The Funeral

It was a day of funeral,

Everything seemed surreal,

The silence within made noise,

Mourners stood with poise.

The coffin lay on the ground,

Honesty’s kin were all around,

Truth and ethic to name a few,

Paid homage that was long due.

Calmness of the martyr’s face,

Brought shame to disgrace,

Will we persist? Mob wondered,

Consoling thoughts heart rendered.

Would people live on sleazy means?

Where are values on which humanity leans?

Storm within the soul shall spur,

Moral that will confiscate the blur.

Will raise a phoenix from ashes,

Embark a journey from scratches,

Righteousness & virtue shall prevail,

Conscience will follow honesty’s trail.

                            Written by: Shuchita Shukla




By the way....I always wonder....does this thing look like a poem....ever...

The Abode (Home)

Yeah! I too have a HOME. I am its third pillar. Its more like La Torre Di Pisa (The Leaning Tower of Pisa).

Obviously the bend is due to faulty construction of the third pillar. My childhood saw dad as the unbeatable ruler, mom as the angle; me the black sheep and sis the scapegoat.

Things have changed. I sometimes wonder that dad would resemble RK Laxman’s Common Man in a few years. Mom would bear no resemblance to anyone except herself. And Nisha……. I don’t want to get into any controversy.

Hey! I have a home away from home. Chachu’s family. Chachu….. a bureaucrat by choice, a person gaining wisdom faster than knowledge and a hard core fan of Raju Srivastava. Chachi….. a housewife by chance, a homemaker by profession epitome of grace, most practical and normal human being. Kids…..the Sober, the Sharp and the Naughty……

The Great Fall

Reaching office by a rickshaw has never been less than a dangerous Safari. That morning everything seemed quite in place except my fate. The moment I climbed the rickshaw…… I was flat on the ground! Alas! Not my fault…..Nah! ” I can’t be wrong the third time too!”

I wonder who went into the technical designing part of these rickshaws. Somehow I am not compatible with them.

Well, I laid crucified on the road with a purse in one hand and lunch pack in the other. The sky above me seemed bright blue. I wondered how long I could stay that way. The road gave support to me in every possible way. It was the end of the world….. I could not hear any sound….

Someone yelled at the rickshaw puller in the local accent… “Arrey madam ko utha to deta” It was time to get up and move on….. The great fall of Roman Empire was put to shame.

Later in the evening I realized that these rickshaws won’t help and that the only vehicle suitable for me would be Harry Potter’s Broom… Neither too high to get a passport, nor too low to get a license…..

Dental Woes

Going to a dentist was never a good experience. I lost three teeth and two are in queue. Few have cavities. Well thats all about my dental history.

My encounter with dentist dates back to 1998 when I was in 12th standard. He was the best Dental Surgeon (civil engineer….at least that is what I perceived when I saw his tools) in town and he kept visiting USA, Germany and Italy for guest lectures (Guest appearances of Hindi Movies). And as we Indians always believe that whatever is foreign return is the best….( we love wearing all the flop brands of foreign countries) I too made him my dental Godfather. Anyways its a long and painful story. Better known as “Inheritance of loss”.

And as history repeats itself….I am once again about to undergo the same big procedure like bridge building(bridges which are sure to fall), crown mounting (princess of lost empire) and root canal (digging canals like municipal corporations). Of course this time I have got a brand name to boast about…Fortis…..and a financial crunch to cry about…. Well friends don’t worry…. I am bold enough to take up this endeavour and shall keep updating.

My New Phone Number....

Well its after a long time….. I mean a post on my blog. (As though I have great fan following and people are really waiting for this write up…).

Mobile phones have now become part of life or say life itself for some people…. at least for Mr. Ram Avatar. I came to know a lot about this great person only a few days back when got a new number for myself. He has a big social circle and people from all over the world keep calling him. He is a major client of HDFC, CitiBank & ICICI, in fact these Banks are running “Ram Avatar Bharose” (from the number of calls I get from these banks….. this can be easily inferred).
And he has great friends or so.

Local Mandi

Ah! Its Monday again. A day for me to come across the local intelligence vis-à-vis the so called cosmopolitan intellect.

 

Sometimes I really wonder whether my weekly need of green grocery is the real cause of my visit to “Local Mandi” .
But there is one thing which I am pretty sure of………I come here to sharpen the smooth edges of my brain. The Mandi is an excellent place where the above mentioned two kinds of intelligence come face to face and it is generally the second one which takes the back-seat. Let me quote a self experienced anecdote to prove this.
I asked one of the vendors to weigh Coriander leaves. He put some in the Beam Balance which did not have the pointer.Me: Arey! Ismein to kanta hi nahi hai.
Vendor: Koi baat nahi madam.
Me (Little frowning): Arey, kaise koi baat nahi? Ye to sarasar baimani hai.
Vendor (smiling in order to calm me down): Oh madam gussa kyun hote ho. Itne saare tarazuoan mein to dikh raha hai na. Ek mein nahi bhi dikha to kya fark padta hai?
A smile came up to support his logic. And it was mine.
I have done MBA and people call me creative too. But I would like to tell you all, that people whom I come across in Mandi are far more “Creative, Smart and Intelligent Executives” who not only know how to manage their business but also pick up knowledge from thin air and accommodate accordingly with their changing environment.
They do not know the latest terms coined by our so called “Management Gurus” but then they are applying all of them in their own way….be it “The Customer Delight” or anything else.

I have bought my green grocery and I am heading towards home. My bags are full of vegetables of all kinds and my thought process is infused with brilliant ideas. Suddenly somebody shouts ” Gusse mein lal gaajar, loot lo………”

Traces of Twilight

Huh! The above-mentioned words sound strange. Not to me!
To trace these traces let me take an about turn and walk twenty years back, when a quarter rupee was equal to one twentieth of a kilo of "Palakova"* or "Dilli-pak"*.
Everyday Nisha & I waited for the twilight. Ours was a modest residential colony in the foothills of Tirumala Hills. Synonymous to silence were the evenings, which appeared darker in the shadows of huge coconut trees.

Insect choir took centersatge. And then we heard the soft tinkle of a bell followed by a softer voice calling out "Palakova".... before the next tinkle, we sisters were out in the porch. From the dark appeared a vendor carrying a huge rectangular plate on his head. The taste and the aroma of the sweet was never different. The vendor never spoke another word (he must not have .....otherwise I would have remembered). As far as I remember, it was Mom who generally paid him. He never asked for more. The quantity and the price was fixed.

And after this exchange he would silently slip into the dark. It was not that the street was poorly lit, instead it had white tube lights mounted on the electric poles erected at equal distances. But the ends of the street always seemed darker. On one side of the street flowed a small stream full of clear water, colourful pebbles, fishes and green algae and on the other were huge houses covered with lush green plants and trees.

Towards night we never heard of any activity other than rustle of bicycle tyres against the road. Similar was the experience with "Dilli Pak's" vendor. the only difference was that he had a cart that needed to be pushed, a lamp, a better ringing bell and a coconut sweet too.

The soft sounds which filled the twilight of my street are safe in the depth of hearts..... Nisha's & Mine ...... a wonderful sweet feeling......

Note: * - The milk cake and soan cake in its best form. A sweet typical of Tirupati.

I randomly picked these paintings from google images..