Let go, and Rejoice

 

तेन त्यक्तेन भुञ्जीथा (Tena Tyaktena Bhunjitha): Let go, and Rejoice

- ईशावास्य उपनिषद (Ishavasya Upnishad)

Says to me, a small voice,

Let go, and Rejoice,

Twenty, twenty three,

Will set you free.

Happy New Year.

To you,

And your near and dear.

I'll rain stars, Jupiter said

 

The moon was floating

Over my sleepy home and world.

It whispered to Jupiter,

The Cosmic Santa Claus:

What gifts do you bear

For the earth, my friend?

I'll rain stars, Jupiter said,

Catch one,

And make a wish.

The Darkling Thrush flings his soul again.

 

This poem was written by Thomas Hardy at the cusp of the 20th century, during 1899 to be exact. He wrote about the dying century and the surrounding gloom relieved only by the cheery thrush's 'illimited' song of joy.

The darkling thrush flings his soul again to relieve the gathering gloom surrounding the ebbing 2022.

The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate

When Frost was spectre-grey,

And Winter's dregs made desolate

    The weakening eye of day.

The tangled bine-stems scored the sky

    Like strings of broken lyres,

And all mankind that haunted nigh

    Had sought their household fires.

The land's sharp features seemed to be

    The Century's corpse outleant,

His crypt the cloudy canopy,

    The wind his death-lament.

The ancient pulse of germ and birth

    Was shrunken hard and dry,

And every spirit upon earth

    Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among

    The bleak twigs overhead

In a full-hearted evensong

    Of joy illimited;

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt and small,

    In blast-beruffled plume,

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

    Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings

    Of such ecstatic sound

Was written on terrestrial things

    Afar or nigh around,

That I could think there trembled through

    His happy good-night air

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

    And I was unaware.

There's no one here like you

You've become a star

In a galaxy far away.

Hold on,

I'll walk the few light years,

But I'll be there.

Keep twinkling,

Show me the way.

There's no one here,

Like you.

Time to be jolly

Christmas came early,

Time to be jolly.

One Rank, One Pension,

No virus, no tension. 

Today is 23, next year is 23

 

Today's date

Is tomorrow's year,

That today's fear,

Be tomorrow's dear,

Dear God,

Help me to steer.

Messi...Ah!

 

Did He create the beautiful game?

Did He send His messenger?

Messi...Ah!

All we know is:

Christmas came early,

For the Latinos.

And the Gauls dreamed a dream,

Like Les Misérables.

It is past the hour

Like fireflies,

The lights from mobiles,

Are waves in the dark stadium,

The audience has gone wild,

It is past the hour.

This is my swan song,

And it ends softly,

A hush descends

Over the stadium,

I wish they would ask 

For an encore,

I'll sing it one more time.

But, it is past the hour. 

There's still a tear unborn

 

Don't sing that song,

Don't sing it yet.

Hold me, hold on,

There's still a tear unborn,

Don't let it roll, don't let.

Don't sing that song,

That makes me cry.

Don't sing it yet.

After you left

 

Last night,

The stars stopped their chatter,

The moon crumbled.

Last night,

The night went on and on,

After you left.

Wait is the other word for love

Wait is a word for eternity,

Wait is another word for Time,

Wait is unrequited love,

And, 

Wait is the other word for love. 

The Universe is blighted

 

The sun is rusty today,

And the moon is dusty.

The blight has travelled far,

Right up to the pole star.

The Big Bang consumed all love

 

The Big Bang consumed all love,

To create the Universe.

The Universe expanded,

And happiness expanded,

With the Universe,

Engulfing all.

But happiness is not

The same thing as love.

Odd dates

 

My drinking buddy sent me this message that I do not visit the Madhushaala on these days.

I found the dates odd.

So I wrote to my friend, 'These are odd dates.'

*Madhushaala: Tavern

When the earth turns to vapour

 

When the earth turns to vapour,

Due to global warming,

Will my heart melt?

Or, will it be sublimation?

And, I will know no pain,

In the transition?

The foam rises

 

The foam rises

From my heart,

And, I think,

It is of my mouth.

Near the crackling fire

For Col Ajaypal Singh Attre, a coursemate.

What's on the other side,

I do not know.

May you find a place

Near the crackling fire,

And the friends who went ahead

With a bottle of Rum

(Whatever it's called there).

Don't worry too much about

Who you left behind,

Or, what rhapsody you left behind.

For you have earned your peace,

And a piece of heaven.

Om Shanti!

 

Dear Pensioners

 

Dear Pensioners,

Life needs a certificate.

Today is the last day

Of  the Certificate.

Else,

You will be deemed

Dead.

Sufferings can't be prioritised

 

Sufferings can't be prioritised,

That we face our pains

In some order.

All pains are connected,

Some are of the heart,

Rest are of the heart.

Sparsh has sparshed (aka, touched) our hearts and minds

 

Sparsh has sparshed (aka, touched) our hearts and minds. It has started operating defence pensioners pension. I am not sure why. But this I think I know: a defence pensioner has to work really hard to prove that s/he is alive.

Coming at the heels of this life certificate conundrum is the trouble that is brewing for fauji pensioners in yumlok. It is believed that Yamraj has directed that deceased fauji pensioners will have to renew their death certificates every November. In the absence of such renewal, they will be turned out of heaven. Defence pensioners who are resident of hell are in any case happy to be turned out of hell.

The defence pensioners are in a quandary because of this order. It is well known that the Office of the Registrar of Birth and Death does not renew birth or death certificates. The office bearers say: once you are dead, you are dead. 

*Yamraj: Under Whose directions atmans are carried away after death.

*yumlok: The domain of Yamraj

*fauji: Servicemen and women

Love would remain chained

 

I know all too well.

It's time to say goodbye,

Still the wish,

That Time would stop,

The night would stop,

It's time for the heart

To turn gypsy again,

Still the wish,

That there would be no escape,

And love would remain chained.

Twenty two eleven twenty two

Have a palindrome syndrome?

This one is first rate,

Which is today's date,

22-11-22,

Is a beautiful palindrome too. 

बगैर फन्डे का दिन मुबारक।

 Happy Sunday,

Happy funday,

और,

बगैर फन्डे का दिन मुबारक।

Everyone is trying hard

 

If I'm the black sheep,

Still I'm family,

If I finish marathon last,

Still I run rapidly.

Warming hearts in permafrost

The side effect

Of global warming,

Is warming hearts

In permafrost.

The side effect

Of google search is

Finding many

Generations lost. 

Thursday gyan: 17 Nov 2022

 

The side effect of life is death. The side effect of love is laughter and pain.

In these pages few

 

As I got autographs and thoughts of my teachers, classmates, coursemates and friends in a diary, whose pages had turned yellow, I realised that the tattered diary was truly a collection of voices from the past. Sometime, during the years of my autograph hunting, I wrote in the same diary the following. I have tried to keep that worn out page's image as best as my mobile could capture.

There is no gain in this pain

 

There is no gain,

In this pain.

If your heart is slain,

You try in vain.

Our Rendezvous

 

A yearning (read, pledge) to meet: Batch of '74, Kendriya Vidyalaya, Sector 47, Chandigarh

The flickering flames of yesteryear,

They will all be on fire,

Come October, the coming year,

We'll all be afire.

KV Ch Sect 47, Batch of '74, 11A

KV Ch Sect 47 Batch of '74 11B and C

हैपी बाल दिवस!

 

हैपी बाल दिवस!

Someone is breathing in the rubble

 

Someone is breathing in the rubble,

Someone is still alive.

Smoke the beehive, wrecker,

Before the worker bees arrive.

They are out carrying pollen,

On their backs.

And therefore are still alive.

Perhaps the Queen bee will survive,

Perhaps the drone will survive.

Blood of the guard bees,

And the attendant bees,

Flows like honey from the beehive.

The sky falls at the horizon

 

The sky falls

(in love)

At the horizon,

And blushes red.

So much remains unsaid,

It is the dawn of love,

It is the dawn of day.

Sparsh: if it aint broken, don't mend it.

 

A defence civilian pensioner came to Bangalore from Faridabad in 2019 to live with his daughter after his wife's death. He is in his mid nineties now. His pension account was (and still is) in a Government bank in Faridabad.

Unfortunately, he fell down and broke his hip bone. He recovered, but couldn't travel. In November, every year thereafter, his fight and struggle to let the Government know that he was alive, started. Folks earning government pension have to submit and drivel before the authorities each November that they are alive. Else, their pension would be stopped. Here is a man in his mid nineties who was told to do all sorts of things - from getting an android smartphone to creating an email account - a person who doesn't even know what in the (virtual) world the Internet is!

Then the pandemic happened.

He was forced to visit banks in Bangalore in the raging pandemic trying to request the banks to allow him to let the Government know that he was alive. Of course, he could go around -with pain and anxiety, of course- because of the support of his daughter. There must surely be others who have to go around without anyone's support.

Somehow, in November 2019, 2020 and 2021 he was able to convince the Government that he was alive.

Then, Sparsh happened.

Government, in its unlimited wisdom, migrated pensions paid from Defence Estimates to a wonder drug called Sparsh. It broke a golden rule inherited from our forefathers: if it aint broken, don't mend it.

The wonder website 'Sparsh' was created by the Government, that purporedly would save megabucks in pension disbursement to defence pensioners. As an aside: why no other groups of pensioners were done this favour, we don't know.

Sparsh means touch. But this touch (or slight) has brought grief to many an elderly defence pensioner. Come November, every day they get a message on their phones that they had better let the Government know through Sparsh that they are alive, else their pension will be stopped. Most don't even understand what the message means, let alone taking action on the message.

After many rounds of the banks, and after many solicited and unsolicited advices from tech savvy folks, this dear old man in his mid nineties, still hasn't been able to convince the Government that he is alive - and deserves a pension.

Next, perhaps an order will come from the Government that, through Sparsh, a pensioner will have to upload a video that has a clip of the pensioner dancing like John Travolta's dancing in Saturday Night Fever's Stayin' Alive - in order that the defence pensioner's pension be joyfully continued.

PS: Since we are so damn tech savvy, why not link stopping of pension with the Death Certificate as opposed to asking for Life Certificate every year? Since, Birth and Death certificates are digitised and stored, this would be low hanging fruits for the mandarins of IT, would it not?

Sentence any court can commute

 

Love is not a sentence

That any court can commute,

Love is not an evidence,

That any lover can refute.

Left overs of love

 

Love has no life cycle,

It waxes, or it wanes,

Or just stays stable,

In the manger of the heart.

Most times there are

Left overs of love,

For the afterlife,

To inherit.

Carbon footprint of a tweet

 

I am not on Twitter. So, I do not know how good or bad it is. Sometimes I get a forward of  a tweet through some other social media. Then, I start to wonder what is the big deal about tweets? What are the hidden costs of a tweet?

What is the carbon footprint of a tweet, I have wondered. After all, it must take some energy equivalent to send out a tweet from the data centres. Some energy must be required to preserve it in digital form in the data centres too.

Well, I am not alone in this seemingly innocuous wonderment. It turns out that the energy it takes to send out a tweet generates 0.02 grams of Carbon dioxide. With 50 crores tweets a day, a total of 10 metric tons of Carbon dioxide are emitted every day. This data is from a website called http://tweetfarts.com/ . Interestingly the website says, share and pollute. It also says that the carbon dioxide emission of a human fart is almost the same as the carbon dioxide given out when energy is expended to send out a tweet.

But why stop at tweets? There must a carbon footprint cost for Google and Bing searches as well. Even as I write this post, there must be a carbon footprint cost to publish this post. And, then to keep the post alive in the Google data centres. Think about the ebooks in Kindle and other ebooks hosting sites.

There was a social media post sometime back that said that Indians clog the Internet highway with their Good Morning messages. More than Good Morning messages, tweets and re-tweets are accumulating carbon debt from our future generations. This may appear over simplification, but, I believe, it is true.

Should I stop publishing my posts? After all, there is nothing very profound in what I am writing. Is the blog worth borrowing from future generations? Something has to give: my ego, or my earthmanship.

Thoughts on Profitability

 

Byju has laid off 2500 employees and has got Messi as their brand ambassador instead. It's a move that will make the company profitable by the end of this financial year, says Byju. That's Byju's goal. Messi, Byju says, knows about goals in more ways than one.

Twitter is laying off thousands of employees and has introduced eight dollar ticking regime instead. This, they say, will improve Twitter's profitability. Eight dollars will allow one's tweet to go around the world. The idea is inspired, Twitter says, from the 1967 movie, 'Around the world in eight dollars'. 8 dollars, in the movie title, refers to the number of dollars that an Indian was officially allowed in 1967, by Government rules, to travel around the world.

The last day of rain

 

When will it be the last day of rain?

When will it be the last day of pain?

Then, will not the grass wither?

Without pain, will not the soul wither?

Dakota crash and Naga ordeal 2

 

Dakota crash and Naga ordeal

In continuation to the above story let me add what Wg Cdr J Choudhary (Retired), the second son of Late Hony Flt Lt Choudhary, wrote to me today about the same story:

---------------------------------------------

Dear All,

Yesterday was a very important and emotional event in my life and so am sharing with all of you. You all know that my father was the Flt Sig of the Dakota which was shot down in Nagaland in 1960 after which four crew members( my father along with Flt Lt Singha, Fg offrs Raphael and  C S Mishra) were held captive. Gp Capt Mishra was the Nav and is the only surviving member and I  finally could meet him yesterday. He shared a few episodes with me during their Nagaland ordeal. It was HORRIFYING. 

Am sharing photograph and my message to him.

This was my message in 58th course Pilot's group.

Gp Capt Mishra is 11th NDA/Foxtrot

Dear Sir,

It is so scary and sad what you all underwent. You all bore your scars in silence. The mental, emotional and physical trauma for such a long period is absolutely unimaginable! It is horrifying. 

SUCH BRAVE MEN! 🙏🙏 HATS OFF!!

Proud to be associated with you and Singha Sir and Raphael Sir. Proud to be Babu's child. 

Have to meet you again and as many times as possible. 

Lots of love and pranams🙏

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Is there Time beyond His canvas?

As God wields His vivid brush,

I will wait on the sidelines

Of His canvas,

For a spot near you.

But a thought remains:

Is there a sideline

Beyond His canvas?

Is there Time

Beyond His canvas? 

To wait, that is.

Prisoner of the silence

 

Prisoner of the silence,

Are your hands more calloused

Than your heart?

Can you not hear the sounds

Of scouring

Done by your bare hands,

On the prison walls?

Can you not hear the sound

Of the retracing steps

Of your love?

Don't you know

That's how your hands were calloused?

Your heart was calloused?

The way of some bipeds

 

The way of some bipeds

(read, the way of Karma):

If you are a certain pupa,

You struggle to emerge,

Yet become

A beautiful butterfly

And flit around

And are admired by many bipeds.

If you are another type of pupa,

You are put into boiling water

By some bipeds,

You die and leave behind

Strands of silk,

That is woven by some bipeds

Into beautiful clothes.

And then some bipeds

Flit around in those clothes,

And are admired by

Some other bipeds.

Definition of bachelor party

 

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high

Where words come out from the depth of truth!

Winning by wickets versus winning by balls

To me, winning by wickets makes no sense in T20 cricket matches, Imagine, in 20 overs, Team A scores 180 runs for the loss of two wickets(say); in the same match, Team B makes 181 runs for the loss of 4 wickets(say). We would say Team B won by 6 wickets. Why? Team B lost more wickets than Team A while making the same number of runs. Then, why say won by 6 wickets?

Wickets as a measure of win do not come into play in T20 cricket, save for in DLS system.

Instead, I think, it should be: won by so many number of balls. So, if Team B gets more than 180 runs in 18 overs and 2 balls(say), the result should be: Team B won by 16 balls.

In case Team B makes 184 runs (say) at the end of the 20th over, then we can then say: Team B won by 4 runs. A similar result can be given when Team B scores 181, 182, 184, 185, or 186 runs at the end of the 20th over: wins by one run, wins by two runs, wins by three runs...and so on.

Another thing is about number of balls faced by a batter. Just as a bowler is allowed to bowl no more than 24 legitimate balls, a batter in T20 cricket should be allowed to face no more than 24 balls. This way there will be parity when bowlers are pitted against batters. Why should batters have an advantage of facing number of balls? 

Happy Infantry Day

 

Infantryman, your footprints

are the only road, nothing else.

Infantryman, there is no minefield;

you make your own path as you trudge.

As you trudge, you make your own road,

and when you look back

you see the path

you will never travel again.

Infantryman, there is no road;

Only the rustle of the bramble bushes.

Happy Infantry Day

(With apologies to Antonio Machado)

Counting up and counting down

 

Some folks are counting up,

Some folks are counting down.

Some are counting up 

All the stars in the sky,

And the Likes for their latest post.

Some are counting down

The days to the next Diwali,

Counting down

To the last person standing

Among their friends,

The one that would endure

The longest regime of pain.

Let the sun hide himself

 

All the stars are your Diyas,

Let the moon hide herself,

Let the sun hide himself,

He is your trenchmate,

He is your wingman,

He is your shipmate,

Happy Diwali, soldier,

Happy Diwali, air warrior,

Happy Diwali, sailor.

*Diyas: Earthen lamps

Be Indian, be happiness

 

Be Indian, be happiness.

Happy Dhanteras.

Checking the weather update

 

Just checking the weather up there before restarting the climb.

If the Universe halted

 

If the Universe halted:

Neither expanded,

Nor contracted,

If all galaxies, stars, and planets

Stayed put:

Neither rotated,

Nor circumnavigated,

What would Time be?

What would the stars foretell?

A case for English in the higher echelons of academics

 

First a disclaimer: This is a post for English and not against Hindi.

Very short, but, in my view, compelling points:

-While it may not take a very long to translate all technical/non-technical curricula into Hindi, the repository of technical and non-technical journals, research papers, and books in English in libraries and elsewhere in digital form is huge: almost 90%. If we change our undergrad technical and non-technical studies to Hindi, the undergrad students will lose that huge repository -a large part of which is free- forever. This will be a huge loss and will not be able to be made up. Ever.

-We are frittering away an advantage that we have. If we have to export professionals like doctors, nurses, engineers, software engineers, lawyers to other countries, the professionals going abroad, need to have done their undergrad studies in English. There is no gainsaying, that the countries wanting the professionals would want English as a link language in order that the foreign professionals enmesh seamlessly with their own body of knowledge.

-While it is fashionable to say that Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, and Russians do technical/non-technical studies in their own language, we must watch Korean, Japanese, Chinese, even Russian sitcoms/serials in Netflix and Primevideo to understand where these countries are going as far as foreign language adoption is concerned. Students in these countries are paying millions in yen, won, yuan, and ruble to get a grip of English. This expenditure for them is worthwhile because if world is the student's stage, then English is the is language of the dramatist.

-The folks pushing this new idea must have thought of this but I cannot reconcile as to how a doctor who has studied in Tamil medium would practice as part of Amrita Hospital in Faridabad. Conversely, how a doctor who did her MBBS in Bengali in RG Kar, Kolkata will do post grad in Vellore Christian College, where instruction would be in Tamil. Seemingly, all our professionals will have to work / do further studies only in their own states, or in states where their undergrad language would be the language of instruction/work.

Of course, for Indians, there are millions of points against English and trillions points for English, that English be the language of instruction in technical courses. But, for me, we are willfully denying ourselves accessibility to a body of knowledge out their in cyber space and elsewhere; to me, it is giving away a huge advantage to our competitors; to me, slowly but surely we will turn insular, while the world becomes global.

Wonder who trades their sleep

 

Urmila slept,

That Lakshman may stay awake.

Goddess Nidra equalises sleep:

One's sleep against

Another's wakefulness.

Wonder who sleeps

For all those folks

Who have sleepless nights.

Wonder who trades their sleep,

Their dreams.

The other universe

 

There must be a Universe,

Where there's blood in the eyes,

And tears run the veins,

Where folks donate blood,

When their heart is hurt,

And water the cactii,

That pricked their fingers.

And the last, with tears.

I hear rumble before I see lightning

 

I hear rumble before I see lightning,

My sense of hearing is keen.

My shelter is 'neath a lightning conductor,

I'm out when lightning loses sheen.

But years of verbal abuse has made me yearn,

That I may turn to coal and cinder,

See the spark before I hear the thunder,

Die at once, and so surrender.

The Universe Conspires

 

Yesterday, I somewhat understood what is meant by Coelho's When you want something, the whole universe conspires to make it happen.

I had gone to meet my classmate from school. We were classmates almost 50 years ago. He had come over to Bangalore from Pune to be part of Isha foundation's consecration ceremony of the Deity which is in now residing in its New Centre in Bangalore. It was just an old time sake visit. However, it turned out to be the Universe conspires experience. Not my experience though, as I will explain in a bit.

I had been wanting to visit the Isha Foundation near Coimbatore, India, for a long time. But it hasn't happened yet. Arun and Gopi, my classmates from school, took me to the New Isha Centre in the Nandi Hills. The Deity therein had been consecrated only the night before. The function was over and there were only few visitors. And, I was able to humbly receive the blessings and energy with gratitude; without the jostling and pushing of other devotees. It was truly a soul stirring experience.

The New Centre is cradled in a huge bowl hemmed in by hills. On one of the hillocks, which was almost barren, I noticed a tree atop the hillock. It had sprung up from the boulders on top of the hillock. It must have struggled a lot to breathe, as it made its way up the unforgiving boulders. But the Universe had conspired that it saw the light of the day; more importantly it was as if the Universe had conspired to give it a ringside view of the consecration ceremony of the Deity. It would now remain covered with effulgent energy from the residing Deity forever. 

Let it rain copiously

 Let it rain copiously,

It's the Heaven's way

To get in touch

With the Earth.

Only He knows

Where the earth is parched,

Of rain,

Of love.

How high is the sky?

 

How high is the sky?

Ask the Air Force guy.

Happy Air Force Day to all air warriors and their families.

A beautiful day rises

 

Like the incandescent smell

Of filter coffee,

In Shanti Sagar,

Like the effervescent smell

Of tea,

Wafting from the kitchen,

A beautiful day rises.

And, Thank God it's Friday!

Durga Ma

Durga Ma,

An eon passes,

Between the spaces

Of your coming.

Come sooner,

More often.

Raktabeej are falling everywhere.

 

Unfold your soul

Don't you know how to cry?

Not too hard, if you try.

Let the tears roll,

Unfold your heart,

Unfold your soul. 

Why does the sky weep?

 

Why does the sky weep?

When the world is fast asleep?

Who cares!

And, what the (global warming) devil!

Only raises the sea level,

One sliver of joy at a time.

 

How do you gather so much happiness?

One sliver of joy at a time.

In the eyes of the heart

 

If He made

All things bright and beautiful,

He should have made

All folks equally handsome n tall.

Wouldn't need no beauty pageants,

No Indian Idol Season three or four.

No need for Fair and Lovely,

No need for the beauty store.

Beauty wouldn't be skin deep then,

Would be matter of the heart,

Wouldn't be in the eyes of the beholder,

Would be in the eyes of the heart.

Mankading in Cricket

 

Yesterday, we saw Ms Deepti Sharma mankading Ms Dean in the 3rd One Day cricket match between India and England.  In cricket, mankading has come to mean running out the non-striker by the bowler if she crosses the non-striker's crease even before the bowling action is completed. For years, such an action by the bowler was considered not in the spirit of the game. But now, such an action by the bowler is considered legit by Cricketing Rules.

What is our views on what happened yesterday? 

If we take the English reaction out of the equation,  where do we stand? We know that the English whine a lot. Their whining about Maradona's 'Hand of God' will probably go on into the next century. But, so what? Clearly, such whining has nothing to do with our own response, does it? If the tables were turned, and Ms Dean did a mankading on Ms Deepti, would we accept such an action with equanimity?

In my view, the rules need to change. Running off even before the bowler's action is complete should count as a short run; just as a short run is declared when the bat doesn't cross the crease while batters take a run. And, just to make sure that a recognised batter doesn't cross over to shield a tail ender, status quo ante should be preserved, as far as batting ends are concerned. Of course, such short run will have to be auto-detected by technology; just as we do in the case of a no-ball.

She has stepped in

 

She has stepped in,

Shubho Mahalaya!

Doodling starts with age

 

This is in the context of Google throwing open a doodling competition for students up to Grade 10, and that a pair of judges in the competition happen to be youtube influencers.

Hey Google!

We can also doodle,

And, we have a wish,

For our country,

Twenty five years hence.

We want no prizes, though,

Let the youtube influncers

Triage the entries:

Good, bad and aimless.

But, just let us in.

We may have a blemish,

That we are senior citizens,

Still, we have a wish,

That twenty five years hence,

Our country will let us doodle.

After all, aimless sketching,

Called doodling,

Starts with age.

The Devil in the details

The world said:

The devil was in the details,

So, I scanned only the headlines.

But God wasn't there either.

No news was good news,

In more ways than one. 

Let's go online

 

I have mooted the idea that the Supreme Court (indeed, all courts), the Parliament, the Ministries, should go online. 

Whether a litigant is in Port Blair or Rann of Kutch or Walong or Sopore or Delhi or wherever, she will be equidistant to the Supreme Court. There is no great advantage to the litigants for the Supreme Court to be situated in Delhi. 

Whether a constituency of a H'ble Member is in Srinagar or Palaghat or Ukhrul or Diu, it would make no difference in terms of travel to the seat of democracy, if the Parliament goes online. The H'ble Member will be able to be in her constituency for her entire tenure. Indeed, there will be no rushing to the Well of the House, no filibustering, no sloganeering. Everyone will speak in her time, else the H'ble Speaker (read, the host of the online meeting) can just mute the mic of the errant Member.

Similarly, Ministries can just go on line. When required, the boss and subordinate can have online meetings: no need for elaborate buildings, support staff, and the rest of the retinue. It gives no advantage to the citizens of India, if the Ministries are situated in Delhi. In any case, all support to the citizens have gone online in the nic.gov.in domain. 

Let's go online.

Freedom grows

 

Like the phirki in the wind,

Like the wind in your hair,

Like a kite without tether,

Like a softly floating feather,

Freedom grows.

Which camp am I?

Some say, Time flies,

Others say, Time stands still.

Which camp am I?

Well,

Only Time will tell. 

Carbon footprint of the House of Windsor

 

It is said that the carbon footprint of the House of Windsor increased exponentially because of the Kohinoor. After all, whatever the size of a diamond, it is still Carbon.

19. The pot, wall, etc., are all nothing but clay. Likewise, the entire universe is nothing but Brahman. This is proclaimed by Vedanta.

-Sri Sankara in Brahmajnanavalimala

Souls and their wish

 

I took a screenshot

Of the Universe,

And sent it for peer review.

My peers said

The shot was fake;

There weren't any stars

In the screenshot,

Only souls, and their wish.

But isn't that the raw data?

The Universe is made of

Souls, and their wish.

It will go on

When my laughter is like your breath,

It will go on.

When my smile is like your scent,

It will go on. 

Breakfast after Noon meal

 

On Rediff landing page today. Is the breakfast the following day?

Catharsis through analysis

 

Do I have a chip

On my shoulder?

Does it grow

As I grow older?

There's one

Inside me now.

Hurt and angst

Are all recorded.

The shrink reads

The readings,

Provides catharsis

Through analysis

And I look for

A second opinion,

Because the shrink declares

All's well.

Upturn the hourglass

 

उस मोड़ से शुरु करें फिर से यह जिन्दगी

When the life is too full, just upturn the hourglass and move forward again.

A tear is a drop from raktabija

 

A tear is a drop

From raktabija,

One may fall,

And a million will sprout,

And drown the world.

Won't let it fall.

He will not miss your doorstep.

 

A friend sent this beautiful message.

I thought to myself that good that He came in a submarine in Bangalore, else He would have missed many doorsteps. Many doorsteps are submerged.

Hurt is immortal

 

Men are mortal,

Grief is immortal,

Hurt is immortal,

Therefore, love is

Immortal.

Q.E.D.

No change in the meaning of tax

During the time the pandemic had started to simmer down, on 19th January 2021, I wrote:

Fax means facsimile,

Pax means passenger,

Vax means vaccine.

No change in the meaning of Tax.

Love had no safety net

 

He fell through the cracks,

And, she never noticed.

He fell by the tracks,

And, she never noticed.

Love had no safety net,

When he fell in love.

Forgive me please

 

Come September,

And the sun's scorch

Has lost its edge,

And the cricketers,

Do not sledge.

Today is also Samvatsari,

The Jain Forgiveness Day.

No smart things for me to say.

Just:

Forgive me please.

Forgive me,

If I have hurt you:

With malice,

Or, after I had a few.

Knowingly, or unknowingly,

Let the bitterness cease,

Forgive me please.

Leasing a body

WHEREAS, He, the LESSOR,

Desires to lease

To me, the LESSEE,

A body.

WHEREAS, the LESSEE

Desires to lease

His property

NOW, THEREFORE,

In consideration

of the mutual promises,

It is hereby mutually agreed

That I may enjoy the premises

Without restraint,

For a lifetime.

So, Help me God. 

700 crore search engines

Thinking outside the box is passe.

Now, immerse inside the box.

No solutions outside the box.

So said our ancients.

Dear 700 crore search engines,

Data is not in the Cloud.

All data indexed within,

And, so said our ancients.

No one loves like you

 

Pretty folks don't love,

Pretty folks only whisper

Sweet nothings.

How do you do it, my friend?

No one ever loves like you.

Can't but love

 

Some can't love,

Others can't but love.

And, there is no third category.

Love has no antidote

'Tis spreading soft

But spreading fast,

Don't know how long,

I will last.

Venom has now 

Reached my heart,

Her loving had a

Little part.

Swooning heart,

And sinking boat,

Love has got

No antidote.

 

Vacuum cleaner

 

The vacuum cleaner,

That cleanses the world without,

Sometimes fills the vacuum within.

The vacuum cleaner:

Sometimes it blows,

Often times it sucks.

The sixth sense of love

 

What is the sound of love?

What is the scent of love?

What is the sight of love?

What is the touch of love?

What is the taste of love?

Is there a sixth sense of love?

The pounding beneath the chest?

No one returns

 The signboard

On the highway,

Where the roads split

Into a 'Y'.

Has seen enough travellers

Some turn left,

Some take the right,

Some dash against the berm ahead.

The paint on it has peeled,

Writings are barely decipherable

Decades of wind and rain.

Some peer tentatively,

Some shout angrily.

But, having taken the turn,

No one returns.

It is said that

Neither the left,

Nor the right,

Holds a U turn ahead.

Supplants an idea of yore

 

Scientists are reporting,

That they have invented,

Paperwash!

It's a bit like rainwash,

That washes away the pain,

And the drain

In my neighbourhood.

It is more like wiping

A slate clean.

It is like the duster

That wipes the blackboard clean,

Clean of vestiges of learnings

From before.

'Tis unlike a brainwash,

Which supplants

A dearly held idea of yore,

With just another,

Or, unjust another.

.

Happy Birthday Ashis

 

In the night between 19th and 20th August, 65 years ago, my late mother brought me into this world. I am today what I am because of my friends and the Army.

But as Beetle Bailey says to his Sarge, I have to take some of the responsibility. Can't put the entire blame on my friends or the Army.

Happy Janmashtami

 

Happy Janmashtami, everyone.

यदा यदा हि धर्मस्य ग्लानिर्भवति भारत। अभ्युत्थानमधर्मस्य तदात्मानं सृजाम्यहम् ॥4-7॥

Whenever there is an ebbing of righteousness and a rising of sinfulness, O Arjun, 

At that time I manifest myself on Earth.

Prepaid bill

 

Received this mini poster from a friend. Added the 4 lines that are below the mini-poster.

Prepaid, but unlike your mobilephone bill.

As the wages of war get amortized, 

There will be some soldier still,

Who will foot the bill. 

Waiting for you too soon

 

It is the midweek,

It is the waning moon,

Am I waiting for you

A little too soon?

SOS is a misnomer

 

Our souls are like plastic:

Non degradable,

Only upgradable,

Through many recycles

-read, life cycles-

the chrysalis is peeled

Made open and bare.

Therefore,

Save our Souls

Is a misnomer.

Happy Raksha Bandhan

To all the lucky brothers,

Who have sisters,

To all the lucky sisters,

Who have brothers,

Happy Raksha Bandhan.

To those brothers and sisters

Who don't,

There are millions other Indians

Who don't have one either.

Choose one,

Silently.

You could choose the bravehearts

Who became one

With the Triranga today.

But then, you would still remain

Bereft of a brother in this world.

And yet, you would be 

Such a proud sister!

Happy Raksha Bandhan!

  

Love triangles are never equilateral

Have you noticed?

Love triangles are never

Equilateral.

Often times they're right angled,

Which would be so comic,

If it were not so tragic,

Love triangle, and rightly angled?

No tilt will work!

There are no happy endings

(at least, for one of the vertices)

In love triangles. 

Still, ever the best ship

 

We are in the same boat.

Whether she is sailing smooth,

Whether she has sprung a leak,

Still, ever the best ship.

Happy 'nother day of friendship!

I'll ride my own longitude

 

My Pole Star

Was under a cloud,

So, I asked Google

For directions -

To my True North.

Google didn't have an answer.

I can't wait for the cloud

To go away,

I will find my way,

Blindfolded, but with your heart.

Perhaps I'll ride  

My own longitude,

And find my True North.

The tide will turn

Don't quit loving,

Because of unrequited love,

The tide will turn. 

When God created music

 

When God created music,

When God created song,

Did He know what went wrong?

Why is there a cry

In every song?

Why is there

A love that hurts

In every symphony?

Thank God it was Friday

This is a city dwellers's response to Robert Frost's  'Roadside Stand'.

When the night is no longer young,

And I walk into the night,

My ears sharpen:

A distant, eerie wail of a dog,

The bang of his staff

By the chowkidar,

The last shift returning in shared taxi

From the beehive,

I fill my lungs

With tattered smoke

Still there is a drowsy hope

In the hazy air,

Thank God it was Friday.

I return home.

*chowkidar: watchman

The Silos of Men and Machines

 

Excerpt from the script of a talk that Lt Gen Satish Nambiar delivered on Saturday 23rd July 2022 at Defence Colony, New Delhi, commemorating Kargil Diwas.

'Hence maintenance of a credible military capability is imperative. Such a capability cannot be built on procurement of weapons and equipment alone. It has to be anchored on human resources - the apolitical Indian Armed Forces - that need to be respected and well cared for in times of peace.'

In an earlier post, I had said that men and machines are an inalienable mix in the Forces. The Capital Outlay cannot be in separate silos of  men and machines. Yesterday's unfortunate death of two young pilots owing to the MIG crash is just one more example of destinies of  men and machines being irretrievably intertwined in the Forces. As many veterans and others have said in various fora and platforms, the operational effectiveness will plummet if either's robustness is degraded.

That said, it is unfortunate that we have started using Coporate language in our Forces: human resources for human beings is just one example. Equally, we think nothing when Army's idioms are adopted nonchalantly by the Corporates: in the line of fire, I am with you in the trenches, last man standing, etc. In my view, language is very important for a discerning perspective. Demeaning and dilution of our idioms will, in the end, erode the truth and pithiness of our idioms. It will germinate within the public a perception that just as Managers in the Corporate world manage their teams, junior leaders in the Army can manage their subordinates (read Agniveers) to their death.

We know that it is impossible to stop someone from using a particular idiom or phrase. But, we can call out a person whenever someone in the civvy street utters our sacred idioms offhandedly. Social media is powerful, and let's fight them where it hurts them the most: in the social media, in metaverse.

Or, blink together

 

Those with eyes 

That don't well up,

Blink first.

Love hurts,

So, for once,

Let's tear up,

Or, blink together.

The source of rain

 

You are beautiful within,

You are beautiful without,

What you think is stain,

Is just remains of pain.

Those dark clouds above?

They are the source of rain,

To wash away your pain.

His head in the sky!

 

Does Happiness lurk,

When he goes for work,

On a recycled holiday,

On a bicycled Sunday?

My, my!

His head in the sky!

Just let me be

 

I lost my way,

I lost my day,

Some would say,

Still others would say.

But my soul is free,

My heart is glee,

So let me be,

Just let me be.

Why horse trading will come down.

We are told that during the next round of discussions on GST, it will be proposed to bring under the GST umbrella horse-trading and rent-a-cause activism. Of course, it's a no-brainer that stable owners and rent-a-cause activists are up in arms.

What colours of Him

 

What colours of her,

What colours of him,

What colours of Him,

'Tis, as if a Hymn.

End of the Return boom

 

Good days will end soon,

End of the Return boom

Is coming soon.

GST on Return, shall be,

On things you wear, try and see,

Things on Amazon you have bought,

Things where refund you sought,

Same with Myntra and Flipkart,

Or any startup, or upstart.

Declare without favour or fear,

Misogynistic is the idea.

Now, rush the well of the House,

Activists click the digital mouse,

Keep GST on milk and kheer,

Even on curd and paneer,

But NO GST on Return,

NO GST on Return.

After my loss of pain

 

After my loss of pain,

Or my gain of joy,

When I sometimes say,

'God is kind',

I equally wonder if 

God is of a kind.

What of those

Who are still in pain,

And are yet bereft of joy?

Immersed in reflected light

 

The boats that ran aground,

Wait for the supermoon,

Wait for the high tide

To lift all boats.

Some people wait,

To be drenched and immersed

In reflected light.

God had patented laughter

 

Laughter was the best medicine.

Well, God had patented it,

And, through His patent

Had made divine money too,

Till the pharmas took over,

And made laughing gas.

Even the other side was on his side

 

The Universe was on his side,

Even the other side was on his side,

Save for one, of course,

And, that's all that counted.

The writing on the wall

 The writing on the wall,

Is only a graffiti.

I am searching for paintings:

On the walls of the caves,

On the pillars of the metro,

On the pillars of the flyovers,

On the murals of buildings,

On the sky with a rainbow.

A heart is torn

A new day is born,

Sounds a lonely foghorn,

Gods take a side,

A heart is torn,

Grows a pain unborn.

To the fog yonder,

Goes a soul forlorn. 

कैसे हो?

 

किसीने पूछा, 'कैसे हो?'

मैंने कहा, 'बाकी ठीक है, बस global warming, recession, Russia-Ukraine war और fog चल रहा है।'

Double Whammy for the Constipated

 

Angels make the paths

 

There are no paths

From the beginning of time.

Angels make the paths.

So, there is no path

Which the angels fear to tread.

All the paths I choose

Are blessed,

Whether less travelled,

Or more.

Don't stop counting on me.

 

Don't stop counting on me,

I got a little light-headed,

And dreamt with a light heart,

That the Oarsman

Had taken me to the far bank,

But dreams are dreams.

That's a bank too far.

I am still with you,

In the pain,

On the near bank,

Don't stop counting on me.

Change into wine

 

If you are an abecedarian in love,

You are probably blessed.

Some say, love

(and hate)

Ferment in the cauldrons of the heart,

And become acetous.

I say,

Give it time,

And, in time,

It will change into wine.

Version 2.0 of sometimes you are the pigeon

 

Version 2.0 of

Sometimes you are the pigeon,

Sometimes you are the statue is:

Sometimes you are the asshole,

Other times you are the bamboo.

Tread with caution.

Agniveer Anthem

 

मैं पल दो पल का फौजी हूँ,

पल दो पल मेरी कहानी है,

पल दो पल मेरी हस्ती है,

पल दो पल मेरी जवानी है।

Wise and Otherwise

 

Tuesday, I got this gyan:

There are essentially two that will make you wise: the books you read and the people you meet,

Wednesday, I got the corollary of this gyan:

The books that you don't read and the people you don't meet will make you otherwise.

When I swoon with too much love

 

When I swoon with too much love,

Then, I drown in many dreams.

When I drown in many dreams,

Then, I wait for you in my dreams.

When I wait for you in my dreams,

Then I wish the dreams would carry on.

And, as the dreams do carry on,

Then, I swoon with too much love.

Blind side of her moon

 

Your love waxes like the moon,

Her love wanes like the moon,

It will be your full moon,

When hers is the new moon.

Then, walk your path

In the starlight, friend,

It will soon be her new moon.

And, all the stars above,

Are your million wishes.

Who knows you may yet see 

The blind side of her moon?

Tour of Duty

 

Brig PS Gothra (Retd) is from my unit.

I AM TO BE BLAMED FOR ToD

By Brig PS Gothra(Retd)

जब पहली बार गोली चलती है तो काफी लोगों की फटती है। और मेरी भी फटी थी।(I am not going to translate this).  But as an officer one comes out of this because the responsibility on your shoulders makes you get up and look for the courses of action while under fire. You also have some experienced Jawan by your side who looks at you for instructions with so much reverence that you don’t want to fall in his eyes. No amount of training and simulated battlefield inoculation can help you to be absolutely calm during such a first firefight. It comes with experience and some people never experience it in their whole service time.

Today I read an article on tour of duty. Felt bad because we are blindly following some other Armies with only finances in sight. But then I asked myself who is to be blamed, the Govt or the Babus. A great deal of introspection and I see that I am to be blamed.  I am guilty because I never shared my actual experience of soldiering. What ever I shared was bullshit sometimes to bachao the izzat of the paltan and sometimes for self glorification. How will the analysts come to know? I am sure they must be basing their decisions based on the inputs from some elite. The elite  who as a two star never had the courage and conviction to thump the table that they are getting less pay and pension than a one star. The elite if you analyse the confidential reports written by them will clearly indicate that they have been dishonest or timid in grading everyone outstanding unless the person reported upon is already overlooked or low medical category. The elite who have been sending out the rosy lessons learnt on operations with no benefit to the future generations…………

The fact which I have given in the first para will ensure that a large part of our Army will have no experience of combat at any point of time due to frequent rotation of men in the likely system of tour of duty. How dangerous it is I leave it for the people with mathematical models to compute.

But let me share another thing. In a rifle company only 6 to 7 percent soldiers stick to the company commander under heavy fire and move forward with him. Rest just crawl or take position behind good cover(they are also required).  This was higher at 9 to 10 percent in my tenures in Rashtriya Rifles. A company commander with experience has to know who these are. Mind you they may not be good sportsmen or good instructors or smart looking but they are there with you when the chips are down. Identifying these battle winning boys comes with time spent together.  I experienced this in my combat life in Manipur, Sri Lanka, Two Rahstriya Rifles tenures and one tenure as Brigade commander on the Line of Control. People who have moved up to capture the heights in Kargil can share their tougher experiences.

By introducing the tour of duty we are reducing this battle winning density in a rifle company. God knows how we will win a war. And if we lose, I am to be blamed.

I am sure people who have been under fire frequently will have the same opinion but I also know that they are shy and after going through all the hardships settled for “Sanu Ki” attitude. And the smart ones who have not faced the bullets and some of them have managed gallantry medals or even  wound medals will come out with wonderful justifications like, “हमारी तो रेजिमेंट बहुत बहादुर है यह उसकी रेजिमेंट में होता होगा.”

Happiness kept her promise

No betrayal from Happiness,

No betrayal from Joy,

No reason for melancholy,

No occasion to cry. 

Happiness kept her promise,

And, never went away.

But, Happiness and Love,

Can't be used interchangeably,

This much I have to say,

Dreams are returning

 

It's happening.

Sleep is returning,

Dreams are returning.

Thank you for coming,

Albeit, a little late,

Doesn't matter,

If it is almost dawn.

A gene of hope

 

Why do we categorise, still?

Aren't we all terminally ill?

Some with reason,

Some without reason,

Some with lesion

In the heart and mind,

Some even without a kind.

I think:

We all possess the gene of hope,

That gives us a long rope.

Sleepless nights

 

Sleepless nights,

Dreamless nights,

Lifelong,

And, life is long.

Like her binary Star

 

I know that she is far,

But when You patrol,

The Universe,

Stop by my lovely star,

Tell me if she's

Shining bright,

Can I bring her home,

Riding my kite?

Can she be my little wish,

If only for a blink?

Can she ride a shooting star,

And softly land on my moonlit rink?

Or, can I be forever near,

And yet be forever far,

And circle her,

Like her binary star.

Your Small Corner of the Universe

 

Your Small Corner of the Universe

Is bigger than the Universe.

The speck called Universe,

Cannot contain Your Love,

Neither can many Multiverses

Contain Your Love.

Except, for mindspace, read heartspace.

 

A friend sent me this Friday farmaan:

Don't let anyone, anyone rent a space in your head unless they're a good tenant.

I reflected:

Same to same for the heart, except for mindspace, read heartspace.

The Latlong doesn't seem wrong

Where are chalkmarks on the wall

That made up for stumps?

Where is the postbox

Where I dropped postcards of joy and sorrow?

Where are the kites

That covered the city's sky?

Where is the mango grove

Where we paused for breath?

Where are the smiles

That people wore?

This is not my city!

But wait, the city's latlong

Doesn't seem wrong.