A Houseful Nest on Our Window Ledge

A houseful nest on our window ledge 

I so love it when birds make nests in my house. Somehow, it gives me the satisfaction that they probably find a sense of safety here, and that's the reason they chose this place to set up a new home and start a family.

All day, till dusk falls, there is frenzy of activity in the veranda. Dry grass and sundry variety of straws strewn all over...all topped with with a busy chitter chatter, as if they are discussing the nitty-gritties of setting up a new home and advising each other on what kind of grass will keep the newborns more comfortable. Listening to them all afternoon, I let me imagination run wild.

Their chattering fills the house with such positivity. As if all's well with the world.

What's Your Roll Number?

Image Courtesy : Google Images

It all started with inquiries about each other’s roll numbers. We were freshers in college, sitting in the English Literature class, excitedly waiting for the professor to come in. There was still some time to beat, so everyone was either busy fiddling with their phones or making acquaintance with those sitting around them. And almost every new conversation was starting with the standard question - ‘what’s your roll number?’

You see in our college the roll numbers for the first year students were allotted on the basis of the student’s position in the +2 merit list. From 1000 upwards the roll numbers were for the first year students, and below 1000 belonged to the kids from the +2 section. So the person who topped the merit list got roll number 1000, and the next in line, with even a point of difference in the score percentage and rank would get 1001, and so on. So if your roll number was anywhere within 1000 to 1100, everyone would know that you are a top ranker and that defined who you were, at least for the first few months in college.

So here she was, sitting a couple of seats away from me on the left. I had not noticed her, of course, for I was busy with my nose dug deep into some book to avoid unnecessary question answer sessions with strangers. And also more so because I was a fresher not just in college, but also in the city, and feeling a tad out of place among all the Punjabi speaking super bubbly crowd around me.

As we waited, the two girls sitting on my left suddenly realized that they had been sitting in the wrong lecture hall all this while, and got up to come out of the pew. And so this development caused the seats next to me to fall vacant. She shifted towards the vacant spot so that we could all sit more comfortably. And that’s when I saw her.

How beautiful she was! Not pretty, not cute, but beautiful, so simply beautiful! Milky white skin, lush long hair plaited neatly, rosy lips and a sweet ready smile on her face. She was the quintessential archetypal Punjabi girl. Gosh, after so many years I can still see her there, turning to me and asking – 'aapka roll number kya hai?'

I was so taken aback by her innocent face, her beauty and the charming manners, that for a second I did not know what to say. A hello? A hi? Nothing, all I could muster was a curt and indifferent - '1020'. 

'Oh  wow!', she said, but by that time I was back into the book I had in hand, though of course now I was not reading it, but instead wondering if I should have said her a friendly hello at least. The wondering and contemplation lasted a few minutes, and it was her friendly silhouette that finally prompted me to turn and ask - 'And what's your roll number?'

'Aapse to zyada hi hai', she smiled admiringly, '1042,  aapka kya rank tha merit list mein?' she continued, and thus began our first little chitchat. By the time the first day in college wrapped up, we had been together since that English class - we had almost similar subjects, barring one (I opted out of Economics went in for Public Administration instead), we shared her food that she got from home, had some snacks in the cafeteria, strolled around the college identifying the different departments, discussing the teachers and crowd in general, and generally having fun at our own expense, confiding about our eccentricities and whims and fancies.

Looking back, I realize, we were so childlike - we came from simple homes, enjoyed the small and little things that life had to offer, we studied, we had fun, we talked, blabbered rather, about anything and everything - we were so transparent, and that's the reason why we bonded so well. It was later that she shared that it was my roll number that first got her hooked to me - haha, my 1020 as compared to her 1042! Because of the roll number, she thought I was more intelligent than her, and this thought still amuses me!

Later in college, when I joined NCC, I pestered her to join too, so that we could be together, and she reluctantly gave in. And what followed was mad fun at various outstation camps - singing late into the night, helping each other in the strenuous tasks, scrounging for food when the NCC mess became absolutely unbearable and standing for each other when random discussion with other cadets started going out of hand.

In our friendship, she is the one who has always been the more giving and affectionate one, and I admire her for that. There have been times when I have been unable to acknowledge and appreciate her love and affection for me - and I think about those time off and on - and I realize my shortcomings. But she knows me, knows how I am, and that keeps me comfortable.

Today she is a PHD holder, a happily married woman with a cute little son and I am so proud of her. Here are a few lines I wrote about her as I thought about our days in college:

Ek sohni kudi punjaban

Naal mere oh pad-di si
Gori chitti pariyaan wargi,
Te mithiyaan gallan kar di si!

 This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

If My Dad Was A Politician

‘The country has gone to the dogs! Shameless corrupt politicians! No morals whatsoever!'

This is not my rant against our politicians. I have moved beyond that – moved beyond ranting and waxing eloquent about the lot that our politicians are. Now their idiosyncrasies do not enrage me, they just keep me amused, well most of the times that is. The words in quotes rather form a part of my dad’s daily tirade against the state that our country is in – they are his standard lines to vent about the shenanigans that our worthy politicians indulge in on a daily basis.

I understand his helplessness. And I also understand that with his kind of idealism and clinical approach towards issues that have plagued and continue plaguing our country, he can play a vital role in sorting quite a lot of mess out of our corruption prone administrative policies. Only if we had politicians like him, who could transfer their frustration into well thought out and implementable plans of action. Wow! That’s an exciting idea – my dad as a politician! Not just any politician, but someone important, someone who has a say in the way the country is managed.

Well, how would things be different if my dad was a powerful politician? I guess many of us, if given a choice of having their dad as a mighty man from the parliament would want them to handle significant portfolios like External Affairs, Finance or, Defence may be. But not my dad, I do not want a fancy portfolio for him. No complex foreign policies for him please. No scam-prone multi-million dollar schemes to accelerate the economic growth either. If my dad was a politician, all I would want is a beautiful country flocked by tourists! Yes, that’s what I want, for starters. If my dad was a politician I would want him to head the Tourism Ministry.

My Dad, the Minister of Tourism

Lame, you would think. Why not Railways or Coal for that matter? Oh...Tourism Ministry for the junkets and the other perks? Free family trips to exotic international locations? Nah nah! That’s not my story. My story runs on a different tangent. I am a travel enthusiast who is passionate about ancient monuments, and all the architectural grandeur that abounds our beautiful country. But other than a few much publicized monuments, quite a large part of our architectural heritage lies ignored and neglected. Many such monuments are a treasure trove of intriguing historical stories. If my Dad is the Tourism Minister, I will ask him to take initiatives to highlight the tourism worthy sites across the country. He will look into it and then advice his the ministry officials to plan out policies and brochures that bring to limelight the hidden treasure trove of architectural beauty that our country is.

Besides highlighting the architectural glory of own country, there would be campaigns to highlight India beyond the Golden Triangle and the Taj Mahal. The Tourism Ministry, under my dad’s leadership would also take concrete steps to formulate policies and programmes to encourage people to travel more. There would be media drives to encourage locals to explore their country, with special packages designed to meet every budget.

While these measures would focus on encouraging tourism, the ministry would also have a special Board, solely responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of all the listed tourist sites across the country. There would also be another national Board to look into all sorts of issues and complaints from tourists, regarding any problem they might have encountered while travelling in India. This Board will have separate divisions for domestic and international tourists so that the complaints go in their respective divisions and are handled in an expedited manner.

I am sure the present Ministry of Tourism has already incorporated some of these steps in its functioning, but with my dad as the Tourism Minister, the key would be to strictly stick to the laid out rules and regulations. It is the discipline that he will bring to his office that will make him a cut above the rest and will make him the best Tourism Minister the country has ever had.

And if someday this happens for real, none would be more proud of him than me. So probably for starters, I should get going to goad him to jump on the political bandwagon. Delhi should not be too far once this passenger gets on-board! And what would it all mean to me you ask?  Probably exotic junkets the year round, eh?

Amba - A Saga of Revenge

From the Book Blurb: 

Amba: A Saga of Revenge, from Amar Chitra Katha tells the compelling story of one who played a crucial role in the final outcome of the epic battle of Kurukshetra.

My two cents:

Amba, the eldest daughter of the King of Kasi, is all set to choose her husband from amongst the suitors who have come to try their luck in a swayamvar organised at her father’s court. But a tyrannical twist of events leaves Amba vying for Bheeshma’s blood. And as the saying goes – hell hath no fury like a woman scorned – an embittered Amba is out to seek revenge, and plans to leave no stone unturned to avenge the wrong done to her.

She knocks at all doors – requesting Princes, Kings and even Gods for help to take on Bheeshma, but no one obliges her, fearing mighty Bheeshma’s wrath.  Disgruntled, she sets out to appease Lord Shiva in the hope that her severe penance will please the almighty God to help her.  Her fierce determination bears fruit and Lord Shiva appears before her, with a long-term plan to end her woes.

So how does Lord Shiva help Amba in eventually avenging her humiliation? Who is Shikhandi and where does this interesting character figure in this revenge saga? Who brings Bheeshma Pitamaha down with his arrows? Grab your copy of this vividly illustrated comic to find out, for this fascinating tale from the ACK series definitely enlightens the readers about the many lesser known faces from the Mahabharata and the epic battle of Kurukshetra.

Like I mentioned in my post on comics of yore, this was a comic book I read after a really long time, and that too from the iconic Amar Chitra Katha series. The vivid illustrations, bright colour scheme and the crisp narrative, reading this book was like a beautiful walk down memory lane.

More about the Comic:

Publisher: Amar Chitra Katha
Genre: Comic
Pages: 30
ISBN: 978-93-5085-199-9

Of Comics in the Days of Yore

Amba: A Saga Of Revenge
Amar Chitra Katha's new offing

Read a comic after long, long, really long - and that too from the iconic Amar Chitra Katha Series. The vivid illustrations, bright colour schemes and the crisp narrative - it all took me back to my childhood days when my brother and I, both comic freaks, used to devour these books like maniacs. We were hooked, and I secretly dreamt of owning a comic book shop, where I would just hoard all the comics instead of selling them. We both read anything and everything – so long as the book had colourful drawings and nice cartoons. Fascinating tales from the Amar Chitra Katha series, Superman, Spider-Man, Batman, Mandrake, Phantom, Tintin, Archies, Nandan, Champak, Lotpot – we read them all! Though our ever favourites were the home-grown superheroes Super Commondo Dhruv and Nagaraj, and the friendly lot of Billu, Pinki, Raman, Channi Chachi and Tauji.

Then there were some other popular ones too, that did not enjoy our patronage, the likes of Chacha Bhatija, Motu Patlu, Bankelal and Doga. Their plots were quite flimsy and more often than not, stolen from their popular counterparts.

Chacha Chaudhary and Sabu
Photo Courtesy : www.chachachaudhary.com

And last but not the least, what child of the 80’s India can forget the madcap exploits of Chacha Chaudhary and Sabu! Chacha Choudhary, our desi quick-witted investigator and Sabu, his friend and companion from the planet Jupiter – what a formidable pair they made. And icing on the cake were the two lines that defined them. At every important turn of event, a well placed asterisk took us to those epic lines:

*Chacha Chaudhary ka dimaag computer se bhi tez chalta hai.

*Jab Sabu ko gussa aata hai, door kahin jwaalamukhi phat-ta hai.

Ah, I am getting all nostalgic. Let me go read about some of Sabu’s recent adventures online now. Hope you enjoyed reading about this post. Do share what comics you read as a kid and who were your favourite comic book characters!

A Duck Tale from Lansdowne

In the misty mountains of Lansdowne, there lived in a serene lake, a quacky family of 3 little ducks.

Their friendly neighbour Mrs. & Mr. White Duck visited often, and together they all went frolicking around the lake, going all quack quack.

One day, White Duck Junior too obediently  followed his parents around, though shyly ducking all the questions about his new girlfriend, the little Birdie.

The little Birdie lived in a beautiful house, nestled on a sprawling tree, not too far from the serene lake.

Soon after, the duck fraternity approved of White Duck Junior & Little Birdie's match, and one day at quack of dawn, they came up this church and had a quick little wedding and lived happily ever after.