Relevance of this four letter word in life and the game of chess is pretty close
Everyone around seems to be manouvering and scheming to prove their worth,
They wear a veil to hide their identity before a ruthless move॥
They want to push you to a lonely corner
suffocate you to a miserable end..
Everyone wants a QUEEN for themselves but they strive hard to ensure that you dont get a queen!
They seem to analyze every move you make
They dont " really " rejoice in your moments of celebration and cry in your moments of despair!
Yes, The role of MASK in life and the game of chess is close...
A pawn is not a pawn always and the queen not a queen
They exchange positions!
A friend is not a friend always and the foe not a foe always..
They interchange roles
The MASK makes a difference to their definition..
I have made my my moves all alone...without a MASK
Can i prove a point to all the MASKed faces around????
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
वज्रपात
नभ को चूमती पहाड़ियों के बीच
बसा एक गाँव
गाँव के बीचो बीच है
उस गाँव का केंद्र बिन्दु
वोह विशाल पोखर!
उन्मुक्त बालकों का क्रीड़ास्थल है- वोह पोखर
रूमानी युवाओं का प्रणय स्थल है- वोह पोखर
विद्यार्थीयों की पाठशाला भी वहीं , कन्दूकेन का मैदान भी वहीं,
व्रीधों का चौपाल भी वहीं,अबलाओं का शिव मंदिर भी वहीं ,
साप्ताहीक हाट भी वहीं, वार्षिक दंगल भी वहीं,
लहलहाती फसलों की जान वोह पोखर
गाँव की आन वोह पोखर, गाँव की शान वोह पोखर
आज की सर्द सुबह ,
यकायक , वोह पोखर सूख गया !
बसा एक गाँव
गाँव के बीचो बीच है
उस गाँव का केंद्र बिन्दु
वोह विशाल पोखर!
उन्मुक्त बालकों का क्रीड़ास्थल है- वोह पोखर
रूमानी युवाओं का प्रणय स्थल है- वोह पोखर
विद्यार्थीयों की पाठशाला भी वहीं , कन्दूकेन का मैदान भी वहीं,
व्रीधों का चौपाल भी वहीं,अबलाओं का शिव मंदिर भी वहीं ,
साप्ताहीक हाट भी वहीं, वार्षिक दंगल भी वहीं,
लहलहाती फसलों की जान वोह पोखर
गाँव की आन वोह पोखर, गाँव की शान वोह पोखर
आज की सर्द सुबह ,
यकायक , वोह पोखर सूख गया !
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
जानो मुझको
चाह कर भी शब्दों में ढाल न सकोगी , शब्द नहीं एहसास हूँ मैं
मंदिर के घंटों में मैं ,मस्जिद के अजान में मैं,
चाहत की पुकार में मैं, युद्ध के ललकार में मैं,
जानों कैसी ललकार हूँ मैं, बूझो कैसी पुकार हूँ मैं !
------------------------------------------
मदिरालय के प्यालों में मैं , लंगर के थालों में मैं,
महलों के बिस्कूट में मैं, झोपर के रोटी प्याज में मैं ,
जानों कैसा स्वाद हूँ मैं , बूझो कैसा स्वाद हूँ मैं!
------------------------------------------
महुआ के रस में भी मैं ,लंगर के थालों में भी मैं
सत्यनारायण के पंचामृत में, जानों कैसा खुमार हूँ मैं !
-----------------------------------------------
साकी की चूरी की khun khun , या हो कोठे पे पायल की झंकार ,
माँ दुर्गे की तलवार की थिरकन या हो राम धनुष की टंकार
जानों कैसा झंकार हूँ मैं, boojho कैसा टंकार हूँ मैं !
------------------------------------------------
पाक राखी के डोरे हों या हो युवा प्रेम की ज्वाला
मैं हूँ मात्री प्रेम के रस से भीघी हुई एक काया
जानों कैसा प्यार हूँ मैं॥ भूझो कैसा प्यार हूँ मैं!!
------------------------------------------------
jaith दिवाकर की किरने हों ,या हो जठराग्नि कालाहांडी की,
pokhrun के baaroodon में भी, जानों कैसा अंगार हूँ मैं, बूझो कैसा अंगार हूँ मैं!!
----------------------------------------------------------------
सुरमई छंदों को सुर देने वाला, लैबध गीतों को लेएय देने वाला ,
सुन्दरता को सुन्दर करने वाला,
जीवीत को मैं जीवन देने वाला ,
जानों कैसा फनकार हूँ मैं, बूझो कैसा फनकार हूँ मैं!
-------------------------------------------------------------
दुख में भी मैं हंसने वाला, सूख में भी मैं रोने वाला
फकीरी में भी लूटआऊँ मैं
जानों कैसा दिलदार हूँ मैं, बूझो कैसा दिलदार हूँ मैं!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
अब तक ना बूझी, तो जान न सकोगी
garjoonga तो घबराओएगी
barsoonga तो भीगोगी
बाहूपाश में आने पे जाणोगी
जलन नहीं स्पंदन हूँ मैं
अर्थ नहीं, स्नेहिल एहसास हूँ मैं,
दूस्वपन नहीं , मधुर याद हूँ मैं!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
...
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Crossing the river
The French say it like this – cest la vie…; Am beginning to firmly believe in the uncertainties and suddenness of life…
Out of the blue, The Point noire biz offers hope… The visit is imminent… Am off to Point noire via Brazzaville…
The beach on MY( Kinshassa) side of the mighty river congo is chaotic… But , I have my ways n solutions… Being an expat and one perceived to be a rich one… I have a protocol officer to get all my “formalities” done without me getting troubled... The formalities are a set of arcane services …. They are supposed to check u for ur tickets, visa , yellow fever card , the stuff u are carrying and sometimes the brand/ colour of ur underwear…
They also ask u to declare the asset base!!! How many notes of which currency , how many phones, laptops, cameras etc… Beware.. precision is the key.. Across the mighty mystic congo.. you shall pay the penalty if u are not precision personified!!! I mean 416250 fcfa means u declare exactly the same..
Yes, am thru .. Jean luc, my protocol, is a smooth operator .. I wait in my car till he does the FORMALITIES!!! I am put on a canoe rapide!!!
There are few others who seem relaxed and contented… it is a small boat powered by a 40 v motor…. The initial coughing of the motor and the the huge width of the river congo in front of my eyes form a deadly cocktail… I get back to the age old solution.. When in fear -Chant Hanuman Chalisa! which my hindu Brahmin upbringing has firmly instilled in me….
Hanuman is a brave powerful god in hindu mythology.. Time to seek his help….. Thots of my 5 yr old son who , I believe, is one of the most naughty creature god has bestowed on this earth ,haunt me… I keep on wishing him a sweet au revoir … on the other side.. I keep telling him.. Wait.. I shall be back., soon!
Finally the motor starts roaring .. With a purpose… I know its only ten minutes… But they seem like hours….. The boat bangs on the metallic quay on banks of (brazaville side) of the river…. I wonder , if the same canoe goes thru this mini collision with the metal body on every trip…. There has to be some day when its fibre surface would give away… another shiver down the spine!
Thank God Hanuman for his continued blessings … One more time!
The colonial rulers have left one thing for sure on their african subjects…. Need for archaic systems… useless documentation !!! Am pounded by an unending set of services who want to see my visa, want to check my baggage.. want to see if I have been immunized against plethora of diseases.. and want to count every currency note I am carrying!!!! I don’t have the benefit of jean luc here… I struggle thru each of these check points before I am ready to retrieve my passport ..
Limited amount of the local currency FCFA had been used already to get thru the innumerable service controls.
The passport delivery guy needs his share of the pie… My wallet is empty.. I have big notes of USD which I don’t want him to see…
A white female .. works with UN/ NGO probably.. with the service card dangling around her bust is busy showing off her intelligence to the lesser mortals.. The card and the deep neck line of the t shirt both draw my attention…
Thought she wld be the one who would part away with a 1000 fcfa-(2 usd ) to get me out fast.. I had done that so often for fellow expatriates in the dark continent that expecting the same was not asking for the heavens…
That was not to be… She quickly retrieved her passport without parting away with any of the notes.. She did give a big artificial smile to the guy across…
The immigration guy suddenly turned mischievious, He realized that he didn’t check my ordre de mission! .. Here It was ! I had not carried a letter from the company certifying that I was entering the haloed country for business purposes.. And this was a huge mistake which could attract huge penalty. The penalty was calculated with 3 immigration inspectors huddled in unison! What a silly prey I was.. I could see them already celebrating.
Vous pouvez payez deux cent cinqante (250) dollar!! Voila.. I was trying to hide the fifty usd note and the penalty was five times that..
The game boiled down to basic competencies required to survive and flourish in these terrains- Negotiating, wheeling dealing!!.. I close the deal and get lighter by a bill of 50 usd!
The scene moves to Maya maya Airport Brazzaville where I shall catch a flight for pointe noire…
Out of the blue, The Point noire biz offers hope… The visit is imminent… Am off to Point noire via Brazzaville…
The beach on MY( Kinshassa) side of the mighty river congo is chaotic… But , I have my ways n solutions… Being an expat and one perceived to be a rich one… I have a protocol officer to get all my “formalities” done without me getting troubled... The formalities are a set of arcane services …. They are supposed to check u for ur tickets, visa , yellow fever card , the stuff u are carrying and sometimes the brand/ colour of ur underwear…
They also ask u to declare the asset base!!! How many notes of which currency , how many phones, laptops, cameras etc… Beware.. precision is the key.. Across the mighty mystic congo.. you shall pay the penalty if u are not precision personified!!! I mean 416250 fcfa means u declare exactly the same..
Yes, am thru .. Jean luc, my protocol, is a smooth operator .. I wait in my car till he does the FORMALITIES!!! I am put on a canoe rapide!!!
There are few others who seem relaxed and contented… it is a small boat powered by a 40 v motor…. The initial coughing of the motor and the the huge width of the river congo in front of my eyes form a deadly cocktail… I get back to the age old solution.. When in fear -Chant Hanuman Chalisa! which my hindu Brahmin upbringing has firmly instilled in me….
Hanuman is a brave powerful god in hindu mythology.. Time to seek his help….. Thots of my 5 yr old son who , I believe, is one of the most naughty creature god has bestowed on this earth ,haunt me… I keep on wishing him a sweet au revoir … on the other side.. I keep telling him.. Wait.. I shall be back., soon!
Finally the motor starts roaring .. With a purpose… I know its only ten minutes… But they seem like hours….. The boat bangs on the metallic quay on banks of (brazaville side) of the river…. I wonder , if the same canoe goes thru this mini collision with the metal body on every trip…. There has to be some day when its fibre surface would give away… another shiver down the spine!
Thank God Hanuman for his continued blessings … One more time!
The colonial rulers have left one thing for sure on their african subjects…. Need for archaic systems… useless documentation !!! Am pounded by an unending set of services who want to see my visa, want to check my baggage.. want to see if I have been immunized against plethora of diseases.. and want to count every currency note I am carrying!!!! I don’t have the benefit of jean luc here… I struggle thru each of these check points before I am ready to retrieve my passport ..
Limited amount of the local currency FCFA had been used already to get thru the innumerable service controls.
The passport delivery guy needs his share of the pie… My wallet is empty.. I have big notes of USD which I don’t want him to see…
A white female .. works with UN/ NGO probably.. with the service card dangling around her bust is busy showing off her intelligence to the lesser mortals.. The card and the deep neck line of the t shirt both draw my attention…
Thought she wld be the one who would part away with a 1000 fcfa-(2 usd ) to get me out fast.. I had done that so often for fellow expatriates in the dark continent that expecting the same was not asking for the heavens…
That was not to be… She quickly retrieved her passport without parting away with any of the notes.. She did give a big artificial smile to the guy across…
The immigration guy suddenly turned mischievious, He realized that he didn’t check my ordre de mission! .. Here It was ! I had not carried a letter from the company certifying that I was entering the haloed country for business purposes.. And this was a huge mistake which could attract huge penalty. The penalty was calculated with 3 immigration inspectors huddled in unison! What a silly prey I was.. I could see them already celebrating.
Vous pouvez payez deux cent cinqante (250) dollar!! Voila.. I was trying to hide the fifty usd note and the penalty was five times that..
The game boiled down to basic competencies required to survive and flourish in these terrains- Negotiating, wheeling dealing!!.. I close the deal and get lighter by a bill of 50 usd!
The scene moves to Maya maya Airport Brazzaville where I shall catch a flight for pointe noire…
Precious Life.....
I started the journey.. alone.. a bit doped from the excesses of the revelery of the evening before..
The boat ride on the river congo.. turbulent waves and sweating forheads
Crass shouts of the pilot for maintaining the equlibrium of the boat..
A heavy african mama with her heavier bag shifts to the other side... The boat shakes and tilts precariously to the other side..
The pilot pushes the accelerator.. splashing cool congo water on all the passensgers..
The sweaty foreheads and heavy hearbeats get a cool respite
Journey continues...
The take off in air congo samples the next 2 hours of plight in the flight...
Landing on a muddy tarmac accentuates the feeling.....
The massive clapping by the passengers on landing..
My back hurts.. head swings
And the girl in the front seat finally vomits..
Wonder.. How precious is life?
The boat ride on the river congo.. turbulent waves and sweating forheads
Crass shouts of the pilot for maintaining the equlibrium of the boat..
A heavy african mama with her heavier bag shifts to the other side... The boat shakes and tilts precariously to the other side..
The pilot pushes the accelerator.. splashing cool congo water on all the passensgers..
The sweaty foreheads and heavy hearbeats get a cool respite
Journey continues...
The take off in air congo samples the next 2 hours of plight in the flight...
Landing on a muddy tarmac accentuates the feeling.....
The massive clapping by the passengers on landing..
My back hurts.. head swings
And the girl in the front seat finally vomits..
Wonder.. How precious is life?
Survival lessons …
The boy on the street hasn’t smelt food for days
His stoned eyes and the swaggered walk..
His emaciated body and his confident body language
His knock on your car window and your reprimand
His begging eyes and his demand for small currency notes
His radiant face and his thankful eyes
His scream of joy when you speed off
His running away from his fellow comrades and the ensuing chase..
Have taught me a lesson or two in survival
Just saw him buy some more stuffed ciggies…
He shall survive this cold night!
His stoned eyes and the swaggered walk..
His emaciated body and his confident body language
His knock on your car window and your reprimand
His begging eyes and his demand for small currency notes
His radiant face and his thankful eyes
His scream of joy when you speed off
His running away from his fellow comrades and the ensuing chase..
Have taught me a lesson or two in survival
Just saw him buy some more stuffed ciggies…
He shall survive this cold night!
DR Congo- Metamorphosis to Democratic Republic of China
DR Congo- Metamorphosis to Democratic Republic of China
Kinshasa- Circa 2004
I have a thick mop of black hair on my head and I eagerly look forward to a stint in the congo.
The country is just coming out of a decade long conflict and I am about to be intiated into parenthood. . There is a transitional government in place with a president and five vice presidents and I am experiencing transit professionally where I move to start a new business. The Big 6 have taken upon themselves the onerous task of reconciling their own conflicting interests and usher in the era of transition. This is a brave announcement considering the past history.
It did take half a decade, a few rounds of shootings, international community and EU’s interference to resolve their own differences , elect an undisputed leader and get the country inch forward . The five chantiers of development taken by the new government is an ample proof of the same.
Back to 2004
Kinshasa , in the transitionary times, has few hundred Chinese souls seeking salvation in this cursed land of plenty, There is a chinese restaurant located on the top floor of a government building and was the favourite of the erstwhile president Mobutu ,if the grapevine is true . The local trade is dominated by the lebanese and Indian origin populace which has made Congo its home for 2-3 generations. There is a substantial flow of the “ diver articles’ from china but the food and machinery still comes from the colonial masters. The coffee and cocoa plantations have been abandoned for a decade and the main biz is “ trading” . The local trading minority has begun to shake hands with few business partners in Guangzhou . The travel to China is done by the heads of the importing houses and they hold forth , on glitz ( read massage) and business prospects of China , in any social get together. The Chinese embassy is not an imposing building and depositing the visa form is not time consuming and stressful.
The roads of Kinshasa are bumpy to say the least . The main boulevard constructed during colonial times has a big divider , is safe to drive and is lined with green trees on both sides. The golf course is partially visible from the main road with thick tall trees hiding the lush and well manicured grass inside.
The local markets are littered with shops owned by Lebanese and Indian origin people . The most common names of shops are soha, shalini and shabnam - each name clearly reflecting the origin and religious affiliations of the owner. The shops are manned by gawky Indian and lebanese teenagers who seem a lot happier selling candles and lanterns than attending high school back home. They also have a shared vehicle provided by the patron for their weekend ventures out.
City life is witnessing an inflow of expats mainly due to increasing UN presence and some business houses who have faith in economic potential of the country.
Circa 2009
I have some strands of grey now coz I have become wiser!
The transition era has given way to the era of reconstruction.
Kinshasa is all dug today… The roads are being broadened ! Much to the dismay of local population , it is a chinese company which is doing this. China has signed a 9 billion usd “infrastructure for minerals” deal with the government with massive mining rights for copper, coltan and cobalt. The roads will surely get broad soon but there are no dividers on the main boulevard now and every weekend a few zombies take each other head on! The trees on either side have been decimated and the golf course seems to have been robbed of its clothing and looks ugly in nudity.
The drivers of the bulldozers and the helpers roaming around the road construction have distinct mongoloid features . I can not mistake them with local physical looks. There are hundreds of Chinese in the expat area of Gombe and there are 4 restaurants which I have visited myself.. Bon marche, the night den of city, with plethora of night clubs and meat eating joints and where Kinshasa comes alive each night is full of Chinese singles. Limete residential and limete industrial has 4 chinese restaurants and numerous massage parlours . A chinese friend and business partner of mine experienced it first hand in his visit and is horrified by the entry of fellow countrymen in the oldest profession .
Prison space is being created somewhere on the planet , behind the big walls!
The marche is full of shops like congochin now co existing with the Sohas and shalinis. They have one thing in common, The entire” article diver” has come from the same country. The world has undergone a change and so has DRC. Even food products like tomato paste , onions, garlics, kidney beans and even milk powder have “ Made in China “ mark.
Each member of the procurement team of mid size importers has visited china . Small time importers now travel to china every 6 months and there is a huge queue in front of Chinese embassy . Local mamas , an importer of 1 container and many young Indian, Lebanese men jostling for timely submission of forms. It takes about 30 days to get the visa !!!
The patrons of the old Lebanese and Indian trading groups have given space to the new entrants and have moved over to greener pastures like construction – as they put it! The city is witnessing a huge activity in housing sector and very soon it is expected the “ accommodation blues” of a new arrivee would get sorted out.
There is a degree of competition for the local population too. The local seller of telephone credits could now be a Chinese. A mongoloid vendor can be heard selling Mai Mai ( water in lingala) pouches in the grand marche. And yes, hats off to the efforts of the Chinese in their adaptability… Hordes walking on foot or riding a moto and inside local taxis!
Long live Sino – Congolese Collaboration!
DRC is the latest to the list of gabons, Camerouns, ROC and other west African countries. Is Africa getting invaded , yet again??
Kinshasa- Circa 2004
I have a thick mop of black hair on my head and I eagerly look forward to a stint in the congo.
The country is just coming out of a decade long conflict and I am about to be intiated into parenthood. . There is a transitional government in place with a president and five vice presidents and I am experiencing transit professionally where I move to start a new business. The Big 6 have taken upon themselves the onerous task of reconciling their own conflicting interests and usher in the era of transition. This is a brave announcement considering the past history.
It did take half a decade, a few rounds of shootings, international community and EU’s interference to resolve their own differences , elect an undisputed leader and get the country inch forward . The five chantiers of development taken by the new government is an ample proof of the same.
Back to 2004
Kinshasa , in the transitionary times, has few hundred Chinese souls seeking salvation in this cursed land of plenty, There is a chinese restaurant located on the top floor of a government building and was the favourite of the erstwhile president Mobutu ,if the grapevine is true . The local trade is dominated by the lebanese and Indian origin populace which has made Congo its home for 2-3 generations. There is a substantial flow of the “ diver articles’ from china but the food and machinery still comes from the colonial masters. The coffee and cocoa plantations have been abandoned for a decade and the main biz is “ trading” . The local trading minority has begun to shake hands with few business partners in Guangzhou . The travel to China is done by the heads of the importing houses and they hold forth , on glitz ( read massage) and business prospects of China , in any social get together. The Chinese embassy is not an imposing building and depositing the visa form is not time consuming and stressful.
The roads of Kinshasa are bumpy to say the least . The main boulevard constructed during colonial times has a big divider , is safe to drive and is lined with green trees on both sides. The golf course is partially visible from the main road with thick tall trees hiding the lush and well manicured grass inside.
The local markets are littered with shops owned by Lebanese and Indian origin people . The most common names of shops are soha, shalini and shabnam - each name clearly reflecting the origin and religious affiliations of the owner. The shops are manned by gawky Indian and lebanese teenagers who seem a lot happier selling candles and lanterns than attending high school back home. They also have a shared vehicle provided by the patron for their weekend ventures out.
City life is witnessing an inflow of expats mainly due to increasing UN presence and some business houses who have faith in economic potential of the country.
Circa 2009
I have some strands of grey now coz I have become wiser!
The transition era has given way to the era of reconstruction.
Kinshasa is all dug today… The roads are being broadened ! Much to the dismay of local population , it is a chinese company which is doing this. China has signed a 9 billion usd “infrastructure for minerals” deal with the government with massive mining rights for copper, coltan and cobalt. The roads will surely get broad soon but there are no dividers on the main boulevard now and every weekend a few zombies take each other head on! The trees on either side have been decimated and the golf course seems to have been robbed of its clothing and looks ugly in nudity.
The drivers of the bulldozers and the helpers roaming around the road construction have distinct mongoloid features . I can not mistake them with local physical looks. There are hundreds of Chinese in the expat area of Gombe and there are 4 restaurants which I have visited myself.. Bon marche, the night den of city, with plethora of night clubs and meat eating joints and where Kinshasa comes alive each night is full of Chinese singles. Limete residential and limete industrial has 4 chinese restaurants and numerous massage parlours . A chinese friend and business partner of mine experienced it first hand in his visit and is horrified by the entry of fellow countrymen in the oldest profession .
Prison space is being created somewhere on the planet , behind the big walls!
The marche is full of shops like congochin now co existing with the Sohas and shalinis. They have one thing in common, The entire” article diver” has come from the same country. The world has undergone a change and so has DRC. Even food products like tomato paste , onions, garlics, kidney beans and even milk powder have “ Made in China “ mark.
Each member of the procurement team of mid size importers has visited china . Small time importers now travel to china every 6 months and there is a huge queue in front of Chinese embassy . Local mamas , an importer of 1 container and many young Indian, Lebanese men jostling for timely submission of forms. It takes about 30 days to get the visa !!!
The patrons of the old Lebanese and Indian trading groups have given space to the new entrants and have moved over to greener pastures like construction – as they put it! The city is witnessing a huge activity in housing sector and very soon it is expected the “ accommodation blues” of a new arrivee would get sorted out.
There is a degree of competition for the local population too. The local seller of telephone credits could now be a Chinese. A mongoloid vendor can be heard selling Mai Mai ( water in lingala) pouches in the grand marche. And yes, hats off to the efforts of the Chinese in their adaptability… Hordes walking on foot or riding a moto and inside local taxis!
Long live Sino – Congolese Collaboration!
DRC is the latest to the list of gabons, Camerouns, ROC and other west African countries. Is Africa getting invaded , yet again??
Remembering Baba...
What I Learnt From My Dearest Baba
Today , My family back home in India is busy organizing the function of Late Babu Raghunath singh memorial scholarship in our native place, Sihauta Bangra. This is an annual merit cum means scholarship which gives cash awards to top five students passing out grade 10 from the High school of Bangra. This year it has been given to 3 girls and 2 boys for academic excellence. Sitting far away from the action, I pay my homage to My grandfather late Babu Raghunath Singh.
Raghunath is another name of Lord Rama. Lord Rama had set high standards all his life and Babu Raghunath singh, my baba, strived all his life to live up to similar lofted standards.
Baba never went to high school for his elder brother was sent for higher education to Patna and Calcutta and he was asked to take care of the family in the village and manage the small zamindari and agriculture. He focused more on building physical strength which were a basic requirement for a young man. He was trained in wrestling by personal tutors and he loved horse riding. He taught me the importance of being physically strong and fit in our early childhood.
Though he never went to high school , he realized that education leads to knowledge and going forward knowledge will be the wealth and not land. He made this clear to me in my formative years. How true !!
He grew up to be a fair , tall man of 6 ft and a thin waistline and very strong chest and shoulders . He remained like this till death took him away from us. He is known to have pulled out the entire moustache of a fellow wrestler in an argument-;) I learnt early form him that the body is a temple and one should worship it.
He idolized his elder brother who was a suave, well educated man with command over multiple languages . Badka baba was his friend , philosopher and guide. Baba closely tracked and followed his brothers participation in freedom struggle and then his transition to a successful entrepreneur to become owner, publisher and editor of an widely circulated magazine in hindi heartland of post independent India . They had an awesome relationship. There would be family squabbles but the love and mutual respect for each other was never lost. Badka baba never disagreed to babas proposal and let him run his fiefdom in total independence and provided all material and moral support to make baba one of the best agriculturist in the neighbouring villages. Just to up his younger brothers social antennae and prestige, He personally invited Mahatma Gandhi and Jay prakash narayan to our village on two separate occasions and laid out a red carpet welcome for them. In turn, baba never disobeyed his elder brother all his life . He remained his arm , never tried to turn independent and operated the rural set up as the extension of the empire of his city based elder brother who remains the most successful , patriot son of the soil of Sihauta Bangra till date. I learnt certain dictums of his life- loyalty is next to godliness and blood is thicker than water.
At the peak of his agriculture phase, he had a large base of workers working on his land. For him ,they worked WITH him and not FOR him. He would be the patron but also be the friend , confidante and counsellor of all his men and their families. I learnt the dynamics of a patron - client relationship though this. Man management is an art, he told me a long back before they taught the same thing to me at the business school.
I regard him as a pioneer at breaking orthodox social barriers.
Post a hard days work , he would spend hours with his men smoking and drinking tea. This was a time when castes ruled the life of rural india more than anything. A land owning Brahmin socializing with lesser children of god would have been ostracized but he cared for none . His men mattered the most for him. I learnt the spirit of equality and camaraderie. The basics of man management were drilled into me listening to these stories and they still hold me in good stead in a faraway land.
He lost my Dadi when he was about 30 years old or a bit younger . Amidst huge family pressures , he stood firm and didn’t remarry which was a normal social custom.. He would often remark that one should listen to all but do what ones heart says. I have believed in that all my life.
Baba was instrumental in getting his only daughter in law (my mother) pursue her higher education post marriage which again was not a social norm those days. He would gloat and take enormous pride in later years over her professional and academic success.
Camarderie and socializing with his men ,apart, he was a a stickler for discipline and quite firm on stray people in the system . He believed that all men were assigned a place in the system and one should respect and abide by the hierarchy. He would often remark that a hat is placed on head and shoes on the feet. I had my degree of arguments with him over this in my initial, intoxicated with youth and rebellious years . With time, I realized that a structure needs to be aligned totally if it has to function seamlessly and deliver results.
Baba would always be demanding on my dad-;) but behind his back his son was the best student and professor of physics in the world. He would not get tired of telling stories of his academic excellence . It goaded us towards academic excellence as he had set a benchmark for us pretty early in childhood.
He was a firm believer in the benefits of joint family set up . My arguments with him that it bred parasites which he countered with his numerous logics which appeared futile to me in my formative years. Today, Bringing up my kids along with my wife , I am reminded of his words !
Agriculture was his forte and and his passion while I tended to stay away from his discourses on this, all my growing years. With my elite schooling - agriculture was without culture-;). Paradoxically, I started my career selling fertilizers and pesticides and I needed to understand the basics of the kharif and rabi crop cycles and nuances of paddy, wheat , rice and sugarcane cultivation! I went to the encyclopaedia at home than search for books on agriculture. Thanks baba for this.
Baba had lived close to the nature all his life and observed it very well. He knew of a herb which was a magic medicine for various eye ailments. He told us that a visiting saint had given him the trick of identifying the herb and applying to the patient. The saint had told him not to ever charge for the herb . Baba followed this all his life and never did the herb fail to have its magic. Even in his last years , he would take an umbrella and be out in torrential rain to look for the herb to provide relief to the suffering soul. He also kept his promise to the saint that he would not reveal the secret herb to anyone else. In spite of my making serious efforts in his later years , he never divulged the secret and politely ignored every request. The secret medicine which cured hundreds during his life time was laid to rest with him.
He would love making rain forecasts watching cloud movements , wind speed, land temperatures and many other weird parameters . I have never seen it go wrong all my life though many a times; scientific doordarshan forecasts would take a beating during our childhood. My love for nature flows in my veins.
He was a firm believer in the dictum – Truth prevails – satyameva jayate! He would believe in a basic way of living which underlined his existence all through- What u give to the world – comes back to you! He would always be very sure that nobody could take anything away from him/ us coz he had never taken anyone’s. I love you baba for sensitizing me early to the power of Universe! Rhonda byrans – are u listening?
He was a believer but took life in his stride. He , who lost 2 sons and a wife in space of 21 days , and that too at the age of 28-30, never said life was unfair. He never cribbed but tried to look at the positive side of everything and moved ahead. Thanks for making me learn that Gods wish is the final wish! Thanks for telling me to smile and be positive and Thanks for making me believe in the song- Har fikra ko dhoonwein mein udata chala gaya – literally and figuratively-;)
Baba loved his nephews and nieces as much as he loved his only son, our dad. This emotion remained intact till his death , All of them were children of his family and hence got equal attention and love. As grandchildren , we were luckier than dad. Though papa had no siblings , he had many cousins to compete for babas attentions while we were only three. But, Out of the 3 grandchildren , with due apologies to my dear sis and bro , I was the apple of his eyes and I loved it always. This was probably coz I was the youngest, I loved sports like him, loved listening to pre independence and zamindari stories , showed traits of zamindar in my childhood-;) ,loved my big tumbler of milk like him and did not show any inclination for a daily morning ritualistic, vedic and orthodoxical tete e tete with god- very much like him ( Apologies papa n bhaiya!) . His fondness for me increased later as i would sneak bidis and imported Marlboros to him ( sourced from my hostelmates) even when the doctors had advised him not to smoke! And I got his special blessings as he breathed his last on my shoulders. Thanks baba for letting me believe in power of love . Wish I love the world, the family and people around me as much as you did!!
Today as hundreds pay homage to Babu Raghunath Singh in his birth place, This one is from faraway land.
I have loved u baba..always! I have never come across a simpler soul who has a place for many in his emotions and prayers. May your soul rest in peace and you continue to guide us as always.
Pray that each one of us is as healthy and as contented in their eighties as you were in yours! Can see u peeping from the clouds , dearest Baba…..
Lovingly yours …
Your Grandson
Today , My family back home in India is busy organizing the function of Late Babu Raghunath singh memorial scholarship in our native place, Sihauta Bangra. This is an annual merit cum means scholarship which gives cash awards to top five students passing out grade 10 from the High school of Bangra. This year it has been given to 3 girls and 2 boys for academic excellence. Sitting far away from the action, I pay my homage to My grandfather late Babu Raghunath Singh.
Raghunath is another name of Lord Rama. Lord Rama had set high standards all his life and Babu Raghunath singh, my baba, strived all his life to live up to similar lofted standards.
Baba never went to high school for his elder brother was sent for higher education to Patna and Calcutta and he was asked to take care of the family in the village and manage the small zamindari and agriculture. He focused more on building physical strength which were a basic requirement for a young man. He was trained in wrestling by personal tutors and he loved horse riding. He taught me the importance of being physically strong and fit in our early childhood.
Though he never went to high school , he realized that education leads to knowledge and going forward knowledge will be the wealth and not land. He made this clear to me in my formative years. How true !!
He grew up to be a fair , tall man of 6 ft and a thin waistline and very strong chest and shoulders . He remained like this till death took him away from us. He is known to have pulled out the entire moustache of a fellow wrestler in an argument-;) I learnt early form him that the body is a temple and one should worship it.
He idolized his elder brother who was a suave, well educated man with command over multiple languages . Badka baba was his friend , philosopher and guide. Baba closely tracked and followed his brothers participation in freedom struggle and then his transition to a successful entrepreneur to become owner, publisher and editor of an widely circulated magazine in hindi heartland of post independent India . They had an awesome relationship. There would be family squabbles but the love and mutual respect for each other was never lost. Badka baba never disagreed to babas proposal and let him run his fiefdom in total independence and provided all material and moral support to make baba one of the best agriculturist in the neighbouring villages. Just to up his younger brothers social antennae and prestige, He personally invited Mahatma Gandhi and Jay prakash narayan to our village on two separate occasions and laid out a red carpet welcome for them. In turn, baba never disobeyed his elder brother all his life . He remained his arm , never tried to turn independent and operated the rural set up as the extension of the empire of his city based elder brother who remains the most successful , patriot son of the soil of Sihauta Bangra till date. I learnt certain dictums of his life- loyalty is next to godliness and blood is thicker than water.
At the peak of his agriculture phase, he had a large base of workers working on his land. For him ,they worked WITH him and not FOR him. He would be the patron but also be the friend , confidante and counsellor of all his men and their families. I learnt the dynamics of a patron - client relationship though this. Man management is an art, he told me a long back before they taught the same thing to me at the business school.
I regard him as a pioneer at breaking orthodox social barriers.
Post a hard days work , he would spend hours with his men smoking and drinking tea. This was a time when castes ruled the life of rural india more than anything. A land owning Brahmin socializing with lesser children of god would have been ostracized but he cared for none . His men mattered the most for him. I learnt the spirit of equality and camaraderie. The basics of man management were drilled into me listening to these stories and they still hold me in good stead in a faraway land.
He lost my Dadi when he was about 30 years old or a bit younger . Amidst huge family pressures , he stood firm and didn’t remarry which was a normal social custom.. He would often remark that one should listen to all but do what ones heart says. I have believed in that all my life.
Baba was instrumental in getting his only daughter in law (my mother) pursue her higher education post marriage which again was not a social norm those days. He would gloat and take enormous pride in later years over her professional and academic success.
Camarderie and socializing with his men ,apart, he was a a stickler for discipline and quite firm on stray people in the system . He believed that all men were assigned a place in the system and one should respect and abide by the hierarchy. He would often remark that a hat is placed on head and shoes on the feet. I had my degree of arguments with him over this in my initial, intoxicated with youth and rebellious years . With time, I realized that a structure needs to be aligned totally if it has to function seamlessly and deliver results.
Baba would always be demanding on my dad-;) but behind his back his son was the best student and professor of physics in the world. He would not get tired of telling stories of his academic excellence . It goaded us towards academic excellence as he had set a benchmark for us pretty early in childhood.
He was a firm believer in the benefits of joint family set up . My arguments with him that it bred parasites which he countered with his numerous logics which appeared futile to me in my formative years. Today, Bringing up my kids along with my wife , I am reminded of his words !
Agriculture was his forte and and his passion while I tended to stay away from his discourses on this, all my growing years. With my elite schooling - agriculture was without culture-;). Paradoxically, I started my career selling fertilizers and pesticides and I needed to understand the basics of the kharif and rabi crop cycles and nuances of paddy, wheat , rice and sugarcane cultivation! I went to the encyclopaedia at home than search for books on agriculture. Thanks baba for this.
Baba had lived close to the nature all his life and observed it very well. He knew of a herb which was a magic medicine for various eye ailments. He told us that a visiting saint had given him the trick of identifying the herb and applying to the patient. The saint had told him not to ever charge for the herb . Baba followed this all his life and never did the herb fail to have its magic. Even in his last years , he would take an umbrella and be out in torrential rain to look for the herb to provide relief to the suffering soul. He also kept his promise to the saint that he would not reveal the secret herb to anyone else. In spite of my making serious efforts in his later years , he never divulged the secret and politely ignored every request. The secret medicine which cured hundreds during his life time was laid to rest with him.
He would love making rain forecasts watching cloud movements , wind speed, land temperatures and many other weird parameters . I have never seen it go wrong all my life though many a times; scientific doordarshan forecasts would take a beating during our childhood. My love for nature flows in my veins.
He was a firm believer in the dictum – Truth prevails – satyameva jayate! He would believe in a basic way of living which underlined his existence all through- What u give to the world – comes back to you! He would always be very sure that nobody could take anything away from him/ us coz he had never taken anyone’s. I love you baba for sensitizing me early to the power of Universe! Rhonda byrans – are u listening?
He was a believer but took life in his stride. He , who lost 2 sons and a wife in space of 21 days , and that too at the age of 28-30, never said life was unfair. He never cribbed but tried to look at the positive side of everything and moved ahead. Thanks for making me learn that Gods wish is the final wish! Thanks for telling me to smile and be positive and Thanks for making me believe in the song- Har fikra ko dhoonwein mein udata chala gaya – literally and figuratively-;)
Baba loved his nephews and nieces as much as he loved his only son, our dad. This emotion remained intact till his death , All of them were children of his family and hence got equal attention and love. As grandchildren , we were luckier than dad. Though papa had no siblings , he had many cousins to compete for babas attentions while we were only three. But, Out of the 3 grandchildren , with due apologies to my dear sis and bro , I was the apple of his eyes and I loved it always. This was probably coz I was the youngest, I loved sports like him, loved listening to pre independence and zamindari stories , showed traits of zamindar in my childhood-;) ,loved my big tumbler of milk like him and did not show any inclination for a daily morning ritualistic, vedic and orthodoxical tete e tete with god- very much like him ( Apologies papa n bhaiya!) . His fondness for me increased later as i would sneak bidis and imported Marlboros to him ( sourced from my hostelmates) even when the doctors had advised him not to smoke! And I got his special blessings as he breathed his last on my shoulders. Thanks baba for letting me believe in power of love . Wish I love the world, the family and people around me as much as you did!!
Today as hundreds pay homage to Babu Raghunath Singh in his birth place, This one is from faraway land.
I have loved u baba..always! I have never come across a simpler soul who has a place for many in his emotions and prayers. May your soul rest in peace and you continue to guide us as always.
Pray that each one of us is as healthy and as contented in their eighties as you were in yours! Can see u peeping from the clouds , dearest Baba…..
Lovingly yours …
Your Grandson
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