A Reverie

What is Present?

It is just an oppurtunity bestowed on us to recall the past and plan the future. This oppurtunity due to this presence of the past and the future deprives us from realising and enjoying the present. It is only after the present becomes stale that we take interest in it to interpret what had once happened in our life. But at this juncture we interpret everything that has happened in a subective manner. It is through our personal perspective that the past evolves. Unfortunately it is not to understand the past properly that we interpret past, moreover we intrepret past to justify our own behaviour or as an evidence of what we have gone through. Then what happens to the truth that has been revealed itself at that time? As usual it gets buried deep down waiting to be explored . How tragic that truth has to live such a prolonged life and how tragic will this human life will be which is asked to remain close to the truth. 

Simplicity At Its Best

I love reading. I read when I am alone, I read when I am sad, I read when I am happy. It gives me a strange pleasure to open a book and read what the author wants to say. It lightens my heart and cheers me up. I do not restrict myself to a particular genre because then I feel I am being unfair to myself, that I am denying myself so much wisdom. Therefore, I have treated myself to a plethora of different genres. Currently, I am reading a short story collection of Ruskin Bond named "The Night Train at Deoli and other stories".

The book contains some 30 short stories. All these stories are set in the beautiful valley of Uttarkhand, where Ruskin Bond has made his home. This is one of the main reasons why I am enjoying this book. I have an unexplained affinity and love for the hills. One can learn a lot from them. The Hills teach one to remain firm and face all obstacles and challenges in life. One experiences a calmness of the mind by just looking at the hills. The stories in this book give a warm and intimate portrait of life in the Himalayan foothills. The book portrays delightful satires about village officials and small-town braggarts. One of the best features about this book is that Ruskin Bond writes about people who unconsciously or discerningly need each other: people in love or in need of love, the timid lover and the lonely adult. There are stories which mourn the dissapearing beauty of the mountians and the people who live in them. There are stories about love, loss, regret and lonelinesss.

I experience a refreshing change while reading this book. For a change it is not about pychopathic killers, impotent war-heroes, emotionally tortured film stars or some secret agent. This short story collection is about people one confronts in daily life, it is about places where has gone or where one longs to go. The stories talk about, love, longing, about something left behind but still close to the heart. There is a good deal of romance in these stories which makes the reader connect to the theme. I always think that one can't really write unless one is in love with the subject. The romance in this book is associated with trains. People are always travelling in trains and going places, but just occasionally two people meet and their paths cross and they become one or they might part but their lifes have been changed in some unexplained way.


The Night Train at Deoli is my favourite story in the collection. It is a beautiful story of unrequited love which I am sure all of us have experienced at some point of time and I am no exception. Its a poignant story which touched my heart. The story is narrated in the first person by a college boy. The boy is travelling by train to Dehra Dun to spend his vacations at his grandmother's house. On its journey up the hills, the train stops at Deoli, a lonely station.'Why it stopped at Deoli I don't know. Nothing ever happened there. Nobody got off the train and nobody got in. There were never any coolies on the platform. But the train would halt there a full ten minutes, and a bell would sound, the guard would blow his whistle, and presently Deoli would be left behind and forgotten', a simple yet beautiful description of Deoli.
There the boy meets a girl selling baskets and is smitten by her. He cannot forget her and looks out for her during the return journey. He is thrilled to see her and she is happy that he remembered her. But now it is time for the lovers to part.'I felt the impulse to put her on the train there and then..I caught her hand and held it.."I have to go to Delhi", I said...she nodded , "I do not have to go anywhere"..the guard blew his whislte..and how I hated the guard for doing that...poignant and touching line. It is my favourite because the story is about longing. A longing for someone who is out of reach. The longing after something lost.

The tales in this book have given me a new perspective. They help me to understand people around me and they accompany me sometimes when I wish to go back to my soliterary moments of lonliness.

Musings Of a Young Citizen

26th January 2012
Enough reason for us to feel patriotic and pround. Enough reason to feel the need to do something for our country. I am no exception. Today i also felt the need to voice out my opinion on the significance of Republic Day. Its a small contribution since I am definitly not planning to get all sentimental and emotional today.
First and foremost, I am writing this only for myself and not to shove it down anybody's mental esophagus.
 26th January 1950, the day India became a republic, the day Indian became free in the true sense. We were free to form our own government, choose our own representatives and free to form our own policies and ideology. Many things happened. High strung government tensions, wars were fought, emergencies declared, governments came and went, people were assasinated, population exploded, India became global, naxalites attacked, tsunamis hit us, earthquakes moved us, students went abroad, missiles were made, our country formed associations with the biggest brains and wallets of the world, but people still continued to live.
Yet somethings is missing. There is an abyss, a void which has to be filled. Do you not feel it?
I feel it everytime. While walking on the road I see the big hoardings loudly proclaiming 'Bharat Mata Ki Jai'!
I see the processions on the road and the youth screaming their guts out, declaring the glory of their country. And then suddenly I see an overflowing garbage bin and next to it an old, frail man selling flags. He is not celebrating. Ah! Right in the middle of the road a car comes zooming, and the driver spits and rolls of. Yes right in the middle of the road!! A happy Political party waving their flag around and campaining. The sorry sights are not quite over. There by the alcohol shop, a group of youngsters are preparing for tonights party.

And now comes the day after, 27th January. I have seen enough of these days to predict what happens. The banners and the flags are wrapped up and stored for reuse. Else their fate lies in being lumps of paper in which food or other sanitary materials should be disposed off. Or sometimes they are just thrown on the roads finding their way under cars and trucks or a cow might try digesting them. SAD.

If this was not enough here are a few things to ponder on. Why do the cheers of 'Vande Mataram' resonate louder during cricket matches than on such days which we should cherish? Why when everyday the anthem is being sung, there has to be one person in the crowd scratching his back? Why do the rich abuse their responsibilty? Why do riots break out at every 'implied' insult?  What went wrong?

There is no use in blaming politics and politcians. I am talking about US. The Citizens. I am not preaching. I am not going to join any demonstrations and I am certainly not joining politics. But yes, there are a few things I will do today. I will give atleast one needy person something to eat. I will buy a flag and stick it on my board and see it everyday and think about the country for a minute. I shall get back to work again because i wish to make my country proud. 
 Till today our great country has survived everything. It has survived foreign rule, internal violence, wars, terrorism, partition, surviving calamities sent by God and survived calamities created by man. And now its time to stop surviving and start living! Its high time now, INDIA, to live up to the hopes that were placed in u 62 years a ago. We have the strenght, we have the potential and we have the courage to dream.
65 years ago, it was a million tiny drops of blood, a million whispered words and a million hearts that gave us our country. And a million hearts, a million thinking minds and a million proud Indians today can build our country.