Aye Mohabbat

Aye mohabbat tere anjaam per rona aaya

Jaane kyon aaj tere naam pe ron aaaya

Begum Akhtar’s ghazal was playing on the radio and how true were the timeless lyrics that said that love more often than not begets sadness and tragedy.

Kabhi taqdir ka maatam, kabhi duniya ka gila

Manzil-e-ishk mein har gamm pe rona aaya

Sometimes it is your fortune that fails you and, in other times, the world at large keeps complaining and resisting against your wishes. Love has always been a struggle from time immemorial and, more often than not, the two souls have to fight every inch of the way from family to society. It has been glorified and romanticized in our movies right from Mughal-e-Azam, where the heir apparent Prince Salim fought his father, Emperor Akbar, in a bloody battle, who disapproved of his love for a court dancer Anarkali, to Bobby where Raj Nath and Bobby Braganza fall in love and are almost driven to suicide to prove their undying love. 

In today’s world we have a new breed of moral keepers who wake up around Valentine’s Day and create a ruckus showing off their vigilantism. As if this was not enough, now strange and lop sided laws have been enacted to prevent inter-faith marriages which are being misused by the cops and the mobs. How ironical that the term the love between people of two faiths as ‘Love Jihad’ failing to understand that love is a jihad in itself irrespective of religion. Surely, if the people enacting such backward looking laws were to undergo a psychiatric examination, the results will show that these are the mad and sad souls who have either been spurned or have never known love of any kind in their lives and are hell bent on making lives of others painful. When all the religions of the world speak of love and compassion towards fellow human beings, how can these handful and hateful be allowed to run amok….all in the name of God?

Sharing with you something written long ago, but is relevant even today, about the struggle called love.

Same Old Tree

Do you remember, Amina

When the clouds would gather

How I would run and get the rope

And you would get the wooden board

I would quickly climb

This same old tree

And then we would swing

And when I would push you hard

You would start crying

No Raj, I never cried

I made shrieking cries

There were never any tears

But I liked it the best

When you would stand above and heave

The swing with your strong legs

How safe I felt sitting below

Together we would swing high

Together we would sing

From the same old tree.

 

Do you remember,  Amina

When you used to return from the madrasa

I would wait under this old tree

I would bunk school

Just to make sure I was here

Same time same place

Never wanted to miss a day

Never wanted to miss you

How much you would scold me

Then take out your books

To teach me

Sitting under this same old tree

Books never interested me

So just kept looking at you

Watching your lovely eyes blinking

Your tender moving lips

All of it and more

Sitting under the same old tree

 

Was this not the same old tree, Raj

From where you picked the flowers

So many of them

And then made a garland

It was so beautiful a garland

I thought you had made it for the temple

But then you gave it to me

I kept it hidden in my bag for many days

Till they started drying

Then just kept a flower in the Koran

And every time I bowed to pray

Felt a happiness beyond words

The flower still remains dried as ever there

But the fragrance of the flower

I can still feel even today

Happiness I can still feel today

Maybe the flowers are blooming, once more today

Up above on the branches

As we stand below, swinging

From the same old tree.

 

How many evenings

We sat below holding hands

Looking up at the dark sky

With twinkling stars

And the shining moon

Staring at us, smiling at us

As we dreamt

Dreamt of a beautiful life together

Dreamt of happiness in each other

All under the same old tree.

 

Why did they do this to us, Raj

Hang us from the same old tree

Raj, did you not say

Your God spoke of love, kindness, compassion

Taught love for all

So did my God

Love for all

Yet our love they said was against the Gods

How they forgot love and mercy

When they put the rope

That once hung the swing

On our slender necks

Pulled us up so hard

As we cried

And they laughed

For once, those who never agreed

Stood together as one

All religions surely must be the same

All Gods must also be the same

For look, how united they stood today

Those who were always at each others’ throats

Together they have pulped our throats

And left us swinging, hanging

From the same old tree.

 

Give me your hand Amina

Let me give you one last kiss

Ha Ha

Did we ever kiss earlier, Amina

No, not really

So many times I asked

But you would never agree

Raj, I too wanted you to hold me

Touch me gently

Kiss me…..

But remained a coward

Afraid of my people, your people

Till they caught us

Sitting under the same old tree

Here take my arm

Kiss me goodbye

Hold me tight, kiss me

One last time

As we, hang together

From the same old tree

One last time together

No fear of the swing today

Just the joy of the flowers above

And our loving togetherness below

And as we swing far away into the stars

It never will ever be

The same old tree.

 

Aye mohabbat tere anjaam per rona aaya

Jaane kyon aaj tere naam pe ron aaaya

 SS

The Road Less Taken

“Congratulations to Amitav Sinha for completing five years of service”, a message flashed on the laptop screen as the mobile phone started ringing. It was Amitav calling. Sharad picked it up.

“Thank you, Sir, for trusting me and supporting me. If it were not for you, I would never have achieved this milestone today.”

Sharad smiled and remembered the day he had interviewed Amitav for a role as a sales manager. He liked the energy the young lad exhibited in the short twenty-minute exchange and he had no hesitation in recommending him for the position.

After completing the paper work, Amitav got his appointment letter and joined work. In no time the boy was living up to the expectations of his seniors by recruiting a large number of agents and sourcing business not only from the existing ones but activating a large number of dormant ones.

All seemed pleased with his work. Amitav always seemed to be a man in a hurry for he would jump from one work to the next but a childlike, impish smile never left his face, no matter how hard a task he was performing. Sharad was much too senior in the hierarchy to have daily interaction with him but kept a watch on all the new recruits and their performance which included monthly sales reviews and meeting channel partners along with the sales managers.

Half the year went by and all seemed fine till, one day, the lady in Human Resource Department knocked on Sharad’s cabin and walked in.

“We have a problem with Amitav. While doing his background check we found this letter which is fabricated.”

Sharad took the paper in his hand and saw that the letter was from a multi-national bank where Amitav was said to have worked after quitting an earlier assignment with another financial services company. While the letterhead seemed fine and so did the contents but during the process of verification with the signatory and the bank, both had denied that Amitav had worked with them. They had confirmed that the letter was made up by Amitav on a letterhead which he, possibly, managed to obtain through someone working at the bank.

“This is an open and shut case. He has to go.”

“It took you people six months to do the background check and you finally managed to dig out something after we have confirmed the employee,” interjected Sharad.

“Sharad, we are sorry for the delay but it still is no reason for anyone to commit a fraud. It does not matter when such an act is discovered but we need to act strongly to send out the right signal to the other employees that these things will not be tolerated.”

“Please leave the letter with me for a day. I need to speak to the boy.”

Amitav was summoned and he arrived at Sharad’s cabin around seven in the evening when the rest of the staff had moved out for the day. Amitav had no clue about what was in store for him and was full of life and chirpiness even while shaking hands with Sharad who seemed tense and upset.

“Amitav, you need to be completely honest with me. HR has found that this letter you had submitted about your professional career is fabricated and false. I need to know the truth, the absolute truth, since the HR policies are very clear on such cases…..immediate termination.”

Amitav took the letter from Sharad’s hands and read it. For once the smile left his face.  He could not raise his eyes to look at Sharad yet, in a trembling voice, he spoke.

“Yes Sir. This letter is false and made up by me. I was doing well in my previous company when a friend in this multi-national bank told me about an opening there. I was interviewed and got a call from their personnel department who, after negotiating the terms, even sent me an offer. It was a big opportunity and the raise in salary was very good. I immediately resigned from my company in order to immediately join the bank. The bank, however, sent me a regret letter stating that they had offered my position to another candidate who had sent his acceptance of their offer before me. I begged of them but they did not relent. For six months I did not have a job. Every morning I would leave home as if I was going for my regular work and return home after spending time with friends and sitting at cafes sending resumes to a whole lot of places. How could I tell my parents that I did not have a job? Finally, the offer came from this company but to cover up the gap in service, I created this letter.”

Sharad took back the letter and asked the boy to leave for home while he sat down looking out of the window in his room at the illuminated multi-storied buildings decorated for the upcoming Diwali festival. He sat quietly for more than an hour and then drove back home, thinking all the while. He seemed caught between the boy’s story and the company rules governing such acts. As he parked his car in the basement, he called up the COO and the Head of HR for an appointment next morning at 9am sharp.

Next morning, he was sitting before the top bosses in the corporate office. On one side was Head, HR and on the other was Sharad seeking a bail for Amitav. The COO sat quietly listening to the heated and, at times, emotional conversation.

“While I admit the employee has made a mistake and a very grave one but, having seen him work so hard in the last six months, something makes me want to give him a chance and a lifeline.”

“You are making a big mistake. What if he were to fabricate any insurance document or underwriting paper, do you realize the financial implication it would have on the company? The company’s reputation would also be at stake. Sorry, on issues of integrity there can be no compromise. Amitav must go!”

“Sir, I do not know about you but I can speak for myself. Had my father at home, my teachers at school and seniors at work place not given me many a second chance, an opportunity to correct myself and improve, I would not have been where I am today. I would have been an utter failure forgotten in time. Today, if we take the severest of disciplinary action by terminating Amitav from service, he will never get any job after this is recorded in his service books. He will be completely shattered and his family ruined.”

“He should have thought of it when he committed such a fraud. We cannot have such people in our company. What message will it give to the rest? They will treat this as precedence and we will never be able to take action against any other offender. You may have your sympathies for the boy but this is not your home and he is not your child whom you will forgive and move on. We have rules and regulations which must be abided by all. Sorry Sharad, we cannot accept your request. Amitav must go!”

“The boy is just twenty-five years old. He has his whole life before him. After his confirmation, he booked a small flat for himself at Vashi and was engaged recently. This delay in background check and the subsequent revelation about the letter’s authenticity have led to his getting more involved in life from where he will find it impossible to retrace his steps without a job in hand. Who knows our one action will lead to the person taking the wrong path and doing more heinous crimes for the sake of survival. I have seen him for the last six months and, with my experience of knowing and understanding people, I can say with certainty that this man is not inherently bad. He deserves a second chance.”

“Will you take personal responsibility should he make any such mistake again?”

“Yes I am willing to take any such responsibility for Amitav.”

“You are putting your neck out on dangerous territory Sharad. Don’t do it.”

“No Sir, I feel strongly about youngsters. All of us have made mistakes of different kinds and just because someone was there for us to have our backs that we survived and, possibly, succeeded.”

The COO finally spoke up.

“Sharad, we will give Amitav a reprieve. He can continue his job with us for three more months during which time he must find a new one. His record will remain clean and he can have a clear exit.”

“Thank you Sir, but since you have said that Amitav is now my responsibility, I want you to give him six months after which you can evaluate his performance and take a final call.”

The senior man had a soft corner for Sharad and agreed. What was discussed that morning remained within the four walls of the meeting room and a handwritten note was kept in both Amitav’s and Sharad’s files with HR.

In the next six months, Amitav won many laurels and was like a super sales manager. The company decided to retain him and he moved up the ladder. He never forgot his benefactor. Whether it was his wedding or griha pravesh at his new flat or the birth of his child, Sharad was always invited and given a place next to his father.

Sharad was happy getting Amitav’s call today. He had seen many a colleague move ahead of him in officialdom. He often wondered if being successful at work and being a good man were an oxymoron. When Sharad completed twenty years in the company, one senior colleague remarked with a hint of sarcasm, “He is like the grandfather of this office whose grandchildren can do no wrong.”

SS

 

Romancing the Grass

(This is a repeat blog of 2016 with a changed ending to pay my tribute to Diego Maradona)

It was the summer of '86 and the romance of two men, both a shade over five feet with their names starting with the same initial, half the world separating them, caught my fancy. To be precise, it was 29th June 1986.

Mexico City: It was the World Cup Finals and Argentina was playing Germany. One man was making the tournament his own- Diego Maradona. No one can ever forget the two goals he scored to knock England out of the tournament. The first goal was the ‘Hand of God’ where this short magician out jumped the England keeper Peter Shilton and headed the ball into the back of the net. The television replays showed Maradona had cleverly used his hand rather than his head to score. The next goal, however, which no one can dispute, would rank absolutely among the top Goals of the Century. Picking a ball in his own half, Diego dribbled past five English players before out maneuvering the keeper to score.

New Delhi: It was the MA (Previous) Finals next morning on 30^th June. Seven of the eight papers had got over and, as luck would have it, the last of the exams on American History fell on such a date. Surely the examiners and the illuminati at Delhi University could not see beyond books and cricket.  All the preparations were ready for the Big Night…the Boys Common room was packed. Lines had been drawn between those supporting the European powerhouse Germany and the eternal favorites, after Brazil, the Argentines. No matter which side you were on, all knew this was a one man show…Diego Maradona. My friend M, who was no soccer buff but not one to miss the fun, had his early dinner and was there among the crowd who had gathered there that night.

Mexico City: This tournament, apart from Maradona’s marvel, was the Mexican Wave where the crowds in the stadium would stand and wave their hands in air in batches and would appear like the waves in the sea. This got popularized world over after this tournament. The final was being held at Stadia Azteca where Jose Luis Brown opened the scoring for Argentina in the 23rd minute and it stayed at 1–0 until half-time. It was Argentine brilliance to German resilience and Diego, the danger man, was marked heavily.

New Delhi: The lemon break for the player meant the bio-break for the hostellers as they jostled together and stood in queues to wait for their turn. Most of them were good boys, what else do you expect from the Stephanians. My friend M walked out for some fresh air and went beyond the walls of the college. For those who have seen Delhi University, there is no place greener than this. M landed himself walking near the ridge. It was nearly 2 am and little white flowers had filled the shrubs and many of them were falling to the ground. The match in the other part of the globe would have started and Maradona was scorching the green grass, M was picking tenderly little white flowers from the grass. He soon pulled out his handkerchief and started collecting more and more of the flowers…surely his mind was working on the next step, exactly the way Maradona’s was as to how to break out of the tight man-to-man marking Germans, who had planned to pin him down.

Mexico City: After the break, Jorge Valdano doubled Argentina's lead 10 minutes into the second half. Karl Heinz Rummenigge pulled a goal back in the 74th minute for West Germany and then equalized in the 80th minute through Rudi Voller. You just can’t keep the Germans down. Diego Maradona was heavily marked the entire game but managed a superb pass to Jorge Burruchaga in the 84th minute who went on to score and that allowed Argentina to regain the lead at 3–2. That is how it remained till the 90^th minute and the world erupted in celebrations of blue and white.

New Delhi: M had by now collected flowers everywhere…handkerchief, shirt and trouser pockets and hands and, as he entered the  hostel gate, he saw a lot of his mates coming out shouting and celebrating in their own way. M’s heart was pounding and was full of joy. He sneaked into his room and shut the door. As he poured the flowers on to his bed, Maradona was lifting the World Cup…the joys for both men were quite alike. The only difference was that while in Mexico the work was done and dusted, at Delhi the game had just begun. From his cupboard, he brought out the emergency box and out came the needle and thread. Slowly first and then picking up pace, M weaved a big garland out of the flowers. He held the garland admiringly in his outstretched hands and then brought it close to his nose to smell the fragrance…..smmmmm ahhhhh…simply divine! As he closed his eyes enjoying the moment, he was visualizing the Beautiful One in his heart.

As Maradona started his victory lap at Azteca Stadium, M started his journey to Pandara Road where the Beautiful One lived. Dot at 6 am, M reached her house, which was at the heart of Delhi, where the top civil servants stayed. M never knew the meaning of the word fear and pressed the bell..zzzzzzz. As they say fortune smiles on the brave, not the father or mother but it was the Beautiful One, hoping to see the newspaper boy dropping the paper early morning, who opened the door. And what she saw was M standing there, smiling. He put his hand forward and put the flowery garland in her hands. The girl smiled and took the garland to enjoy the soft beautiful fragrance. M turned around as he heard her say, “Thank You”.

30^th June 1986: M along with all other DU students gathered in the large halls to appear for the American History Examination. All looked weary, tired and red eyed…after all none of them had slept for over an hour or two after the match and the celebrations that followed. More importantly, like all students, they studied generally on the night before the exam but this time it was different for last night they had a much more important thing to do. As they settled down on the benches, the examination question paper was distributed. Suddenly, there was uproar in the hall. Someone shouted, “Yeh question paper out of syllabus hain….Walk Out!” Possibly, this was what all wanted to hear and everyone, even before reading the question paper, started shouting…Walk Out…Walk Out!! The news spread like wildfire, even without Whatsapp in those days, and students in the South Campus of DU also walked out and did not give the exam. The Mexican Wave had caught on far too quickly in the backyards of Delhi University.

Pacchees Saal Baad: M continues his love affair with nature, enjoying the earth in all its beauty….moving around on his bicycle from Kanyakumari to Khardungla, from Sonpur Mela to the Ghats of Varanasi. If ever you hear someone singing an old Bhojpuri folk song on a DTC bus, it may be M sitting somewhere. Maradona, on the other hand, achieved many a trophy in the national colours and took his club Napoli from obscurity to global fame. In 2000, FIFA declared Maradona along with Pele as the Greatest Footballers of the Twentieth Century. Unfortunately, the fame on the field led to a reckless life off it. The halo of the football field had given way to the grass smoke rings. And when the fateful day arrived on 25th November ‘20, the world mourned the passing of a true legend who had made the game so beautiful. Zico, another Brazilian great, said of him, “The best of the lot, no doubt about it. I saw Maradona do things that God himself would doubt were possible.” And so when he finally met the Creator himself up there, God would have told him, “It was your hand that touched and scored the goal but you were my chosen one on that day.”

And when King M meets Queen M up there, surely they would rock the universe singing….

 

We are the Champions, my friends

And we’ll keep fighting till the end

We are the Champions

We are the Champions

No time for losers

‘Cause we are the Champions

Of the World

Ciao Diego! There will never be another you.

SS

Ek Doctor ki Maut

Trrring…. Trrring.

Oh God…it is 3.00am and the intercom is ringing at this unearthly hour.

Hello, security, who’s there now and bloody well don’t you tell me it is a false ring or I shall kill you tonight.

Nahin sahib, some delivery person has come. The slip in his hand shows your name and address.

Ok, then you let him come up. I never ordered anything. Maybe my mother would have sent something again.

Ting… Tong

As our man opens the door, he sees before him a man in a perfect black track suit and matching sneakers. He had a tab in his hand and on his shoulder was a bag….a huge bag.

What’s for delivery?

This is not for delivery Sir. This is a reverse delivery call or, simply put, a return call.

But I have not bought anything online and have nothing to return.

No Sir, I am here to take you back.

Back to the hospital from where I just returned after thirty six non-stop hours doing surgeries? Na…I am not going anywhere.

Sir, if you don’t mind, I would like to come inside and explain to you in detail.

Ok, come in.

The delivery man walked in and went towards what looked like a sofa set but seemed covered with journals and hardly any place to sit, but he somehow managed to shift some dusty papers and sat down. The table in front was full of free samples…all dusty and in original packing. He opened up the tab, pressed some keys and spoke reading from the screen.

Is your name Dr. Ashutosh Mane and your date of birth 29^th February 1988?

Yes, that’s correct.

Now look here straight on the screen and it will do a facial recognition.

The matching was perfect.

So here you are, tonight is the date of your expiry and I have come to take you back.

Whaaat! How can that be possible? Why should I believe you and this silly tab of yours?

Sir, let me explain. We used to earlier keep manual tab of everything up there and it worked reasonably fine with some problems here and there and no one complained except someone called Savitri who was able to save her husband from taking his last journey. About nine years ago we decided to automate the whole set of records and a guy called Steve, who did odd jobs  on earth like growing apples, helped us create this wonderful application called YamyApp. Hope you know who Yam is? This never makes a mistake and some of us, the pick-up people, are sent the schedules and details of pick-up and then we do the rest.

The doctor felt the earth slipping from underneath his feet and he almost collapsed on the chair next to him. How can this be true?

Why me? I am just a thirty-two year old pediatric cardiac surgeon who has just started working in Safdarjung Hospital after twelve long years of studies. Why me? I have so much to see, so much more to do.

Unfortunately, I do not have any discretion about changing dates. I would suggest you go back to your bed and sleep and leave the rest to me. I shall make it as less painful as can be.

Wait! You cannot do this to me. I need some time for sure. Give me three extra days please.

Why three days?

Tomorrow I have three surgeries lined up. If I fail to turn up, the kids will not survive. I am sure you can check your YamyApp for the names of three kids whether they are in your list for tomorrow. Here are their names…….

The doctor gave the details of the kids by checking his hospital’s official SafHapp on the mobile.

Hmmm…no, these names are not there for tomorrow’s pick-up. Are you sure if you do not go, there will not be another doctor to do these surgeries tomorrow?

I am very sure because the other surgeon is down with Covid-19 and is in quarantine and will return in a couple of days. Each of these kids is in a critical state and any delay will be fatal. Tomorrow’s surgeries just cannot wait.

Ok then. I can give you one day and shall return tomorrow night. Do not give me any excuses then. I am a busy man and my incentives are based on the number of pick-ups I can do in a month. It is just like any salesman’s work…pick-up and drop, pick-up and drop…the more the merrier.

Sir, I will need two more days.

Anyway why do you think I will give you another two days? Don’t tell me you have some more surgeries lined up in the next two days as well. You told me a minute ago that the other surgeon will be back. So, then there will be no more extra time on earth for you. One day is all I can allow and no more.

You have to ask your Big Boss for two extra days for me and I will tell you why.

It is not for me to ask why, all I do is to pick up those who die….No, please do not put me in a fix. My Boss is a very strict disciplinarian and expects us not to get emotional. That can be fatal for our work, just like a doctor who should never fall in love with his patient…..I still remember the movie Munna Bhai MBBS where the Dean of Medical College and Hospital tells the new medical students that his hands always stay stable and never waver. There can be no emotional attachment to patients…same is with our job. Our tag line is-Swoop Pick and Go.

Sir, I completed my schooling in 2008. Since then I spent five and a half years studying MBBS, followed by one year of rural posting to serve my bond. Then I did my specialization in surgery for next three years and after that another three years in super specialization. When all my school mates were enjoying themselves in colleges and started earning big salaries, I was working non-stop for days together in a government hospital without any holidays. When my friends were having rave parties and hanging around with girls having fun, photographs of which they would later post on FB, I was collecting blood samples or changing catheters or doing night shifts in the Emergency. There have been nights when I never got a wink’s sleep and at times when the body could hold no more, I would just collapse and fall into a bed from which a patient had just been shifted out. In all these twelve years, I have not had a holiday, never experienced life. I need the next two days from you.

Oh, so now you want me to organize a party for you like Sanju Baba and a pretty chick in red skimpy clothes singing for you…Dekh ley…aankhon mein aakhen daal…dekh le…You are asking for too much Doctor.

Please do not make light of my pain. I need two more days of living. On the first day, I will fly for a one day-night trip to Paris. All my life I have wanted to see the city of Louvre, Moulin Rouge and Eiffel Tower. My passport is unstamped till date and you will have to help me not only get the visa stamped overnight but also get me the business class tickets. You have earned enough incentives and surely you can ask the maker of the YamyApp for some stock options and you will never be short on funds. Oh, how I long for that walk down the river front and see myself face to face with Mona Lisa.

On the second and last day, I want to go back to my parent’s house in Nagpur where I shall call all my friends from school and college for a night bash. There will be great food and unlimited drinks. I will even get the best of grass and smoke it and feel high….I have never done it so far…I am sure it must truly feel out of this world before bowing out of this world. My friends will all come and surely it will be a great night for all of us and by the time all my friends leave the party, you can come around 3.00am and I will happily jump into your backpack without complaining. Just Swoop Pick and Go!

Just then the doctor played a song on his mobile he had got a night before as a forward…

Saari umar hum, mar maar ke ji liye,

Ek pal toh ab humein jeene do, jeene do.

Give me some sunshine, give me some rain

Give me another chance, I wanna grow up once again.

The delivery man got up and walked towards Dr. Mane who stood up. The man from outer space hugged the doctor and said, “All my life I have never missed a pick-up but today I will take on the wrath of my Boss. You definitely need to live. You are needed here.”

The delivery man opened his YamyApp one last time and against Dr. Ashutosh Mane put a remark, Item Expired 1^st July 2008…..the day he joined MBBS course.

SS

(Picture source: The Guardian)

Billu

Every Sunday morning, for the last few months, I would see him stand there next to his shop. He would always give me a knowing and a welcoming smile. Since the time lockdown had been enforced, his shop had its shutter down and a big lock hanging outside. My hair kept growing by the day and a couple of attempts by my wife to level the grass sprouting from behind the ears, growing wildly from behind and flying everywhere as the wind blew on a shampoo day, met with little success. My lady loves her Amazon escapades and told me about the numerous trimmers available online including the one being used by Indian Cricket Team Captain Virat Kohli. But I brushed aside her requests saying, “I shall not buy anything that will put my man, who has served me so well for over fifteen years, out of work. He is there waiting for the day when things will normalize and his shop will re-open and I am also waiting for the day when I shall sit on the high chair like a monarch wrapped in a cover with SRK printed on it, looking at myself in the huge mirror in front while my hair was getting clipped neatly.”

One day Billu took the courage to say,” Sir, please get a piece of cloth from home. We can enter the shop from the rear entrance and I shall cut your hair. A lot of people are doing it and there is nothing to worry.” I smiled back at him and wondered at the Indian jugaad at practice in my backyard. The good Citizen Kane in me said, “No, not now. We have waited long enough and I am sure things will get better soon and then when officially your shop opens, I shall surely come. Till then I shall keep growing my hair.” But before leaving, I put a Rs 500 currency note in his hand and told him this would be my advance payment for the first hair cut soon. Billu smiled and put the money in his front shirt pocket.

Another couple of months passed and the government officially allowed barber shops to be opened. I was looking forward to the day for now I had started looking like Edgar Rice Burroughs’ hero swinging from the vines in the jungles of Africa crying out aloud…Kreeegah Tarzan Bundolo…I was told that personal hygiene was the most important thing in times of the pandemic so I should consider going to a Cutz and Curlz or Mr.Khan’s exquisite salon where the people styling your hair would be in PPE kits and you may be rinsed in sanitizers and disinfectants. “No! No means No.” Just the way Bachchan said in Pink. I shall go to my old faithful Anupam Hair Dressar” Yes, the spelling on the shop’s board outside is phonetically correct and I quite like it. So armed with an old bed sheet under my armpit, a mask on my face and a pair of gloves covering my hands, off I went to the Billu’s small simple shop on SV Road.

As I opened the door, Billu asked me to wait as one customer was being attended to. After hanging out for some time, I was ushered in. “Saab, pehle naashta kar loon? (Sir, shall I eat my breakfast first?), he asked. “Yes, of course.” I sat down in one corner as Billu took out a small packet of ParleG biscuits and ate them one by one with a small glass of water by his side. Wondered if this is all our man has for breakfast? He then washed his hands well, put on a fresh pair of gloves and asked me to take to the elevated throne. Billu took out his tools…scissors, trimmer, combs and blade on which he sprayed a round of sanitizer and got to work. He wrapped my bed sheet around me well, positioned my head straight and sprayed my head with a sprinkle of water from a small sprayer… this first portion of hair cut was always enjoyable to me….the cool water possibly calmed the nerves of the person waiting for the head to be chopped off on the guillotine table.

I started flipping through a year old edition of Filmfare and Billu got busy with his work. His hands started working like a skilled craftsman  and while working on my head he started talking…”Yeh Kaliyug hai Saab. This is the effect of the Kaliyug or the Age of Kali or the age of discord, dissent, strife and all things bad. Whatever is happening to this world is all because of this people’s greed and materialism and all things evil.”

I looked at him with surprise. This was a new theory to me about the rise and spread of Covid.

Billu continued to explain. “Sir, just see the elders would tell us about the Kaliyug and asked us to beware of such times. They said, adharma will prevail, people will be fighting against each other, sin will increase exponentially, people will be addicted to drugs and drinks, people will act as if they are gods, fake ideologies would spread and many diseases will take control.”

Hmmm….there was no doubt much truth in Billu’s theory.

As Billu moved from cutting the hair at the back of my head to the front, he went on talking. “Saab ek kahani sunata hoon (Sir, I will tell you a story). There were ten people walking through a dense forest. Suddenly the weather became bad and there was lightning flashing dangerously close to the people. The folks got together and came to the conclusion that one among them was cursed and because of him they were all suffering. To find out who this person was, they would ask each one of them to stand next to a tree and if the lightning were to strike on the person there, he alone would perish and others would survive. One by one nine of them stood but the lightning fell elsewhere and they were all relieved. The tenth man was mortified and reluctantly went up and stood next to the tree waiting for the lightning to strike which did so with loud noise and illumination nearby. The tenth man near the tree survived but the other nine standing at a distance waiting to see his fate all perished as the lightning had fallen on them instead.”

“This is truly Kaliyug Saab and cleansing of the sullied and villainous earth is happening now. Only a few good people will survive. Maybe, just one in ten.”

By now Billu had done with my hair and was giving me a quick complimentary Champi or a head massage. He knew I enjoyed this part of my monthly sittings and often I would ask him to give me an oil massage, but it was not to be this day. My man had got me into thinking beyond the search for vaccine and economic recession. What Billu said made sense even though difficult to prove scientifically but science anyway seemed to have failed for now in bringing down the growth of this cursed illness. To divert my attention, I asked him about his family and how he had made it through the tough times.

“Sir, in the initial few months, it was manageable with the little savings I had done but as the lockdown went on, it became more and more difficult. But thanks to a few old time customers who gave me ration and some money, I could survive.  Now things are getting better but even on weekends we get half the customers we used to before the pandemic. Seems many people have taken to doing it themselves, some have taken to the Urban Clap way of home service and the more affluent have moved to the stylish expensive salons. My wife does not have any work now and my daughter of eight years is off her school and books all this time. Praying and hoping for things to get better.”

Billu’s usual hair cutting charges were hundred rupees to which I usually added another twenty for his good services. So today before leaving home, I carried a hundred and three tenners in my pocket for him apart from a couple of five hundred rupee note for the next door grocery shop where I needed to pick up some other things. After hearing the man’s story, I dipped into my pocket and pulled out everything there and put it in Billu’s outstretched palm….”Happy Diwali….Beti aur biwi ko mithai khila dena”….and walked out without waiting to see his reaction.

Kaliyug must end and we can all play a part in its demise with very tiny deeds of kindness and love.

SS

Singing Words of Wisdom

 

When I find myself in times of trouble, 

Mother Mary comes to me 

Speaking words of wisdom , let it be

And in my hour of darkness,

She is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom , let it be

Paul McCartney wrote these immortal lines in the sixties in praise for his mother whose name happened to be Mary. He sought answer in his mother’s gospel truth of ‘let it be’ when things were not going right for him and his band. You and I are no different from Paul and have had our share of times of trouble. 

These are times when you wake up in the middle of the night and watch the ceiling fan go round and round and then a streak of moonlight touches the blades giving it a look of Jedi’s Lightsaber in Star Wars; these are times when you are thinking about a million things as the Mumbai local passes swiftly by from one station to another and you miss getting off at the destination; these are times when some quintessential questions of fear, failure, fatigue, futility and frustration creep into your mind.

 Question of Wonder: What is the mystery of life? Why are we chasing dreams?

Question of Failure: Should I give up and end the misery or get up and fight?

Question of Shame: What will people say? How will I face them?

Question of Life: How should I live life? Be concerned about everything or take it as it comes?

Question of Supernatural Help: Believer or not, it doesn’t matter. Need help? Go to Him.

These are the times when a line or two of a song from the past makes a comeback….touches the right chords in your mind and heart….you sing it silently to yourself……and you get a feeling of being uplifted as the words resonate with your inner feelings and give you the answers you seek..…these are the words of wisdom that bring a smile back to the face.

Here’s my selection of such songs in ‘times of trouble’ and ‘hour of darkness’. I am unable to give credit for these inspirational songs to the lyricist alone, for no doubt words matter, but had the music director not set the right tone or the singer sung with the rightful emotion and then the directors of the movies picturized them.….all put together made magic happen on the screen through these songs.

The first song is from the movie Anand, lyrics by Yogesh, music by Salil Choudhury and sung by Manna Dey, and one that will surely be there in the list for almost all the readers. It tells me about the uncertainty of life which has its fair share of laughter and tears. All our lives we chase dreams and then all of a sudden everything draws to a close and you realize the futility of it all. Man proposes, God disposes…all the best laid plans simply go awry in a flash and life changes forever.

Zindagi, kaisi hai paheli haye

Kabhi toh hansaye, kabhi ye rulaaye

Kabhi dekho man nahin jaage

Peeche peeche sapnon ke bhaage

Ik din sapnon ka raahi

Chala jaye sapnon se aagey kahan

The second song is one which tells me to never give up and keep following you dreams. There will be obstacles in your way, failures will pull you back but as long as you keep trying, nothing can stop you. Songs like these inspire you to wake up early and make you wear your running shoes and hit the road again to run faster and longer. This song, called the Test of Life, is from the movie Imtihan, sung by Kishore Kumar, Music by Laxmikant Pyarelal and lyrics by Majrooh Sultanpuri

Ruk jaana nahin, tu kabhi haar ke

Kaaton pe chalke, Milenge saaye bahaar ke

Saathi na karvan hai, yeh tera imtihaanhai

Yoon hi chala chal, Dil ke sahare

Karti hai manzil, Tujhko ishare

Dekh kahin koi rok nahin le, Tujhko pukaar ke

O rahi, O rahi

While we may put up a brave front by saying, “I care a damn about what others think” but deep inside we do worry how others will perceive our actions, interpret our words and we keep constantly seek the approval of people.  How often such thoughts prevent us from following our hearts and a million dreams must have been crushed beneath the stamping feet of a world suspicious and hateful of your success. No song can be better than the one sung by Kishore in the movie Amar Prem with lyrics by Anand Bakshi and music of Pancham da.

Kuchh toh log kahengey,

Longon ka kaam hai kehna

Chodo bekaar ki  baton mein,

Kahin beet na jaaye raina.

There is one line in the song which to me is the most powerful of all…telling me that even the most honest and pious of all souls was put to shame and had had to pass the test by fire to prove her innocence. Would it not feel good if you could show your middle finger to the nay sayers; and those who made fun of you.

 Tu kawn hai, tera naam hai kya,

Sita bhi yahan badnaam huyi

This fourth song is a perpetual common favourite of my better half as well. We have both used the lines many a times as life’s perfect philosophy on WhatsApp status. This is what I would call the cool, cool song and the best way to accept life in all its glory and failures. Accepting life and not constantly fighting to change it is possibly the way to live. The picturization is also one of the best…a fauji Dev Anand smoking a cigarette and singing the immortal lines penned by none other than Sahir Ludhiyanvi, with the music of Jaidev and the soft lilting voice of Rafi Saab takes this song to a cult status.

Main zindagi ka saath nibhata chala gaya

Har fikr ko dhuyein mein udata chala gaya

While every word, every verse of the song is worth repeating over and over again but I shall share two more lines that make this song so special. We all have to face tragedies and failures but the way to treat such situations is to accept both the good and the bad similarly and move on. So don’t worry, be happy.

Gham aur khushi mein fark na mehsoos ho jahan

Main dilko us makaam pe laata chala gaya

Har fikr ko dhuyein mein udata chala gaya

Finally, in all this anxiety and tough times, don’t you wish you got control of yourself and don’t end up doing something foolish for which you regret later. You often seek the blessings of the Good Lord to calm your nerves and help to stay on the right path. And one such song is from the movie Guddi, lyrics penned by Gulzar, music by Vasant Desai and sung beautifully by Vani Jairam as if the Supreme Being cannot but help listening to your prayers.

Humko man ki shakti dena, man vijay karein

Doosron ki jai se pehle, khud ko jai kareein

The key lines which brings out the essence of the song which says that you need to win over yourselves before seeking victory over others.

Bhed bhaav apne dil se saaf kar sakein

Doston se bhool ho toh maaf kar sakein

Jhooth se bache rahein, sach ka dum bharein

Mushkilein padein toh hum par itna karm kar

Saath dein dharm ka, chalein to dharm par

Khud pe hausla pe rahe, badi se na darein

Last Word: Paul isn’t alone in seeking his mother in hour of darkness. We all crave for our mothers, their love, their care and everything good, long after they are gone. Mothers will always be there for you. They are the only ones who never judge you despite disciplining you all their lives. Here’s my Mother Mary song.…

Tu jahan jahaan chalega, Mera saya saath hoga

Kabhi mujhko yaad karke, Jo bahengey tere aansu,

Toh vahin pe rok lengey, Unhe aake mere aansu,

Tu agar udaas hog toh, Udaas hoongi mai  bhi,

Nazar aaun ya na aaaun, Tere paas hoongi mai bhi.

I am sure you too have your uplifting music playlist where you seek your words of wisdom in times of trouble. Would love to know how many songs of my list, also find a place in yours.

SS

Dugga Dugga

(Painting by Rani Bajaj)

                                                 

“Jis Kolkata Puja nai vekhya, O Janmayi  Nai” (He who has not seen Puja at Kolkata, hasn't lived)                          

Pujo in Kolkata is an exhibition of art of a brilliant kind which no one can explain and describe; it has to be seen to be believed. And this year it was expected that the scenes of the pandemic would dominate the artists’ minds. Today’s newspaper showed one such picture of Durga as a migrant mother…it is so touching and true to life.  My heart wails for the desperate mother depicted and I bow my head to the creator, Pallab Bhaumik.

This image got me thinking. I did not experience the pain of the migrant who had to walk a thousand miles to reach home in a faraway land, but I have had my own miles to walk in these times. So if I were the artist at Kumartuli who made those beautiful and creative clay idols , how would I make my protima of Durga….the Goddess with ten arms that she uses to protect her devotees from all corners of the earth and beyond. If Durga is the confluence of the powers of gods and goddesses to fight the demon and save the world, my Durga will do the same for me and my world.

The mobile symbolizes the dominant sound in today’s universe. The notes of the caller tunes and WhatsApp messages coming right through the day from the magic box of Jobs & Cook are no less than the Conch Shell in the Devi’s hand.  The day this sound stops, will be the day the heart stops beating and life will be lifeless.

The multiple wires around me represent energy just like the Bow and Arrow in Durga’s hand. Think of the power cord of your computer, the charging wires of the mobile and iPad. A world without these sources of plugging in energy into your devices would mean not only darkness at noon but complete eclipse.

The laptop is today’s Sudarshan Chakra which was given by Lord Vishnu to Durga and to me by Michael Dell. This is the centre of creation and existence and our lives revolve around this one piece of machine which has become our new world, from playground to entertainment and non-stop office work.

WhatsApp is the Lotus in Ma’s hand. This symbolizes all our wisdom. It is said to be liberating us through knowledge. It is so true that this one App is the source of all our knowledge from science to drugs to jokes to philosophy and not to forget the endless good morning messages that tell you over and over again how to find peace, how to be successful, how to avoid stress….ufff ….. this is the real lotus blooming in the country. My usage is so high that the WhatsApp University plans to accord an honourary PhD to me soon for all the forwards that I keep doing round the clock.

My iPad is my Trident that the Mother Goddess possesses. Like the trident which has three sharp edges, my iPad gives me the triple advantage of checking my official mails, doing all my web calls and also intermittently doing my FB, Linkedin and Gmails which my Sudarshana Chakra does not allow due to official security and decorum.

The Mace in Ma Durga’s hand symbolizes loyalty, love and devotion. To me it represents the broom, the brush and the mop that I too have to partake to show my devotion, love and loyalty to my Durga at home. The day you miss doing the chores, this Devi or should I say Debi will make sure thou shalt repent it for ages.

The home Wi-Fi is the real Vajra or Thunderbolt given by Indra that the Mahisasur Mardini has. I remember when the MTNL Wi-Fi suddenly switched off and there was no Pande-ji or Yadav-ji, who are now off on VRS, to attend to the complaint. It seemed that work from home would come to a standstill and I would have to get a special e-pass to go to office to work.  Then I found a new Vajra and now things are normal as long as the connectivity is there and the speed is fine or else ghoomtey reh jaogey…buffering!

 Club or Axe is the most dangerous of all weapons the Goddess possesses. I will make this as the review schedule that each boss gives to his underlings. This is very terrifying and it takes days and nights to complete the review presentation and the boss asks questions that are out of the syllabus and with the club he either has the power to pound you in the presence of all or the ultimate power to Axe….death by guillotine…how cruel!

Why does Durga carry the snake? Spiritual texts say that it symbolizes consciousness and masculine energy of Shiva. The snakes for me today are the multitude of digital meeting applications that have enslaved us. I have for instance almost all the snakes like Zoom, WebEx, Google Meet, Microsoft Teams, Google Duo…you never know who asks you to connect through which snake and you wriggle and join the call with the standard lingo…Am I audible…can you see my screen…?

Finally the Sword in Ma’s hand. The sword represents the sharpness of intellect …this should be there in all including me. So I shall let her carry this one piece of weaponry not just for the power of the mind and intellect but I need her to use it to kill the devil Mahisasur.

On a serious note…Who is the demon my Durga has to kill?

I think it is in me, the devil in the hiding…

The devil that makes me angry,

The devil that makes me weak,

The devil that makes me pessimistic,

The devil that makes me jealous,

The devil that makes me procrastinate,

The devil that makes my ego bloat ,

The devil that stops me from enjoying life beyond work,

The devil that stops me from smiling, laughing and crying.

I am the devil, the devil is in me!

Ya Devi Sarva-Bhuteshu Vishnumaayeti Shabditaa

Namas-tasyai Namas-tasyai Namas-Tasyai NamoNamah!!

To the Devi Who in all Beings is called Vishnumaya,

Salutations to Her, Salutations to Her, Salutations to Her, Salutations again and again.

Oh how I shall miss the beating of the dhak, the smell of dhunuchi smoke, the flowers at pushpanjali, the rolls and chops at the stalls, the wearing of fine clothes and the darshan of Ma at the evening aarti. I shall stay put at home this time.

(Painting by Bikash Bhattacharya)

                                                       

SS

The Aviator

 Odi Baba, koto unchu…bhoi korche!

That was Chulbul talking to herself in Bangla as she looked down from the 17^th floor overlooking SV Road. Translated literally, it would read, “O My God, this is so high…I am afraid!” You must be wondering how a pigeon could speak Bangla. So then let me take you back into time, not so long ago. Chulbul was born at the Sen’s Ledge Maternity Clinic under the able care and supervision of Dr. (Mrs) Sen whom Chulbul now referred to as Aunty. Having taken all care and protection of the single egg that survived, Chulbul was now almost a month old. Having shed the hairy look, she now looked a pretty damsel (initially thought to be of the opposite gender) with feathers and a beautiful shining coat of fluorescent green and pink around her neck. When Momma Pigeon would fly away in search of food early morning, Aunty would keep walking to the window to see how the little birdie was doing on an almost hourly basis, if not more. She was ably assisted by her compounder hubby. Since they would talk to each other in Bangla, it was but natural that Chulbul learnt the language of the Bhadraloks before her Birdie tongue.

After the scary sight, Chulbul retreated to the safe confines of her well- guarded maternity home. Here the Aunty had kept flower pots to create a fort like structure with only a small passage way that allowed Chulbul to walk in and out to see the blue sky above. The birdie was pretty non-enterprising or should I say non-adventurous. Usually, she would stay put in the small enclosure, hardly moving, just a little here and there. Even though her wings seemed to have grown fully, she would hardly open them. Just walked a few steps to the right, a few steps to the left, some in front and then back to same spot.

The Sens of the Clinic were wondering why Momma pigeon, who usually returned in the afternoon once, did not come that day. It was almost sun set and they were worried whether Chulbul had been abandoned by the mother and now they would have to take full care and custody of the little one. As they wondered how they would manage to bring up another kid after so many years of bringing up their own kid…Momma Birdie finally returned with food held between her beaks. Suddenly the corner became bright and noisy as the little birdie, who had also lost all hope, got excited on seeing her mother. The two snuggled up to each other and the kid started her non-stop chatter but surely this time in her mother tongue.

“Mommy, where were you for so long? Why did you not come to me earlier? I was so afraid and feeling lonely. I thought you had left me and gone forever.”

“No Chulbul, how can I ever think of leaving you. I had gone in search of food and I was not able to get the soft twigs and grass that you love to chew anywhere close. I had to fly far and so it took so long. My Baby, I am so sorry. But tell me what were you afraid of? With the good Aunty around, you have surely nothing to worry.”

“I know the Aunty is good. She even tried giving me food and water. But I did not eat one morsel; I did not sip the water either. She is often missing for some time, maybe she has some other work. But during those times, she asks a funny man in shorts to come and see me. He is more interested in taking pictures of me than anything else. He hides behind the curtains and tries to take my pictures from many angles. He thinks he is smart and is fooling me….Ha Ha…Funny Man.”

“So what were you afraid of?”

“Mommy, when you are gone, there is a bad bird who comes. He is big and strong and he comes and pushes me around. I try to go into a corner or behind a flower pot but he follows me there. He keeps poking me with his beak. I start making noise…help…Help…help! And Aunty rushes to the window and shoos away the bad bird.”

“O no! That must be Prem Chops…he is a bad bird and he is always up to something with young chicks. Now that he knows you are here alone, he will keep coming and his intentions are not good. I wish I could stay here and protect you round the clock but I must fly out at dawn in search of food. I will come quickly from tomorrow but you better start making your cry for help even louder. Aunty and the Funny Man will surely come to your rescue. I just pray nothing bad ever happens to you. I will ask your cousins Sonu-Monu to come and play with you. They will give you company. They are a month older than you and they are a fine pair. I am sure you will be happy and safe in their company.”

It was pitch dark and having had their conversation, the Momma asked, “It is late baby, why don’t you sleep?

“Tell me a story and I will go to sleep after that. Night time is fairy tale time.”

“Ok. Today I will tell you a story about a brave bird and I want you to become, the bravest pigeon ever so that next time someone comes to trouble you, you will teach him a lesson of his life. …Long time ago a ten headed monster was driving away a pretty woman in his chariot up in the clouds when Jatayu swooped down and attacked with all its power. The monster was a supreme fighter and had defeated the bravest of men of his time and the bird Jatayu was no match for him as apart from its huge wings and claws, it had nothing to fight with. The monster had bow and arrow, spears, sword, mace and many a weapon to fight but the bird fought valiantly and was finally beaten after a long fight. Jatayu fell to the ground….” By now Chulbul was fast asleep dreaming of becoming the Super Bird fighting all evil forces, rescuing birds from disaster and saving Mommy from the Big Bad Birds of prey.

Next morning by the time Chulbul woke up, Momma pigeon had flown to bring food and she was admiring the sunrise. After a while two pigeons came. These seemed friendly. They were her cousins Sonu and Monu. The Sens realized that Chulbul was in company of friends so they opened up the enclosed space a bit for the three chicks to play around. After the initial round of chirping, something Chulbul was better off than her cousins, the duo asked her to join them in a short flight. Chulbul flatly refused…Na baba na, ami kothaou jaabo na…Ma boleche boshey thaktey (No no no, I am not going anywhere…Mommy has told me to just sit here only). Sonu-Monu told them about the fun of flying, how nice it is to go into the clouds, lovely wind blowing into their faces, go anywhere you wish to, eat anything that you find and see the world going by. But it had no impact on our Chulbul. She said she was not meant to fly but she could dance like Happy Feet…and she showed her cousins her little tap dance. The cousins were not impressed and after a while flew away. Chulbul was alone and in crept the sly Prem. Seeing him, Chulbul started making a loud noise, louder than ever, which brought the Funny Man rushing to the window and drive away the Bad Angry Bird.

Things went on in the same way for another week and despite all efforts of Sonu-Monu and her mother, Chulbul refused to fly. She would walk out of the iron grill and through the flower pots to take a look outside. “Ah, this is nice.” She could see others of her family flying. She even saw other birds of green and black, too, flying with wings spread wide. But the moment she would look down….Odi Baba…koto unchu….ami parbo na (O my, this is so high…I cannot do it!) and pronto she would return to her hiding place.

Momma Bird brought in Pensei, the Pigeon Guru. He was a learned man and a well-respected bird trainer. In the initial few days Pensei took time to get friendly and started talking to Chulbul. Having got the confidence of the shy bird, now the trainer was able to make the bird spread her wings….start fluttering and slowly running in the small space available. He started talking and doing some pep talk…including sharing some quotes from Jonathan Livingston Seagull with some variations, of course!

“You are a bird and your life is all about flying. You are not a plant that you see on the pot here. You will see many places, go to beautiful lands and never be afraid of anything, whereas this plant will always stand here and not know about the world outside. It is just meant to flower once in a while and hope someone gives it water and manure to survive. We are different. We have to fight to survive. We have to find our own food, companions and life. We are free of all on bonds unlike the plants who are stuck to one place. “

“You will have freedom to be yourself, your true self and nothing can stand in your way.”

“Your whole body from wingtip to wingtip is nothing more than your thought itself in a form you can see. Break the chains of your thought and you break the chains of our body, too.”

“The pigeon sees the farthest who flies the highest.”

Such inspiring talks made Chulbul feel like knowing more and seeing more. The Pensei showed her how to open up her wings, how to speed up when approached by a bird of prey, how to swoop down upon food and go from place to place, never to build a nest. Then, one morning at around 6 am, Chulbul was called out by Pensei. Her mother was also around watching her kid come out of her hiding place. Slowly Chulbul, instead of looking face down, turned and put her claws to the building edge….Now Chulbul, just do it my brave girl…you can do it…go for it and jump off. Chulbul suddenly realized that falling off the place would mean instant death, not like the brave Jatayu but an unknown and un-cried for birdie. Alas, it had rained the previous night and the ledge was wet and in spite of trying her best to claw up back to safety, she slipped and opened up her wings and dropped off…

The Funny Man caught the entire first flight of Chulbul just like they do on NatGeo Channel. His next shot was to click the mother and her baby who had fallen or flown from 17^th floor to 16^th floor ledge…there they were…but possibly the fear in the bird had gone away. And after a while Chulbul was gone. Aunty was both happy and sad at the same time. She was happy that the bird had finally flown, she was sad, now that she did not know how she would spend her day after spending almost 5 weeks seeing Chulbul come out of the egg to grow up into a fine young bird. Now her window side was empty. Next morning they washed the place of all the muck on the window ledge. An emotional Aunty said, “I will never allow any more pigeons to hatch their eggs in my flower pots. You fall in love with them as babies….they then grow up and fly away.”

The next evening Chulbul returned to her spot on the Sens window, one last time. They were happy seeing the bird back. Chulbul looked at the couple and possibly wanted to say thank you but kept quiet. After a while, she flew away…never to return. And even if she did return, how could the Sens even recognize the Bird who was once afraid of heights. The Maternity Home is now shut forever.

SS