Monday, 16 November 2015


Often, I feel, while beginning to write a short note, that I may be the next one in line to get people's vote for a death sentence. But having realized that people still do acts of nonsense seriously, I am assured that it shall be long before I am executed. 
Keeping these bad possibilities aside, and with a reminder that this is indeed a note which is short, here is my deduction on who or what God is. First of all, God is unseen and present everywhere. Secondly, He exists in 33 crores of avatars in Hindu mythology and believed as One in most others. Even the oldest of faiths did worship multiple gods. Now, speaking much on gods in such a sensible world may end up in me being a world criminal. So, keeping these aside too, let's focus on God. 
Defined by properties of omnipotence and omnipresence, this God of ours must have extreme powers. From a needle to the Burj, He is there and we respectfully believe in this. But has anyone seen/heard God speak? According to most, we feel His love through our successes, and His lessons through failures. He must live beside us, from before birth to after demise, must travel with us to offices and hospitals, must laugh in our joys and cry in our sorrows, and must be within us. So, He must be someone who is familiar to us. Only one satisfies these properties, or more crudely, specifications, and that is, Time. It (He) stays with us, remains with us on birth certificates and even after death on death certificates. It decides whether our name shall remain here after we are gone. It stays within us in our pulses. Our offices and schools start and end with It. The day and night are Its decisions. It has been here since unknown, and cannot be killed, although killing Time is an expression. We pray to God seeking that Time be with us, unknown of the fact that we pray to Time (God) asking It (Him) to be with us.
We are so engulfed in business that we have missed Its interpretation! God can never be complex, He is simple. He exists such that even though man shall be ignorant or busy enough to visit a place of worship, yet He shall be there around him, and within. It is Time that is God!

Thursday, 12 November 2015


(Wishing everyone a happy Deepawali)

Waving hands and dancing feet
of the young, uncles and cute aunties
brought a scene of pretty treats
to anyone who felt crazy, festive!

Fragrant candles and earthen lamps
instilled freedom and happy gains;
burning sticks and swooshing rockets
welcomed the falling star's burning trail!

Thursday, 5 November 2015


This write-up gives a glimpse of men, gods and festivals, and believe me, the words in it shall be fewer than my previous ones! Also, don't take it to be an article on photography; it is just a collection of sights seen at a place! Try to grab the way in which the art is done rather than how it is clicked!
This October, I had a chance to visit Puri, Orissa, India well-known for the Jagannath Temple. Although travel is not my cup of tea, and I am too poor at it, yet what I experienced there was more than inventing an algorithm on One Time Password. On Dusshera when victory of good over evil is celebrated, I was a part of something which I must not blabber and let the photographs speak!
The idols of Goddess Durga were lined on one side of the road, and the idols of the Ravana on the opposite. It was a joyous affair. People did not wish to miss the last farewell of the bride. About the idols of the Lanka King, people actually wanted to keep those, and never burn them. For there was a touch of imagination in every product of clay that stood godly and human, thanks to the artist who moulded behaviour into a mere muddy mixture. I just had to watch. On one hand, the crowd was carrying me forward, and on the other, the art was so convincing that I wished to understand every colour present. The posture and texture of the gods and goddesses were worth appreciating, and I know I cannot finish writing them down here. I don't know about the rituals involved, but I honestly feel that the art connected me to the thought that imagination is beautiful.
And, amidst so many people, I somewhere felt the presence of a soul, and how it stays calm beneath the skin.

Pardon me for the raw and poor images. Neither am I a photographer nor did the madding crowd allowed me to capture the click at correct times! I was clicking on the phone so that at least I could bring back some saffron lights captured in a device and a mind too!

The Post Dinner Affair

All copyrights of the photographs rest with anyone who may use them for any peaceful purpose!

Sunday, 1 November 2015


I had always thought that mosquito liquidators are not pretty effective;they are only comforters to those who are too tired or lazy to put up their mosquito nets. Similarly, I had always thought fiction could never be as clean as truth. True stories are so evident, and fiction is just like a basket of beautiful lies. And that cool Sunday too, I was wondering on my verandah if the progress in the country was actually happening when I saw that little girl at my house's newly painted gate. She was enjoying the weather like I was, but I hoped she really did not care about liquidators, fiction and progress. She played for sometime with the brownish pebbles perhaps, I was unsure of the tools used, and then laughed her bellies out at a motherless stray kitten which I had not allowed my wife to take in. Watching her, I dozed off. 
When I woke up, it was almost dark. The lights of the gate should be put on before my wife returned from her Sunday shopping. I knew she would learn some new recipes from her friends and experiment them on me. However, she never fails to impress me. I am a gourmet, you should know. 
The girl was still at my gate. I was a bit worried and neared her.
"Hey. Why are you here? " I asked, but suddenly felt my question was too harsh for a kid. 
I asked again," Where is your mother, kiddo? " 
She smiled, and it was comforting. 
"She has gone to work in the nearby lane," she answered. 
"What work? " 
"She carries bricks on her head to that big house that is being built there." 
I understood. She was talking about the Angel Apartments being built newly at our locality. My brother in-law had insisted me to invest on that construction, but, I felt it quite a troublesome job to look into. 
"But, kiddo, you shall feel cold here. Come in." 
She smiled again. 
"No, Ma shall be arriving soon. The stars are out in the sky. It means she will return." 
I was quite amazed at her words and worried too. 
"Beta, you are lonely out here. Come inside till Ma arrives." 
And she replied promptly, "Ma says that I can never be lonely, because she says that stars are never lonely." I decided not to speak, and allowed her to live those moments in complete faith on what her mother had told her. I waited beside the little girl.
Then, I realised that liquidators are not false instruments, truth may often entirely
seem like fiction, and my country's progress is not stagnant. For there is hope in even the dullest of life, farthest of winds and weakest of stars. For stars are never lonely, and I believe in fiction.