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 |   As the first blog entry got exhausted. My second book |
| Evolution of Love Part 2 |
| This is an age test. Strongly recommended. Are you still young as far your eyes and memory are concerned!! Try to remove the numbers from 1 to 50 by touching on your screen in the "correct sequence" of 1 → 50 ----------------------- https://keytodatascience.com/games ------------------------ Scoring: 10 -19 secs: Impossible 20-29 secs: Liar 30-39 secs: You are special 40-59 secs: Expert 1:00 -1:19 mints: Normal 1:20-1:39 mints: Getting old More than 1:40 mints. : You are old. *All the best, and don’t shy away to post your score...* |
| "One of my friends asked "Why do you pay so much money for your kids to do all their sports”? Well I have a confession to make; I don't pay for my kids to to do sports. Personally, I couldn't care less about what sport they do. So, if I am not paying for sports what am I paying for? - I pay for those moments when my kids become so tired they want to quit but don't. - I pay for those days when my kids come home from school and are "too tired" to go to their training but they go anyway. - I pay for my kids to learn to be disciplined, focused and dedicated. - I pay for my kids to learn to take care of their body and equipment. - I pay for my kids to learn to work with others and to be good team mates, gracious in defeat and humble in success. - I pay for my kids to learn to deal with disappointment, when they don't get that placing or title they'd hoped for, but still they go back week after week giving it their best shot. - I pay for my kids to learn to make and accomplish goals. - I pay for my kids to respect, not only themselves, but other players, officials and coaches. - I pay for my kids to learn that it takes hours and hours, years and years of hard work and practice to create a champion and that success does not happen overnight. - I pay for my kids to be proud of small achievements, and to work towards long term goals. - I pay for the opportunity my kids have and will have to make life-long friendships, create lifelong memories, to be as proud of their achievements as I am. - I pay so that my kids can be out on the track instead of in front of a screen... ...I could go on but, to be short, I don't pay for sports; I pay for the opportunities that sports provides my kids with to develop attributes that will serve them well throughout their lives and give them the opportunity to bless the lives of others. From what I have seen so far I think it is a great investment!" |
| My brother with a bloodied nose, An officer and a gentleman. Landed across the Line of Control today. Ejecting after doing the best he can. They caught him on their land and then, Thrashed him like perhaps any of us would. Till the army stepped in and dispersed them. And rescued him while they could. They asked him who he was and he said, With poise and utmost grace. A flying pilot of the Indian Air Force. Battered, bruised, but with a proud face. If only the general public could, Muster a milligram of the same poise. And realize that their war drum beating. Is a ridiculous dangerous noise. My brother with a bloodied nose, He stood there firm and tall. And smiled in the face of his captors. And taught us the biggest lesson of them all. That bravery is not ordered online, Does not ship overnight on Amazon Prime. Tis not the moment of jingoism and memes. For armchair aggro tis not the time. My brother with a bloodied nose, Thank you for your dedication and verve. Your class and bravery I fear though, Is a little more than some of us deserve. For those whose fury takes wing today, Who have no idea what it's like. To parachute into enemy territory, Taking a hit in a combat strike. My brother with a bloodied nose, You've taught a lesson to us all. You can bail out of an aircraft at high speed, And yet to lows never fall. And keep your cheer and character in times, Of uncertainty in the face of death. And learn again to behave as human beings, If we only would our conscience let. My brother with a bloodied nose. Keep you chin up, enjoy the brew. A salute to your sacrifice today and forever. Hold on a while, we're coming to get you. My brother With a bloodied nose. The bison who took on the sun. Here's to you and all those that stand guard for us. Nabah Sparsam Diptam. |
| Late that same evening, there was a very special moment for me. I stood behind a trellised window, which looked out over the temples. Mataji stood between them and, for a short while, all the people who had surrounded Her receded far back. My memory shows Her to me standing there all by Herself. I raised my folded hands to bid goodbye to Her. From my prison (behind the latticed window) my greeting went out and upwards to Her freedom. She lifted Her folded hands in response and simultaneously sent a veritable torrent of joy right into the core of my heart. This instant lay outside of time. I felt this with every fiber of my being: here nothing was threatened with transitoriness! Since then in more than one crisis it has become clear to me how much I owe to Mataji. Just like everyone else I see the danger but quite contrary to my attitude in other crises hitherto, I do not feel afraid. Perhaps I have grasped not with my mind but with my whole being that even the cruelest outer destruction does not touch that which we ARE in Reality. There is a Zen Buddhist saying: "When an Enlightened one touches a dry twig, it begins to blossom.........." |
| I returned to my room, had a quick shower and settled down to read, listening to some music that helped soothe my still frayed nerves. The next day, which happened to be April 1, or All Fools Day, I returned my uniform for good and then headed towards the accounts department to collect my dues. Somehow, word had got around about what had happened with me. “When God closes one door, He opens another,” the genial, soft-spoken accounts clerk said as I waited for him to calculate the dues payable to me. I wanted to retort, but something held me back. “That happens in fairy tales Sir, not in real life,” I replied, as politely as possible, not wishing to offend him. Perhaps I should have waited a moment. “Neel,” I heard Yvonne, the tall and attractive secretary of Mr Vikram Singh, the hotel’s General Manager, call out to me. I turned around, halfexpecting that by some miracle, my pride had been restored to me. She walked fast. “This just came in for you.” She handed me a buff-coloured envelope, with the initials O.I.G.S. stamped in blue over it. The postal address of IHM Pusa was stamped at the bottom. I instinctively knew what it was. Suddenly though, I was overcome with superstition. Prologue xxix “Given my luck, you better open this,” I held out the envelope to her. “Open it,” she commanded. It was at the second sentence of the letter that I finally let myself go, overcome with emotion. I gave Yvonne a hug. I still remember those words: “We are pleased to appoint you…” As I turned around to collect the dues, the accounts clerk, who had witnessed everything, smiled and said. “Uskey darbaar mein der hai, andher nahin!” (God may delay granting your wishes, but he will never deny them to you). Words failed me, for probably the first time in my life, as I smiled weakly and nodded. My next stop was the office of Mr S. K. Jain, the Regional Head of Human Resources who reported directly to Mr Ajit Kerkar, the Managing Director, better known by his initials ABK. Mr Jain and I always got along well, since we were both outsiders in the system there. “Neel, I am sorry for what happened. I was away. Now give me a day to undo the damage and reinstate you” he began, as soon as I entered his office. It was true-Mr.Jain had been away for an outstation meeting on the 31st and returned only on the 1st morning. “Thank you Sir, but I don’t think that will be required” I said, and handed him the letter from IHM Pusa and the delight on his face was genuine. “Congratulations, Neel,” he said, proffering his hand, which I gladly accepted. “I do have one request though, Sir,” I began, unsure if he would be willing to help out. “Tell me, anything I can do,” he replied. “When I join Pusa, they will verify my service record here. With this termination record I shall meet the same fate there. How can we tide over this?” “What if you were to resign of your own accord?” he said, sliding a sheet of A4 paper towards me. I was perplexed. Was he suggesting what I thought he was? Was that even kosher? “Mr Singh, could you please come to my office, and bring along Neelakantan’s file?” I heard Mr Jain say on the phone to his immediate subordinate, even as I was trying to make sense of the miracle happening before my eyes. As Singh - the same Mr Singh who had taken delight in handing my dismissal orders a Prologuexxx day before closed the door on his way out. I saw Mr Jain take out the dismissal letter and tear it up. If at all I needed a cue, this was it! I hurriedly wrote down a simple resignation letter, handed it to Mr Jain, who filed it neatly in my file, along with a photocopy of the offer letter from IHM Pusa. He typed out my relieving letter, which I signed. “This calls for some tea and biscuits, don’t you think?” I could only nod at the generosity of this amazing human being. I ran to meet Sabena, clutching the envelope like dear life. Seeing my face, she came out and we headed to our coffee shop. I didn’t have to say anything; I just handed over the envelope. Caring nothing about it, she reached out in the coffee shop to hug me and I relaxed, the adrenalin calming down. I had a fortnight to report at Pusa. We started planning our journey. I wanted to be early to look for accommodation that left a week in Jaipur. She took the day off and we walked to her residence. Her mother was ecstatic. Her younger sister also joined in for a treat. Lunch never tasted better. I sat down on the sofa only to be gently awoken by Sabena offering me tea & snacks. I had drifted off to sleep on the sofa, still seated. It was a long lovely evening as we went sauntering around Jaipur, finishing the day with dinner in style at Nero’s on MI Road. I walked her home, and both of us had mixed feelings. The joy of justice rendered, was now enveloped by thoughts of separation from a dear friend. Sleep took time as I was torn with the career in teaching and of missing on a lovely friend. I left in a week, but we spent time together every day till I left. I noticed that she was not her normal self. I saw her the last time at the Bus Depot from my window seat of the bus before I left. After joining Pusa, I delayed writing to her by a month. I was enveloped by a personal tragedy and was plunging into my new responsibilities. Failing to get a reply, I called her at office. She had told me that her sister had to come to Delhi for an NCC Camp, and I was to receive her and help her. Her reply was cold and brusque. The usually warm Sabena was missing. I agonized as fate had played its cards. It was apparent that she did not want to lose me, as was evident from her speech. The way she would hold my hand during our long walks – that seemed a distant memory. Maybe because I treated her like a lady, unlike her earlier friend, with whom she had broken off. I had noticed two marks on her wrist, inflicted with a cigarette. I was horrified. How could someone do this? Nay, even think, of branding? I was sure in my mind that I had no romantic thoughts of her, and all my interactions were purely platonic. We had agreed to it when we she kept saying, “You better have an arranged marriage.” |
| Her lungs screamed for air, her heart almost burst open. Durga ran nonstop into the jungle holding onto 7 month Babu in a desperate attempt to flee from her tormentors in the village. They stalked her mercilessly every single minute like a hunted prey especially after Ratan (her husbands) death. Lechers and scavengers but powerful men. Durga ran for her life, for Babu, her son, Ratan’s son. The sun started to set. She could run no further. Thirsty and hungry she collapsed on the ground. Her feet, a mangled mass of flesh and blood as the thorns along the jungle trail tore open her flesh. She had used up the last ounce of energy, She needed energy. Babu was hungry she needed to feed him. Durga put Babu down and started looking for something to eat. Maybe fruits…or..berries. She needed to survive, for Babu. Maybe the jungle would take pity on her and give her something to eat. Her feet hurt as rivulets of blood from her mangled leg started to drop on the ground. She had picked up the scent of blood. Blood meant a prey was close, food was nearby. She was starving . She needed to eat for her baby. She had been running the whole day and she was totally exhausted. She left her baby in a small hollow of a tree and set out on the scent of food. In the eerie stillness of the night punctuated by noisy chirping of crickets and occasional croaking of frogs, their eyes met. The hunter…the hunted. Durga glared into the two dark green eyes shinning through the darkness of the forest. She bared her fangs, her baby was in danger. She was going to fight to death, Babu!! thought Durga as she picked up a branch of a tree and trimmed it to a sharp point with her bare teeth. She knew if she lunged properly she would be able to achieve the kill. The forest became deathly quiet as the two gauged each other in quick attack manoeuvres. Both exhausted from the ordeal of the day made desperate attempts to kill. Blood flowed freely from deep gashes sustained during their frenzied attacks but eye contact remained unbroken. The night was wearing out. Time for the kill. The baby’s life was at stake. Both leapt at each other. Stillness of the forest was shattered with screams, shrieks, wails and snarls. As the first rays of the sun entered the forest, both lay exhausted, bleeding profusely. Mustering the last shreds of energy Durga picked up Babu while Mother Wolf picked up her cub and ran off towards the edge of jungle. Durga reached the river’s edge, put Babu down and stooped for a drink of water. Their eyes met once again as the mother wolf on the other bank also stooped for a drink. Both mothers exchanged glances of admiration and mutual respect as they quenched their thirst in the calm waters flowing between them..... |
| Only what you can know by feeling-sensing directly is real. Thoughts-concepts are just that, they are not reality. The life of the spirit is the life that lives exclusively in the present, here and now, nowhere in the past or future. The knowledge you get from meditating is so direct and simple, you need not philosophize nor analyze to know it. It just is, you just know. People think they know themselves well but this is not true; what they know is a lot 'about' themselves. If you really know your own mind the greed, the delusion, the anger, the unwholesomeness that drives the mind, then these will slowly decrease. When you understand your mind you are no longer at its mercy. Then you truly find lasting happiness; you know how to keep yourself happy. You will be able to see how the mind creates its own problems and unhappiness. It is necessary to just look and know the state of the mind. There is no need to correct, or change, or control the mind, just know what it really is. Know your feelings, how a mind state affects you and without thinking further on the subject, just know what you can experience directly, i.e. the feeling of anger or doubt, disgust. And when the feeling decreases see how the state of the mind has changed. There is no need to justify or stop what you are feeling. (What you can sense and know directly). Thoughts are merely your assumptions not what you are. |
| Elvis made us dislocate our bones. Dylan helped us discover poetry. Abba made us fall in love with blondes and brunettes. Beatles inspired us to imagine and live in an octopus’s garden. Cohen gave us a baritone complex. Marley taught us to stand up and fight. Boney M lit us a rocket to Venus. Osibisa brought us the sounds of Africa. Eagles flew us to a hotel in California. Dire Straits put us with some sultans high up on swings. Jimi Hendrix spoke to us with his guitar. Beegees did us in with very deep love. Carpenters led us to the top of the world. Queen brought us the legend of Mercury. Rainbow invited us to the Temple of the King. Kenny Rogers told us about cowards. Doors opened us to a certain Mr Morrison. Deep Purple set us on fire with smoke on the water. Smokie got us Alice. Don McLean fed us Pie. Cliff Richards congratulated us. Dolly Parton distracted us. Santana hypnotised us. Tull broadsworded us. Floyd pinked us. Michael thrilled us. Kiss kissed us. And Jim Reeves, Harry Belafonte, Tom Jones and others left us with memories that will never leave. For the lot of us who grew our ears in the late 70s, the ride to adulthood was one mind blowing trip on the back of the humble cassette tape. Long live the music of our time 💃🏼🕺🏼🕶️👢👠🍹🎭🎼🎷🥁🎻🎧🕰️📿🔱🎶🔊♾️ |
| Result of slightest hesitation... And why should we avoid it... Neil Armstrong, he is the 1st person to set his foot in moon. But, do you know who was supposed to be the 1st person? Many don't know... His name is Edwin C Aldarin... He was the pilot for the Apollo mission. He was working for the American Airforce. Moreover he had experience of space walking, hence selected as the pilot. Neil Armstrong worked for the American Navy. He was selected for his courage as co-pilot. When the Apollo mission landed on moon, they received a command from NASA, "pilot first". But Aldarin was hesitant, "what will happen", "will I get sucked in or will I burn out", etc. The hesitation was not for hours, but few seconds. In the meantime, NASA sent the next command, "co-pilot next". Within next second, Neil Armstrong put his foot on the moon & became part of world history. World history was changed in 1 second. Though Aldarin had the qualification and talent, because of hesitation, he is not recognised by many people. The world remembers only person who comes first. This is a good example of how people lose out because of hesitation & fear. Whenever you see the moon, remember this, "A moment's hesitation can stop us from our greatest victory". We all have great potential in us, the only thing that stops us from achieving what we are supposed to achieve is our hesitation, fear and shyness. Many people are shy to ask, shy to appreciate others. If we fail to do the right things, we will most likely do the wrong things. Avoid hesitation. |
| I counted my years and realized that I have Less time to live by, Than I have lived so far. I feel like a child who won a pack of candies: at first he ate them with pleasure, But when he realized that there was little left, he began to taste them intensely. I have no time for endless meetings where the statutes, rules, procedures & internal regulations are discussed, knowing that nothing will be done. I no longer have the patience To stand absurd people who, despite their chronological age, have not grown up. My time is too short: I want the essence, my spirit is in a hurry. I do not have much candy In the package anymore. I want to live next to humans, very realistic people who know, How to laugh at their mistakes, Who are not inflated by their own triumphs and who take responsibility for their actions. In this way, human dignity is defended and we live in truth and honesty. It is the essentials that make life useful. I want to surround myself with people, who know how to touch the hearts of those whom hard strokes of life have learned to grow, with sweet touches of the soul. Yes, I'm in a hurry. I'm in a hurry to live with the intensity that only maturity can give. I do not intend to waste any of the remaining desserts. I am sure they will be exquisite, much more than those eaten so far. My goal is to reach the end satisfied and at peace with my loved ones and my conscience. We have two lives and the second begins when you realize you only have one. |
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