Growing up in the seventies!

Someone emailed me the following article. I liked it and thought of sharing it with my friends on rediff. All the youngsters on Rediff may find it a bit difficult to conceive that such a world existed. Yes, it did, and most of its inhabitants were reasonably happy….

For those who grew up during the 70s in middle class India, here are some things that you can identify with – at least I do!

1. Though you may not publicly own to this, at the age of 12-17 years, you were very proud of your first ‘Bell bottom’, your first ‘Maxi’ or your first Apache jeans.

2. Phantom Mandrake were your only true heroes. The brainy ones read ‘Competition Success Review’.

3. Your ‘Camlin’ geometry box Natraj/Flora pencil was your prized possession.

4. The only ‘holidays’ you took were to go to your grandparents’ or your cousins’ houses.

5. Ice-cream meant only - either an orange stick, a vanilla stick, or a Choco Bar if you were better off than most.

6. You gave your neighbour’s phone number to others with a ‘c/o’ written against it because you had booked yours only 7 years ago and were still waiting for your number to come.

7. Your first family car (and the only one) was a Fiat or an Ambassador. This often had to be pushed by the entire family to get going.

8. The glass windows in the back seats used to get stuck at the two-thirds down level and used to irk the shit out of you! The window went down only if your puny arm could manage the tacky rotary handle to pull it down. Locking the door was easy. You just whacked the other tacky, non-rotary handle downwards.

9. Your mom had stitched the weirdest lace curtains for all the windows of the car. They were tied in the middle and if your dad was the comfort-oriented kinds, you had a magnificent small fan upfront.

10. Your parents were proud owners of HMT watches. You ‘earned’ yours after SSC exams.

11. You have been to ‘Jumbo Circus’; have held your breath while the pretty young thing in the glittery skirt did acrobatics, quite enjoyed the elephants hitting football, the motorcyclist vrooming in the ‘Maut ka Gola’ and it was politically okay to laugh your guts out at dwarfs hitting each others bottoms!

12. You have at least once heard ‘Hawa Mahal’ on the radio.

13. If you had a TV, it was normal to expect the neighborhood to gather around to watch the Chitrahaar or the Sunday movie. If you didn’t have a TV, you just went to a house that did. It mattered little if you knew the owners or not.

14. Sometimes the owners of these TVs got very creative and got a bi or even a tri-coloured anti-glare screen which they attached with two side clips onto their Weston TVs. That confused the hell out of you!

15. Black White TVs weren’t so bad after all because cricket was played in whites.

16. You thought your Dad rocked because you got your own (the family’s; not your own own!) colour TV when the Asian Games started. Everyone else got the same idea as well and ever since, no one came over to your house and you didn’t go to anyone else’s.

17. You dreaded the death of any political leader because of the mourning they would announce on the TV. After all how much ‘Shashtriya Sangeet’ can a kid take? Salma Sultana also didn’t smile during the mourning.

18. You knew that ‘Indira Gandhi’ was somebody really powerful and terribly important. And that’s all you needed to know.

19. The only ‘gadgets’ in the house were the TV, the Fridge and possibly a mixer.

20. All the gadgets had to be duly covered with a crochet covers and sometimes even with ingenious, custom-fit plastic covers.

21. Movies meant Rajesh Khanna or Amitabh Bachchan. Before the start of the movie you always had to suffer the obligatory ‘Newsreel’.

22. You thought you were so rocking because you knew almost all the songs of Abba and Boney M.

23. Your hormones went crazy when you heard ‘Disco Deewane’ by Naziya Hassan - Zoheb Hassan.

24. School teachers, your parents and even your neighbours could whack you and it was all okay.

25. Photograph taking was a big thing. You were lucky if your family owned a camera. A reel of 36 exposures was valuable hence it justified the half hour preparation ‘setting’ the ‘posing’ for each picture. Therefore, you have at least one family picture where everyone is holding their breath and standing at attention!

And we were really happy then….

First Love

With everyone writing about love, I too thought of joining the brigade. Although officially middle aged and certified jaded, I was young once and as a reed thin and gawky (read ugly) young man, I too yearned to find the love of my life. Now it was a different matter that all the beautiful girls in my college never even looked at me. (On honest retrospection, I really don’t blame them) But hormones being hormones, they were doing their job and I was pining away for the princess of my dreams.

And one day, I got it. A small crumpled note, thrown into my hostel room. (Those days there were no mobiles, no internet, no social websites. Cards were too expensive and the only acceptable way of conveying your sentiments were anonymous notes written on pages torn off our notebooks). I like you, it said in large feminine hand writing. I nearly swooned with excitement. I rushed to the bathroom, the only place where we got a modicum of privacy and gazed at it lovingly. I even smelled it, expecting it to be perfumed, but it smelled of formalin from the dissection hall of the anatomy department. I tried to imagine the girl behind the note, but my imagination boggled. I went around grinning like an idiot for a few days till my room mate got alarmed and offered to accompany me to the psychiatry department for a checkup. I politely declined and smiled inward. What does this retard know? I thought, a girl actually likes me.

After a fortnight, there was another one. A note, I mean and not a room mate. Did you get my previous note, it asked and went on to declare, I want to talk to you. Talk to me, wow, great, unbelievable. All I need to do is find the girl behind the note. And that was easier said than done. I spent the better part of the week sneaking looks at all my female classmates and trying to find the girl behind the note. But it was of no avail. There was not even a hint of interest in any of the kohl lined eyes. The stupid tutor caught me staring at the girls and kicked me out of the class for the day.

Another note came after a week. Why are you ignoring me, it asked plaintively, Why don’t you reply. Ignoring who???? And I want to reply! In fact I want to throw myself at your beautiful feet and kiss them till kingdom comes but how do I find you????? By now the testosterone and other sundry relations in my puny frame were at boiling point. Do you know what these are? The same hormones which make the she donkey appear beautiful to the he donkey and the female owl the most desirable to the male owl and all that. Got the drift? Good!

It was time to get some help. I confided in my close friends over a bottle of shared beer (as one bottle was all we could afford in those days of penury.) You are bullshitting; no girl will send you a note; someone is pulling your leg etc. were the universal verdict. At last my room mate (the same who had diagnosed me a loony) took the responsibility of hunting up the lady in question. He went about the job with a calm assurance (which even bordered on indifference to my palpitating heart) A day passed, two days, three and then a week and there was no progress. Relax, these things take time was his standard rejoinder to my constant pestering. The week turned to a month and there was no answer. Yes, he started staying away from the room for inordinately long periods of time.

Then I found out that he had been spending most of the time with a girl from my class in the canteen. I was aghast at this perceived act of betrayal. When I accused him of stealing my girl, he was unrepentant. Actually dude, the notes were meant for me. You simply picked them up by mistake, was his explanation.

Tweet

Flash fiction- 55 word stories

I have just one thing to say in defence of these stories. All of them are exactly 55 words.

The beer bar was shrouded in shadows. The dancers gyrated to raunchy bollywood numbers on the makeshift stage while the patrons gaped at them.
A group of young friends in a corner chatted animatedly. “Shit!” said one of them, pointing to a couple of middle aged men who had just entered. “My dad is here!”

 

***

The private detective listened as the lady said, “I am sure my husband is cheating on me. I want you to get me the proof so that I can divorce the insect.”
After she had left, the man sighed as he remembered that her husband had been in the previous day with a similar demand.
***

As the sunlight faded in the cold and foggy December evening, most of the working girls hurried home. Some had families to go back to while others went back to their respective working women hostels or PG accommodations.

However, for the girl with sad eyes, excessive make-up and cheap perfume, the day was just beginning.

 

***

Her husband was away to Bangkok.  

It’s a very important academic event and I simply can’t miss it, he had told her before going.She had smiled in acquiescence while feigning ignorance about his real motive.

She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hi sweetheart, today you can stay the whole night if you wish…. “

 

***

The midwife had been struggling with the delivery the whole night.

 It was a difficult case and they should have taken her to the city hospital, she grumbled.

But the family was poor and could ill afford the transport and the costs involved.

At last, the baby arrived and cried lustily. She smiled in relief.

 

***

 

It had been raining the whole night.

The overflowing river waters were threatening to enter the little hut where she lived with her three children.

 They had all spent the night huddled in the middle.

It stopped raining in the morning and the sun peeped through the clouds bringing with it a message of hope.

 

***

He stopped his car on seeing the roadside lunatic. 

Some Good Samaritan had left cooked rice and water on the sidewalk for the birds.

The mynahs and crows were having a feast and he was happily sharing their meal.  

He snapped a photograph on his mobile camera for his face book update and drove on.

***

He scoffed at the concept of ghosts. 

Was willing to spend a night in a haunted house to win a bet ; he took a flask of coffee and his ipod, made himself comfortable and waited for the night to end so that he could collect the money. 

The night never ended, at least for him.

 

 

 

 *** 

 

 

Room number 206, Sunrise Hotel.

Bored housewife ….afternoon trysts.
Fun as well as some cash.

Waiting for her next client. 

The bell chimes! She puts on her most seductive smile to usher him in.
Both stare at each other in utter shock. 

Wasn’t her husband supposed to be working in his office at that time?

 

Webpage of THE LONG ROAD

Please click the following link to visit the web-page of THE LONG ROAD.

Home - THE LONG ROAD

Doctors for the villages

The ill advised proposal by the central Govt. to start a three year degree course B.R.M.S to produce 'Doctors for the villages' is down-right stupid. It is pertinent to note that a similar experiment started by Chattisgarh Govt. in 2000 proved to be a major flop and was discontinued in 2004. I am sure not only the Medical fraternity but every right thinking individual endorses the view that producing half baked Doctors or poorly trained Medical personnel is not the solution to the problem of lack of medical facilities in rural India. There is nothing called 'Rural health' as compared to 'Urban health' as all of us are entitled to quality heath care whether we live in cities or in villages.The biggest challenge facing the healthcare infrastructure of our country is the plethora of 'Quacks' practising not only in the villages but in Metros as well. A recent survey by Indian Medical Association found out a huge numbers of such unqualified persons masqurading as Doctors in Delhi itself. If this is the state of affairs in the National capital, the condition of the rest of the country makes the imagination boggle.

So if the solution does not lie in producing more Official Quacks, what is the answer to this vexing problem? The answer lies in opening more Medical Colleges all over the country and also increaseing the capacuty of the functioning Medical Colleges. It is important to note that Medical Colleges are instumental in providing quality health-care to the people of the region in addition to producing quality health-care professionals year after year. The newer colleges may be located in rural/semi-urban areas of the country  instead of bigger cities. The number of M.B.B.S seats in India per year is around 31000 which is far from adequate compared to the population.

Another option is strenghtening the existing state health-care infrastructure with major incentives to all medical personnel who are posted in rural areas. The number of trained nurses, technicians and other support staff needs to be increased in addition to number of Doctors. Maybe giving M.B.B.S Doctors serving in villages for a specified period  credit for admission to Post Graduate courses will act as a major incentive.

Health education, improvement in environmental sanitation and better roads and communication will all go a long way in providing improved Health care facilities to the rural population.It is high time the policy makers of this country pay attention to these aspects rather than search for 'quick-fix' solutions which will do more harm than good in the long run.

Bird watching

Some photographs I took at Assan Barrage ( Near Dehradun) on 24.1.2010

The Brahminy Duck, called Surkhab in Hindi is a winter visitor to our land where it flies in from Tibet.

Pintail with a common teal in background

Brahminy ducks

Pintail

Water cock

Cormorant

Brahminy ducks

Egret

Some poems by Ms.C.Sinha

These are a few poems by Ms.C.Sinha, eminent educationalist. She taught English in St. Aloysius High School   Kanpur where I was a student. She is now retired and lives by herself in Kapur. I am posting these as a tribute to her and also as a treat to her countless students/ fans spread all over the world.

Dreams

A  collection of poems

Dedicated to my dear pupils of

St. Aloysius School , Kanpur.

C. Sinha

A deep  thought struck me

Rhymes, well suited

Come in the screen of mind uninvited.

I hunt for the reason recklessly,

My grieved heart says ‘it’s thy melancholy’.

I vow, therefore, to nestle in my heart,

Endearing memories that will never depart.

This will I achieve with help divine,

His Benedictions, on me, will surely shine.

My ‘Gopals’ are my oars-men strong,

The boat is steady and to them I belong.

What I adore

(I)

I love to stand on the sprawling

Green carpet lawns

Gazing endlessly at the blue sky

On a spring season dawn.

(2)

I love the swaying tress and their jingle

And my complete self to mingle,

With the orchestration of their symphony

Of music, gaiety and prefect harmony.

(3)

I love the quiet dark sky studded

With glowing diamond stars

As if summoning me from afar

At their grand celestial banquet.

I wish I had wings to fly

And enter the heavenly socket.

(4)

Alas! Here I stand on earthly ground

And amidst multifarious moaning sound

The studded stars gaze at amazement

At human hearts broken sentiment.

(5)

I love floating leaves during the fall season,

How they make onwards rush as to fulfill their noble mission

The roaring gushing waters play with the leaves

In a friendly embrace a relief they heave .

(6)

I love a violet on a mossy stone,

Half hidden from the eye.

Fair as a star,

When only one is shining on the sky.

(7)

I love a little lass in her new frock,

With her shy smile, in her light steps she walks,

To catch a butterfly among blossoms of flowers

Lo! A puff of breeze and then come the showers.

(8)

I love to see an infant yawn and smile

In her mothers cozy lap and the sleep awhile.

She has gone to her fantastic dreamland

Where fairies and angles welcome her in their wonder-land.

(9)

I love to see a schoolboy’s joy when falls the rain drops,

Farewell to books and slates as he merrily hops,

Where the rain water assembles in a pool

Splashing and jumping he does in water cool.

(10)
I love to hear a shrieking sky,

When a flash of lightening makes the firmament cry.

The cloudlets take an ominous hue

They set their empire on perfect blue.

(11)

I love to see Sibani didi coming from the market

With mouth watering treats peeping from her basket.

Waiting was a punishment, eating was merriment,

Sibani didi’s love for me  is a noble and graceful sentiment.

(12)

I love the gentle sheen of the moon

Peeping and travelling to put me to sleep soon.

Or I seek it hidden behind the stray clouds

The stars accompany the moon with symphony sounds.

(13)

I love the temple bells ringing

When I utter my prayers in singing

Gently asking for his forgiveness

For all that has gone amiss and pray for his togetherness.

(14)

I adore the swaying branches of the neem tree by my window

I love to linger under its gentle shadow.

And travel far away in your imagination

To the land of my departed dear ones fold of affection.

(15)

Life was free, filled with fun and frolic,

In their absence it is agonizing and melancholic.

The memories are an invaluable treasure.

And a source of perennial pleasure.

(16)

In this vast play-ground of life,

Where there is conflict and strife.

Confer on us thy benevolence and grace

And in our sorrow and suffering, offer solace.

(17)

My prayers are for human kind,

Let goodness prosper in human mind.

(18)

Sibani didi’s voice was my protection,

Her words were my consolation.

She was mine guardian angle,

I am a devotee in her Holy Temple.

A growing Teenager’s musings

Life is a maze in pattern,

Sometimes high in hope

Sometimes low in tantrums.

Blissful are the days of innocence,

When one is dipped in ignorance.

Merrily the life’s hours go by,

In the sky of whims and fancy we fly.

Alas, inch by inch we grow,

And life in shades challenges throw.

Torturing competition, vicious career hunting,

And what not,

Act as bullet shot!!

Of sounds ‘Terrorism’ in action

Oh God! Give us the armour of protection.

Thy blissful touch we  crave for,

Keep us in your love- corridor.

Thou art our healing balm,

To our turbulent mind to attain calm.

Bless us to achieve near perfection,

We bow our heads

 To your ever flowing Benediction.

A Bliss

Far from the haunt of materialistic gain,

Far from deception, flattery and pain,

I wish to recline on arms of tranquility

I crave for green linnet’s beauty.

The holy nature’s lap is my dreamland,

I love to hear its eternal symphony grand,

The unknown land, infinite path, dense forest,

I call my domain merriest.

How sweet to recline here,

Where every object holds dear.

It is my land of joy and gaiety,

Where peace and serenity tells its piety.

Come dear folks, hold my hand,

Rolling, jumping & hopping, as we are a merry band.

The wide spread nature is our sole canopy.

Bruised by High-tech bugs, it is the only therapy.

A Reflection

I long for Sibani didi’s love & affection,

Care, concern, togetherness & jubilation.

Her cuisine talent was unique

In the kitchen she never felt the fatigue.

Everybody knew her in the market.

Be it vegetables, flowers, milk or sweetmeat basket.

Welcome Sister, come to my shop.

The call was all around, She couldn’t decide where to stop.

She obliged everyone to our heart’s desire.

They were her bosom friends for who she will aspire.

Now her absence from the familiar scenes,

Is agonizing, painful and heart rending by all means.

Here I sit in solitariness,

My heart dipped in vastness

Of innumerable scenes of her goodness,

Pity, sympathy, smiles and great humane-ness.

Oh Sibani didi,

Thy soul is like a star

That dwells apart.

MY DEVOTED PRONAM TO YOU, MY BELOVED SISTER SIBANI DIDI.

My prayer

Corruption Eruption!!

O’ my dear country, where is thy salvation?

Our floors of Legislature are heaving with commotion,

‘National consensus’ has turned into a dry emotion.

O’ India thou are seething in division,

Our personal ethics has suffered an erosion,

‘Fractured verdict’, ‘Poll alliance’, and ‘Hung parliament’

What illustrious coinage of words

To spell the story of sad predicament.

Fraud, extortion, rigging, abduction and assassination,

The list is endless and frightening.

The blood turns cold, the body feels the tremors

At these tales so dehumanising.

Caesar cried ‘Et tu, Brute, then fall Caesar’

Ingratitude- the sin that made Brutus to conquer…

The victory through sin is always ephemeral.

O’ mankind, wake up to the sublime call of deeds moral.

Is not our country with glorious history replete?

Truth, non-violence, Panchsheel,

Have they not been our weapons concrete?

Has not been our land been an epitome of culture?

Glowing with the presence of Buddha, Asoka, Gandhi,

Ramkrishna and Vivekanand- such glowing texture!

Should we let our good conscious sleep?

And stand obdurate, when degenerations creep?

Let us rise up in arms, let the bugles chime,

To face the onslaught of this troubled time.

 Let us gird our loins and start the crusade

Against the ills that try to masquerade.

‘Unity in diversity’ is no more a euphoric decoration.

Let us worship it as a ‘Holy Declamation’.

O’ you sprouting generation,

Wake up with your genuine veneration.

Be the future advocates of ‘Conscience dominated consensus’

Let Mother India feel proud of such genius.

O’  you bureaucrats and guardians of the country,

Rise as one man where democracy is buried at the cemetery.

Let us put on our moral armour without any loss of time,

And crush the typhoon of terror which is at its prime.

Let us walk with honour, ours heads held high,

Into the region of delight which will be neigh.

Let us rise above petty conflicts,

To free ourselves from the wound it inflicts.

In unison, we pray,

Give us the strength and voice, Oh Lord

So that we may

Shed off our personal sedition

And labour ceaselessly towards the creation

To make our country’s name

Glow in the community of nations.

Vivacious T-20 Victory- September 2007

Our country’s Cliff-hanging Final Victory,

Will ever gleam and glitter in pages of History.

The traditional rival Pakistan,

Bow at India’s super stunt.

The victory brigade in early twenty range,

Reflected robust optimism for a climate change.

We call it a ‘spectacular’ achievement,

Ecstasy poured forth in a cascade of merriment. 

Strange unity bound North, South, East & West of India,

Euphoric music tumbled down from the Media.

Dhoni sounded like ‘Alexander the Great’

India’s millions found in him a lovely mate.

‘Chak de India’ of Badshah S.R. Khan,

Created mighty ripples in Glorious Hindustan.

Sensex danced at momentous glory,

As if to relate the grand saga of Cricket Victory.

It was a day of massive celebration,

The heroes homecoming soaked in jubilation.

The heavens showered blessings of rain drops,

Mother earth uttered ‘ Cricketers, you are India’s bountiful crop.’

T-20 warriors are a living monument,

When aim was achieved with firm commitment.

Determination, discipline, optimism, team-spirit & inspiration,

Will ever be crowned with success and aim escalation.

Wake up, Young India, to the call of noble duty,

Which may offer the young a grand plethora of Celebrity.

Jai ho India, rich is thy soil.

Bring blessings to those who genuinely toil.

May your tribe multiply,

And the fragrance spread far and wide.