much haggling over the price, I got myself a copy of, I don't remember the name of the book, though.
It was co-written (cliche) by Nikita Singh and a boy writer with an amazing boyish charm. (Going by the photograph at the back cover). Nikita Singh too looks like a promising writer. But lets not judge a book by its back-cover. So here I was reading a major national best-seller (cliche again, not sure but I have gathered from somewhere that books selling 10,000 copies in a country of 1.25 billion, are best sellers).

So the story goes like this....Some ugly duckling is changed into a princess in matter of two chapters. She craves for love inspired by her sister's love story, even after being heartbroken in school by a Micky mouse who used her to get his home work done. (This devil has a policy of throw and use towards the girls).
Prince charming comes along to re-kindle those long lost feelings, only to get busted. He turns out to be her sister's ex-lover, who also got physical with her. (Revealed in the last few chapters, as if the reader didn't get it in the beginning).

Another rugged prince is waiting in the college, with a past. Quiet don't remember why he turned the way he was, except that he was fond of motorcycles and his father was not. In comes the friendly mouse who gets himself killed between this love triangle cum maze of prince charming, rugged prince and duckling turned beauty.

All the air is cleared, friendly mouse's dream of winning a football cup for his college is fulfilled by prince rugged and prince charming is allowed to go into the sunset to straighten things with Karma  with his fancy cars and two lovers are content for the time being. THE END.

I don't understand, why these books are allowed to be sold and why people at penguin are so blind.But going by the ratings and list of books. the voracious authors have read, as shown on goodreads and others websites, what more can one expect.

soldiers and lone rangers

We all have memories of some long forgotten chapters of our lives, which bring back an ecstatic feeling. I don’t know whether the feeling can be narrowed down to ecstasy or it is a river of emotions. It is the kind of mixed feeling when you eyes are a bit wet, but your heart is happy and it keeps pounding. Your hands are trembling and your hairs are standing.

There is the first kiss…..oh it’s so sweet always, as I have been by a lot of people. Then there is our first time sex. Mine I clearly remember, I was smiling like a fool the whole time, while pushing it in, stopping only after I got a tight playful slap. I was joyful and triumphant at the same time, thinking mine was the first one there. I don’t know what gives men this feeling of victory being the first one.

There is one encounter which completely surpasses all the others. It is of men in uniform bidding farewell to their families at the railway station. We are shown this in a lot of movies and described a lot in our popular culture. I haven’t seen many such scenes in real life, but they always crop up in movies here and there, just to get the kind of feeling I am talking about here, out of the audiences’ system. Train is about to leave, an infant is being handed over by the father to it’s mother, a son is taking blessing from his old father touching his feet, another one is hugging his sisters advising her to do well in exams, yet another one is wiping his mothers tears.  A very emotional music is in the air, making you forget of all the hullabaloo of any given railway station, anywhere in the world.

These are the men in uniform parting with their families, only to return 6 months later and repeat the process all over again. Do we really need to glamorize this such an extent, that when these men in uniform return to their bases and encounter such scenes in a movie, they are actually ashamed of themselves for not getting the kind of treatment they deserve, going by the movies.

Has anyone given a thought to the lonely small time businessman, going out of his home, for maybe a year or more? He will be staying in a dingy hotel room, with no place to go if he is free and has no work till the next meeting, because he cannot waste money. He will be tempted to enjoy some other woman’s company to forget his loneliness but will be stopped by the memories of his lovely wife and his kid.