NOT FOR SALE... :D

Hidden persona...umm..the mind behind all the creations (see down...here!!! on ma blog) special thnx to her for decorating ma lifeless blog hehehe :P

ohk..ohk...let me make u aware of d fact dat these r NOT FOR SALE...

hmm..our balcony luks a bit tidy n colorful now..

this ws done whn she ws jst 10.

hey gv ma umbrella back...tweety wid grr...my umbrella

clay n plasters cn do so many wonders....i jst realised..well it takes lot of colors n artistic magic to which i m still alien..:D :P

meeeaooou.....garfield's gf is on my blog now..
Odie!!! u listening....take care of Jon n Ellen..

oh, forgot to cristen the tubby choice..thats..emm..
brgeropizzalien pastachickky!!!

garfield..run...catch it if u cn....

Gannu bhaiya..a clay which transformed into life. luk at the teeth..huh..ladoos cn't stop my temptation for sweets....gulp..***hummm....

hanuman...ooo..luks liked copied from smwhr...tell u smthing funny abt it..
the tail was added after 2 days, whn we actually realised dat..smthing is missing :))

The gOLDen Age

The gOLDen Age

Sachin’s mother, “Its enough now! We want independence, liberty and peace. The time is ripe to send them to their OWN place.”

Father, “Yes, you are right, I guess. Hey, I had a conversation with one of my colleagues and he gave me the address of one of the place that we were looking for. Mama and Bauji will feel like home.”

Mother, “Okay, so do it as early as possible. Sachin is also a young boy now.”

Sachin, who was till now standing near the doorsteps and listening to the conversations, entered the room, “Mom, when will you make me marry?”

Mother, in a perplexed tone, “My dear son, right now you are quite immature and small for all this stuff. But why did you ask such question?”

Sachin, “I was wondering that I too, as a part of family ritual, would have to send to your OWN PLACE, once I get married.”

It’s not just the story of Sachin’s home, it’s a common day phenomenon. Everyone chews the same gum and spit or throw it out once the sweetness departs. How ironic phenomena exist on this planet? When a seed is sown, it is cared like anything. When it grows into a plant, it is nurtured to give the fruit. But when it grows old with the gnarled branches, no leaves, no fruits, but with roots intact, nobody cares for it. People start looking down on the old and desolate tree and it is considered as an obstacle. And then, the axes perform the rest of the job…

Same thing applies to us, the humans (if I can say that). A child is nurtured with utmost care. When he grows young, he is expected to earn (fruit) for the family. But when he grows old, (as a part of ritual), the only place left for him/her on this big planet is an Old Age Home, as if it is some dumping bin which is always ready to embrace all the redundant and no longer in USE stuff.
An African proverb says, “The death of an old person is like the loss of a library.”

……….
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Another story that I came across while blogging was even more touching and left me bewildered about my (our) responsibilities towards elderly. The story goes like this:

An 80 year old man was sitting on the sofa in his house along with his 45 year's old highly educated son. Suddenly a crow perched on their window. The Father asked his Son, “What is this?”The Son replied “It is a crow”. After a few minutes, the Father asked his Son the 2nd time, “What is this?” The Son said “Father, I have just now told you “It's a crow”. After a little while, the old Father again asked his Son the 3rd time, “What is this?” At this time some expression of irritation was felt in the Son's tone when he said to his Father with a rebuff. “It's a crow, a crow”. A little after, the Father again asked his Son the 4th time, “What is this?”This time the Son shouted at his Father, “Why do you keep asking me the same question again and again, although I have told you so many times 'IT' S A CROW'. Are you not able to understand this?”A little later the Father went to his room and came back with an old tattered diary, which he had maintained since his Son was born. On opening a page, he asked his Son to read that page. When the son read it, the following words were written in the diary: ``Today my little son aged three was sitting with me on the sofa, when a crow was sitting on the window. My Son asked me 23 times what it was, and I replied to him all 23 times that it was a Crow. I hugged him lovingly each time h e asked me the same question again and again for 23 times. I did not at all feel irritated I rather felt affection for my innocent child”. While the little child asked him 23 times “What is this?”, the Father had felt no irritation in replying to the same question all 23 times and when today the Father asked his Son the same question just 4 times, the Son felt irritated and annoyed.

So, the moral of the story make us realize that how repulsive we are not only to address their problems and even in listening to them.
So, if your parents attain old age, do not repulse them or look at them as a burden, but speak to them a gracious word; be cool, obedient, humble and kind to them. Be considerate to your parents. From today say this aloud, "I want to see my parents happy forever. They have cared for me ever since I was a little child. They have always showered their selfless love on me. They crossed all mountains and valleys without seeing the storm and heat to make me a person presentable in the society today"
This would be the most admirable of all human endeavors.

P.S: Old age is humanity’s greatest invention, and on an even deeper level, it invented us. Old age transformed the way our most distant ancestors gave birth, reared their young, lived together, and fed themselves. Later it propelled the development of culture, language, and society.
- WilliamThomas .

LOHPATHGAMINI....u will always b remembered :)

THE TRAIN TRAIL

The days are still afresh in my mind when I got admission in DU and my college was about 60 km from my hometown. I had two options to commute of which one was through bus and another option was to travel by train, which was economical (and hence viable for meJ). It was a whole new experience to travel by trains (not the ones with padded seats and ac coaches). I have captured few experiences on my odyssey here.

I remember the days when I used to miss my train by few minutes (and sometimes seconds). I had to wait for more than an hour for the next local train to arrive.

I remember the day when I first boarded the LADIES compartment (which was no different from other compartments with guys flocking in and out and standing on the pavements on the either side of doors), the ladies knitting sweaters (I used to wonder which one is traveling faster: Their hands or the train) and exchanging recepies and girls flashing their nail paints, foot wears, bags, and other accessories.

I remember the days when I used to wonder that how the girls used to manage in such crowded places (with hardly any space to breathe) walking with their pointed heels on railway tracks.

I remember how the business actually connects with traveling. We used to purchase 5 pens (all with LEDs), 12 oranges and a wallet each for 10 bucks only.

I remember the beggars begging on the platforms and in trains. Their bhajans and filmi songs were quite comparable to any professional singer. They were made to sweep the floors (which remained all covered by groundnut coatings, wrappers of chips and biscuits and cigarette stubs, etc.)

I remember all the seven stations in between which were no less than the seven wonders on earth (including Azadpur, with myriad slums across the railway tracks!!!). Few of the most cherished experiences were: countless fields with beautiful shapes, flower gardens, farmers going to the fields, the fog settling on the panes of train, rivers and small bridges where our train used to gave a loud roar.

I remember the days when our train used to get late and sometimes cancelled too. And all the passengers (including all the students like me) used to sit on the railway tracks and shout slogans (& slangs!!) against railway authorities.

I remember the days when we used to pass our (not VERY precious) time on platform. I and my friends used to stand on weighing machines which were so rickety that every time we stand on it, it gave a loud whip.

I remember the days when we used to run to catch the train. We used to take shortcuts by passing below the goods trains (aka maal gaddi). It was there that I learned all the athletics (high jump, long jump, forward jump, backward jump, long race, flat race, etc.)

I remember the days when we used to travel on the doorsteps of the train (which according to my parents, was a high risk zone) enjoying the breath taking landscapes.

I remember the days when I used to reach quite late at my station amidst the deep darkness and with my parents flashing torch on each and every face in order to search me!

I remember those good old days when I made hundreds of friends (including many aunties and uncles).

I am missing that golden period of my life. I am missing that fun. I am missing my friends. I am missing my favorite train which never came on time…