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.