Our Real Heritage

Politics, Cricket and Movies are the three most talked about topics in India. It would not be wrong to say that these three things are integral part of our life. Politics is into our nerves. We live with it and the whole country is dependent on it. Cricket is our religion. If there is any sport in India which is followed by all the people irrespective of their age, it has to be cricket. We follow no other game but cricket. And lastly, we all are movie buff.  If we don’t watch a movie every weekend, the whole week seems so incomplete. Movies are the all-time favorite gossip topic for us because we don’t know any other subject better (how ignorant we are). To sum up the three topics, I shall say few intellectuals (and largely the common man) talk about politics, crazy fans about cricket and ignorant people about movies and Bollywood. It is really a high time since the intellectuals instead of just talking really changed our political system, the crazy fans followed some other sports (change the game) and the ignorant do some worthwhile than just gossiping about the movies.

But let’s not talk about these things (there are many idiots to discuss these topics). I intend to talk about the fourth thing which we all Indians live for and it has to be food. I don’t know whether it’s one of the most talked about topics in India or not but I am sure that we Indians are truly and madly are in love with our food.  Some people live to eat and some people eat to live but let’s not go to the philosophical mode. Historically also, India was famous for its food and spices. So famous that it eventually became the reason for our slavery.

Every State and every region has its own delicacy. Be it Rajasthani, Gujarati, Marathi, South Indian (apologies for being so general), Bengali or any other State for that matter, each one has its unique taste and identity. Also, not to forget the contribution of Mughals in developing the rich heritage of the Indian Cuisine. No doubt that tandoori chicken is among the top favorite food in Britain. From starters to deserts, Indian cuisine is full of mouthwatering dishes. But it will be really unfair if I don’t mention about the Chaat food or the Street food of India. There is so much of zayka in the street food of India that one can die for it. 

There is so much to write about the Indian Cuisine that a whole blog can be dedicated to it. We have such a rich and unique heritage in form our cuisine that it is a part of our cultural heritage. Our food and eating habits represents India really in an incredible form. So let’s not distort our food heritage but promote it. I am not against the western food (pizza, pasta etc.); in fact I love it but let’s not give pizza a preference over a dosa. Why only Ranjnikant can order an idli from McDonalds, let’s make this joke a reality. Let’s make our food a part of sustainable development.

The Big Diet

Kunal, like any other kid, was born to a middle class family in a small town of Madhya Pradesh. But his habits were a bit different from other kids. Many young kids put non-food substances in their mouth at one time or another. They are naturally curious about their environment and eat some dirt or any other non-eatable items. But with Kunal, this curiosity was more persistent. 

Initially Kunal’s parents didn’t mind his unusual eating habits but they soon realized that there was something really abnormal with their child. Eating non-food items became his habit. Eating dust was common. He used to eat the toothpaste instead of using it for brushing his teeth’s. First time he held pencil and paper in his hands, he didn’t write but started eating them. Glue was a delicacy for him. Clay, soap, hair, plaster, paint, color, chalk, match-stick, he ate them all. There was hardly any non-food item left which he didn’t put in his mouth. He even ate his own fecal matter. 

Kunal’s parents consulted a local doctor but owing to his limitations he couldn’t understand Kunal’s problem. It was only after Kunal got admitted to a hospital due to food poisoning, he was diagnosed with Pica (pronounced as paika). Pica is an eating disorder, in which people develops an insatiable urge to eat non-food substances, more common in young kids. Interestingly, the word pica is derived from a Latin word for magpie, a bird known for its large and indiscriminate appetite. Till date, the experts have found no specific cause and cure for this disorder. 

There were no specific medicines to cure Kunal. He needed a psychiatrist’s treatment. But curing a child through psychiatrist’s help was not that easy. Regular sessions, all time parental guidance, and some new and unique methods were employed to cure him. Nutritive food camouflaged in non-food items was being given to him. Slowly Kunal’s eating habits started to become normal and finally after 2 years Kunal was totally like any other young kid.

The button not seen

Today was my first polling experience. I was very excited for this day, not because I wanted to vote but because of the one day off from my work. A day off from work is such a big relief. The campaigning was on full swing by all the political parties, rallies all over the state, media coverage on its peak. Everyone is expecting a turnaround this time.  

Every Indian citizen gets this opportunity only once in five years. As a responsible and aware citizen I went to the polling station (a school, nearby) to cast my vote at around 3 O’ Clock and as expected there was no long queue at the polling center. I had no idea whom to vote. The concerned persons verified my voter identity card and then I went inside the classroom still wondering whom to give my one precious vote. There were lots of red colored buttons on the Electronic Voting Machine with different symbols ranging from ‘Cycle’ to ‘Elephant’. But I was looking for a button with no symbol. I didn’t wanted to vote anyone in the list. I wanted to vote no one. I wanted to reject them all. I have heard that Our Constitution provides us a ‘right to reject’. But I couldn’t find that button.

I took a minute or two and finally decided not to cast my vote at all. I got out of the polling booth without even voting and came to home. Rule 49 (o) of The Conduct of Election Rules, 1961 provides us a right to reject. But the government has not notified the same till date for the obvious reasons. My decision not to vote, may not be a right one, may be it was not in conformity with the true democratic spirit, maybe I did not dispense with my duty as a responsible citizen. But what is the way the way out when you don’t find any candidate worthy of your precious vote. I am waiting for the button not seen.

उड़ने दो पतंग

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तो  बाकी है आसमान 

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तोह बाकी है उड़ान 

दूसरी पतंगों का डर  नहीं मुझे 

बस हवाओं में लेहेराना है 

तारों से भी दूर है मंजिल मेरी 

अपना रास्ता बनाते हुए आगे निकल जाना  है            

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तो बाकी है आसमान 

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तोह बाकी है उड़ान

मज़बूत और तेज़ है मांजा मेरा 

किसी से भी लड़ जाऊँगा 

अँधेरे का भी डर नहीं 

रात में भी उड़ जाऊँगा 

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तो बाकी है आसमान 

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तोह बाकी है उड़ान

कट भी गया तो कोई दुख नहीं 

फिज़ा  के साथ कही और पहुच जाऊँगा 

जिसको भी मिला उसी के साथ उड़ जाऊँगा  

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तो बाकी है आसमान ............

उड़ने दो पतंग अभी तो बाकी है उड़ान......

View from the top of my building

Sometimes one incident changes the course of life, for me it was about 15 years ago. I was at home doing nothing so I decided to go at the top of my building to get a nice view of the city. I was all alone there. From there, I could see the whole city, it was a slum at one side and the high rise towers on the other. But it was the slum side which attracted me more, I kept on staring that side and a weird thought of spending a whole day in a slum struck my mind. I told my parents about my decision to live in a slum for a day and to my surprise they didn’t opposed it.

It was about six in the evening; I left home and moved to that slum. I was going to live their life for 24 hours. As soon as I went through those shabby shanties, which they called home, children playing with the tyre and tubes came to me hoping for a chocolate but I had nothing with me, not even a single penny. I also started playing with them but soon realized that it was getting darker. I also needed a shanty for spending the whole night. I went deeper into the slum. It was almost the meal time for the slum dwellers and now I was one of them. I saw a woman making dough for the chapattis, all the flies were also a part of the meal making process. I couldn’t even look at that. A family allowed me to spend a night in their shack. It was one big family of as many as 4 girls and 3 boys. I could not even eat that food, but it was a full dinner for them. There were electric wires but no electricity. Empty stomach, it was time to sleep with the good company of mosquitos, and some frightening sound. In the morning, to my anticipation there was sanitation system. I attended the nature’s call in natural environment. I was one of them.


Well, to my relief some children did went to school and for the rest, I was their teacher for the day. When all the children came we had lunch together. Now, I was feeling one of them. The day passed without any happening. My 24 hours were completed. I went home. There was delicious food but I could not eat it, there were no mosquitos but still I could not sleep. Today, 15 years after, here I stand, chief minister of ‘Uttam Pradesh’, youngest CM of any state, right in front that place but there is no slum. All are resettled in a better place. The state has the highest GDP. There is development all over. 

Par aaj bhi dil mein yehi sawaal hai…..have I made it large.

Too strong or too weak

A few years back, my friend, Aman, committed suicide because he failed in his class 12 examinations. Every year there are hundreds of students who commit suicide because of the same reasons. And there are thousands of people all over the world who commit suicide because of one or the other reason. To me, even the thought of committing suicide is formidable.

Just recalling Aman’s act made me think that was he too strong at that time or too weak. It can only be either of the two possibilities. Committing suicide is not like doing some mischievous acts, it is one of the gravest sins in mankind.  A person needs to be too strong to do such an act. He must be too determined, too courageous and too strong in committing this gravest sin. And the next possibility is that he is too weak, too coward and too helpless face the reality or the failure of life.

But these thoughts led me to a more confused state of mind. If a person is strong enough to kill him, if he has that much courage to put an end to his life then why can’t he fight against all the odds and start all over again, why can’t he give a fresh breathe of air, a new hope of sunlight to his life.

If a person is so weak that he cannot overcome the shadow of failure then from where does that courage to commit the suicide comes. It means that the Courage which comes at the spur of the moment, over shadows the optimistic ray of hopes. This could be because the negative vibes are much stronger than the positive ones. But if those strong feelings minus the negativity can be stretched even a bit more, it can easily be converted into the positivity of life or if that weakness can be further weakened then the person would not be able to commit that sin and then as we all know life finds its own ways.

But, whatever the solution be, this vicious circle of too strong or too weak goes on and on.

वो पुरानी डायरी

उन किताबों में एक पुरानी डायरी भी थी 

थोड़ी धूल जमी  थी   उस  पर, 

खुद  हाथो  से   साफ़  किया 

पन्ने  कुछ  पीले  पढ़  चुके  थे  उसके  

और  आँखों  से  एक  आंसू  छलक  कर   गिर  पड़ा  उस  पर   

उन किताबों में एक पुरानी डायरी भी थी

कुछ  खट्टी, कुछ  मीठी 

यादें  बसी  थी  उसमे, 

गुलाब  का  एक  फूल  भी  था   उसमे   

पत्तियाँ  सूख  के टूट  चुकी  थी  उसकी  

पर  खुशबू   अभी  भी  बाकी  थी उसमे  

उन किताबों में एक पुरानी डायरी भी थी

कुछ  सालो  पहले  खो  गई  थी  मेरी  डायरी, 

आज  मिली  तो  याद  आ  गई  

उन स्याही के दिनों  की 

और  लौट  आई  जीने  की  आस  

पर  आज  न  वो  स्याही  है  न  ही  वो  दिन 

मैंने  खुद  को  खो  दिया  है  कही 

उन किताबों में एक पुरानी डायरी भी थी.........

The Diary

It was a very usual winter morning, cold, foggy and shivery. But something very unusual was to happen. I left the home for my work. I was waiting for the bus at the bus stop and suddenly I heard a bang, it was an accident. I immediately rushed at the spot. People had already gathered but no one took the initiative to take the young man to the hospital. I called an auto and took him to the nearest hospital. I was checking his bag to inform his relatives but the doctors declared him dead. Mr. Anand Sharma, read his identity card. I informed his family members only about the accident. There was also a Diary along with many other things in his bag.

Here are some excerpts from his diary which, I think, revealed the reason of his accident….

21/01/2009

Today, the company announced that it’s on cost cutting regime. List of all the victims of this austerity drive will shortly be announced. Everyone is silent. Grim atmosphere has engulfed the office. Each one is praying for himself.

27/01/2009

The list was announced today. 14 employees are retrenched. Fortunately, I escaped the noose today but another list is soon expected. Keeping my fingers crossed.

30/01/2009

I am out. This week will be my last at work. Nobody knows about this at home. I don’t have the courage to tell the truth to my family members.

02/02/2009

It was my last day at work. I haven’t told anything at home. I don’t know what I am going to do from tomorrow.

08/02/2009

It’s almost a week, daily i leave home pretending as if I am going to the office. Roaming here and there, applying for the job. But there are no jobs. At least for a year there is no vacancy. There are job cuts everywhere. Hopelessness creeping in.

This was his last entry in the diary. He met with the accident on the very next day.

When his family came, I handed over his belongings to his family except the diary. I don’t know, I was right or wrong in doing so. I am not sure; it was an accident or a suicide. But I don’t want his family to know about this.

Being Perfect

A perfect human being is one who is full of imperfections. One trait of such a perfect being is ‘desire’. The trait to desire for more and more. This trait is present in each and every one of us. Human is never contended with what he has. He desires for more. He wishes for more. There is no end to his desires. He doesn’t die in peace and probably this is the only reason for saying Rest In Peace (R.I.P) after death. But does the soul really Rest In Peace. Let’s see what happens after we say R.I.P….

Mr. Harish met with an accident and died on the spot. Harish had lots of desires but all his life he dreamt of being a rich person (though money is the most common subject but still the best to write on).

After the death, Harish found that he was in a place full of money. Unlimited wealth. Unlimited gold. All for him. Only him. And then he wished, why he didn’t die earlier. He was happy. Then he wished for the world’s most exotic food and it was all there. He ate till he felt like busting. He, then, wished for clothes and there appeared the best brands in the world. He never felt so happy in his entire life. He was celebrating. Whatever he wished appeared before him. Death was better than life.

But suddenly he realized that he was alone. There was no one close to him. He, then, wished for his family, relatives and friends. No one appeared. He was still alone. The feeling of loneliness was creeping in. Happiness turned into depression. He had everything in the world except his family. There was no one to celebrate with him. He wished not to be alone and the next second, the place got crowded with lots of people. Some were sad. Some were crying. Some were depressed. No one was happy. They all desired for something or the other in their life but died without achieving those desires. Their desires were fulfilled after death but there was no one to celebrate with them. 

Their last desire still remained unfulfilled. There was no peace even after the death. Death was not better than life anymore.

Marriages are made in Heaven

I saw a young gentleman at a bookstore who picked up a book titled “Marriages are made in Heaven” and moved towards the counter but then the destiny had to play its part, the gentleman hit me. But to be honest, I hit him intentionally just to pick up a conversation with him and perhaps he also realized my malicious act.

I am sorry uncle, he said.

Oh it was actually my mistake, I should have been more careful; I replied and picked up the novel.

So, beta, are you getting married, I asked and returned the book to him

Next week uncle, he answered.

Do you really believe that marriages are made in heaven, I asked him very casually.

I think that it’s all destiny. I met Sneha at a function five years ago and since then we have been together. We love each other and finally we have decided to marry.  So, yes I do believe that marriages are made in heaven, the gentleman explained to me.

I laughed and asked if he was gifting the book to his to be wife and offered him to sit.

No, to my ex-wife. I am a divorcee, my first marriage was an arranged one, he said and sat down. But it took me a moment to realize what he said.

But you look quite young, I sat and enquired.

Yes, I got married when I was 22 and got divorced at 23, he replied very calmly.

But why did you got divorced, I was quite restless in asking this question.

She was impotent so I divorced her, he answered.

And it took me another moment to gulp down what did he just said.

I didn’t dare to ask him any other question and decided to end the conversation but it was too late for me to move out of the scene.

He instantly fired a question at me asking uncle, you look quite matured, what’s your say on this topic.

I am still unmarried, son, I replied and this came as a shock to him.

But why, he asked and this time he was more restless than me.

If i was married, I replied, it would not have been possible for me to write this national best-selling novel which you are holding.

The gentleman immediately opened the book to match my face with that in the book and then I started laughing. I was just joking. I was laughing at him and he had no option but to laugh at his foolishness.

The truth is, I continued but this time more seriously, that I also loved someone but she married some another person. That lady, my son, is your mother.

He looked at me dumbstruckly, smiled hesitantly, and said you are again joking, right.

No, I said with a straight face and he went pale.

The gentleman dropped the book and just ran out of the bookstore.

And I had the last laugh….