For those who are interested to know about Saint Jayadev who in the 12th century authored the Geeta Govinda .. I am happy to reblog a post from Kazhiyur Varadan as below.
For those who are interested to know about Saint Jayadev who in the 12th century authored the Geeta Govinda .. I am happy to reblog a post from Kazhiyur Varadan as below.
Pravin and Raju were friends since college days. They used to play not only lots of cricket at a nearby playground in their locality but also a lot of naughty pranks at others, such much so, that most people used to avoid them whenever they saw them coming their way. Though the general perception about them was so, there was no doubt they were good at heart. Pravin having the rare O-ve blood group was always a call away in emergencies that required his blood group, and many a time he was disturbed from his sleep by someone who was referred to his house in such cases. Raju never lost an opportunity to help the old and infirm. He was a bit short tempered but used to laugh uncontrollably at himself when someone pointed out his mistake. Pravin was always smiling when you met him and it seemed he had a solution to every problem that his visitor had, in his welcome smile.
After college, both decided to set up shops in the nearby town center, a distance of a kilometer walk from their homes. Raju set up a medical shop with his DPharm License and Pravin a Grocery shop next to it. Though both shops were not that expansive, it seemed it had everything any buyer would want when they started frequenting these shops. There were a few as I said who stayed shy away from these two shops and the owners wondering what new pranks they would play on them during their visits.
They had a fair share of critics and cynics who were not happy about how they had settled themselves in life since their earlier predictions about the duo had gone haywire and also wary about what and how they sold. This was one of the topics of the so called group who whiled away their time in the shade of a poor banyan tree who could not but help listen to all their negative conversations.
It was not that there were no other grocery and medical shops in the town and our PR brothers knew it would take some time for consumers to come to their shops from afar. Knowing that the local community would not fail them, they reposed their faith and trust in their businesses and got going. Both had stocked only the bare necessities in their shops since they did not have a big capital while starting their ventures. Having studied the buying habits of the people in their place by frequenting the other shops, whatever they had on their shelves they could sell fast.
One evening on a dark night when Pravin was about to close for the day and down the shutters of his shop while calling out to Raju to do the same, an old woman came up to him asking for a kilogram of rice and half a kilo of tur dal. She was perhaps over seventy with wrinkles adorning her features with a stick in hand. She looked at peace with herself and yet so out of place in the middle class locality. Pravin was wondering where he had seen her and it was then a fragile piece of memory dawned upon him. She lived in a small house with her daughter in law, her son having passed away a couple of years back near the playground. He had gone into their small courtyard once to retrieve the cricket ball that Raju had struck for a Sixer. She, her daughter and her granddaughter subsisted on a pension that amounted to a meager 2000 rupees as per the all knowing banyan tree group.
“Son, should I go back or will you be kind on this old woman in the dark“, she said with a smile mirroring Pravin’s smile. Oh Dadi! how could I be so cruel to have turned away such a beautiful woman away from my shop, was the instant reply that came out from Pravin. Old habits die hard, he muttered as he bit his tongue. How is your granddaughter doing? “Oh, she is not keeping well, down with fever since yesterday. Only when I wanted to prepare some gruel for them was when I came to know there were no provisions at home to prepare one”, with a chuckle came her reply. Gita is also sick since morning otherwise she would have come for this.
Hey Raju, don’t close your shop yet. There is a customer for you. “Dadi do you have some medicine for their ailment or should you need one, you can ask Raju here for one, he is dying to help people recover their lost health”. As Pravin gave the packed rice and dal in her cloth bag in the dim candle light, he waited for her to pay him. She took out her small purse which had a few small denomination rupee notes and quite a lot of coins… In the dim light, since the electricity was out just as as the old lady had reached the place, she was taking a bit of time counting the notes to pay a smiling and observant Pravin. Raju having heard the conversation had come with a strip of Paracetamol and he looked to Pravin with a twinkle in his eyes.
It is okay Dadi if you don’t have enough money to pay us now. You should hurry as I sense rain some minutes away from here, and we don’t want you too, to fall sick. “It is okay sons”, she said, “I think I should have enough money to pay you” as she went on counting her notes and coins to make it tally…
What Dadi? how can your counting tally since each time you are dropping a few notes and coins, as Raju sat down and picked up a few notes and a couple of coins and gave it to her. “That is so kind of you son to have noted it and helped this old lady. I am a bit nervous and hence fidgety with my fingers”. When Raju counted back the money and handed over to Pravin his share and took another 10 rupees for his Paracetamol strip, there were a couple of notes given back to the woman, saying this time also, your counting was wrong. “Come we will give you company, give me the bag, it will be heavy for you”, said Pravin, as the trio traced their steps to her house. Would you want a cup of tea here before you reach your homes was her parting remark. Don’t bother Dadi, some other time, said they, in a single voice and waited outside till she had entered her house.
Raju you were quick to switch off the light, in fact I think you saw her before me. What is our gain today, remarked a laughing Pravin, Well, she got fifty five rupees from me, said Raju. Hmm, and half a kilo more of gram and rice from me. Each patted the other on the back as they walked back, contented towards their homes. Their well devised prank and well rehearsed reach to the poor, who counted their meager store of money in the dim light had worked out well, this time too…
You get off the car, tired of having driven long enough; a break would be welcome, now that the fiery orange sun was retiring fast. You get down onto the road and into the bushes and survey the scene that has now unfolded before you. All this time, as you drove; you never thought that this nature escapade existed at such close quarters.
There, as you focus your eyes, a few hundred feet away, a lake is flowing and on the other side, are foot hills of a long forgotten mountain with shrubs that give it a plantation look which it is not. You come down towards the lake and look for a shallow place where you could cross or wade across.
Now that the summer has set in, here and there, luckily for you, has appeared sand dunes, on which you could put your feet upon and cross over the crystal clear water where dwell colorful fish of all sorts, scurrying now and coming back again to survey you, a stranger who rarely came this way…
According to Aviation data companies in the past year there were an average of 9,728 planes — carrying 1,270,406 people — in the sky at any given time… there are about 25000 plus number of crew members serving that huge number above.
I had got into the plane on a normal clear skies day with the wind at 10mph. The weather was hot and there was nobody I could complain to about it at that time. The plane was not planned at the sky bridge and the airport bus was to ferry us to the Boeing 737 that was parked on the tarmac quite close to exit 3 of the runway, so that it could make a quick getaway considering that it was already 30 minutes late from departure. The inbound run from the country to which I was flying was delayed and that set off the cascade as far as flight times was concerned.
The airport bus ferried us, about 60 passengers in all, in one bus. It seemed this was one day where everyone who had booked the flight were available at the exit gate considering the departure time had already elapsed. The bus made its way and moored itself to the star board side of the flight SD439 and as we came out of the air-conditioned comfort, the heat and the wind made quick bites at our skin as we climbed on to the flight deck, with hand baggage in tow.
The passengers including me settled into our seats by keeping our baggage and duty free supplies in the cabin loft, as we made minor adjustments to the seats and got ready for a 3 hour flight in the mid summer noon sky. The air hostesses; 3 of them were making us comfortable to get ourselves seated and I was glad the flight was not to even half of its capacity. That meant either I would get or not get a companion by my side seat. I was thinking of taking the window seat if no one took it and so my eyes were on the landing deck to see if any new passenger would come onboard.
None appeared, and the flight crew got the orders to close the doors and get ready for take off. The safety instructions came up on the screens, and we readied ourselves, as the jet taxied on to runway 2 waiting for the final signal to take off. Within minutes, it picked up speed and we were in the air taking a steep ascent before we leveled at 1000 feet or so, my eyes glued on to the screens for altitude and speed information.
You seem to have an eye for details, came the voice from behind. I turned back to see one lady who looked like an hostess sitting behind me. I wondered why she had taken that position, as most of them should have been at their designated seats during take off. Don’t worry I am off duty today, she said reading my thoughts.
Hello, I said, yes the take off and landings are special as also a bit nervous to me. Which one you fear most, asked she. By the way, I am Lucy and you,? I introduced myself. I fear takeoffs because of the plane taking its time as it gathers speed and the bumps on the runway not helping much. But did you know, landings are more difficult for the pilots to navigate. Yes, I replied but for the passengers like us, it seems a bit more easy.
Hmm she replied, looking straight into my eyes, I averted mine from her, as I felt a bit uneasy.
After the seat belt signs had gone away with the jet at around 10000 feet and still climbing, it was time for the refreshments. I opted for a can of juice and crackers and made myself comfortable. The lady behind was not to be seen as she appeared to be at the rear in the pantry. I shifted to the window seat though there was nothing much to see at this moment..this is the captain speaking we would be hitting rough weather in a couple of minutes so please put on your seat belts..the crew was running around to take the empty cans when the first wave of turbulence hit us..the plane dropped a bit giving us the butterflies and the wings outside were flaying wildly..hope they can take the stress..i prayed to myself..
Why do we pray when things look pretty bad. That’s how we are wired I guess I said smiling to her second appearance now next to me. Where had you gone..Oh just to see my fellow mates at work. Hope they were happy to get an extra hand today…Nope I didn’t assist them they needed no help since there are only few passengers to feed.
The liqour and soft drinks round had started and one of her colleagues came over stopped asking what would I prefer to which I thanked her saying it is fine. I won’t be having any. She went across to the passenger in front. Why, she didn’t ask you for any drink. It is okay. I don’t. Why did you say No..was it because I am sitting here, it was her turn to question. I do not while travelling, I replied.
Normally there are 4 persons who serve us. Is someone absent or is it you who is playing truant I joked.
There are 4 generally but I guess with 67 pax, 3 is a good number, she said as she held my hand firmly.
Within seconds the jet hit another volley of turbulence and I felt glad she had held me at that moment. Did you see that coming? Mmm experience you see, she smiled her sweetest smile revealing a set of pearl white teeth.
The other crew members looked a bit dazed or sad I couldn’t pin point on what exactly it was. It looked they were going about their tasks in a depressed way or was it stress.. I couldn’t guess.
Looks like your colleagues are tired or is there something else to it. You are very observant; yes they are tired. They didnt get rest yesterday night nor they were rested today. It happens to us; the stress, the separation from loved ones, all gets into us one day or the other and takes it toll on us. Life is a tough taskmaster on the ground as well in the air. How I worked to get this job and see how lifeless it seems now. We never get grounded once we get snuffed off in the midst of a tragedy.
At 30,000 feet the engines were cruising smoothly though my mind was disturbed after hearing her talk.
I didn’t want to change the subject yet asking her as to why she thought so, might be taken as intrusion of privacy.
What chances do we have while we are forced to land on water. I asked her and why do you people smile so much?
We are in a pressurised metal capsule depending on 2 engines and wings with a lot of electronics onboard. Add to it the weather, skills of the crew in the cockpit and the decisions they make, all this makes it stressful to us while we play host to hundreds of passengers like you. Some are at peace while some are curious and others too demanding at times… so we smile all the time; make it a part of our habit and suppress the frown to far off corners.
This job might seem glamourous to you from the ground but like each job it has its pros and cons.
What about my first question?
We do give instructions on how to conduct yourself if at all we need to land on water..but coming to think of it, it all depends on the reason which caused us to try to land on water. First of all this is no seaplane or an amphibian. The chances are less unless the plane is still manageable and the sea calm as a sheet which is rarely the case. You cannot have both options on your side unless the Lord decides to come on your side she said with a sad smile this time.
Have you served on other airlines or is this your first? This is my third and last she said with a delay..Contemplating retirement or a career switch asked I as she looked to me in her late thirties. Yes, a switch which I pulled yesterday. You see I am no longer serving…I called it a day yesterday..time to settle elsewhere where my … mind beckons. Her stunning eyes had me in their grip..I guess I should leave you now. You need to rest I guess, must have been a hectic week for you? Yes it was I smiled back. The cabin lights were switched off now and most of us were trying to grab a bit of sleep.
I saw her walking back to the crew members in the pantry.
I got up when another crew member asked me to adjust my seat as we were preparing for landing…I looked around for Lucy, she had not moved out of the pantry or must be resting herself in some seat as she was off duty.
Within minutes the plane landed at the destination, the pilot thanking us for taking the pleasant journey. I readied my retrieved backpack from the cabin loft and waited till the cabin doors got opened and we walked into the skybridge. I looked around for Lucy but she was not to be found…maybe I will catch up with her on my next flight, soothing myself, I got into the booked cab taking me home about 40 minutes away from the airport.
I got home and had my hands on the morning news paper in the evening. On the 3rd page I came across a column that read Air hostess commits suicide in hotel room yesterday morning…
Omprakash and Jaiprakash had migrated to the town with their mother from the village after their only strip of land was usurped by the landlord on the grounds that they did not make their payments toward the money they had loaned a few years ago.
Omprakash, the elder of the two was a lazy fellow, always complaining about others and even Jai, his brother. This had gone for a few years and their mother did not do much to reverse this habit of Om. They lived in a small shanty on the edge of the town, as they could not afford anything better.
One day, Om took up an argument with Jai and almost came to blows with him, and Jai was told to leave the house and never ever show his face to Om. Their mother was helpless as both of them were grown up now and she could not offer much to bring down frayed tempers.
Jai soon set up a small shop where he borrowed goods on credit from another shopkeeper and started selling them. With his hardworking nature and pleasing manners, customers thronged to his shop and within no time he prospered. A part of his earnings, he did sent to his mother through his assistant.
Om, though he had driven away Jai, was curious to know how Jai fared and one day went and stood in front of Jai’s shop for quite some time. Jai didn’t notice him as he was busy inside.
That evening Om started complaining, as was his usual wont, to his mother.
“I saw Jai today in his shop that he has setup. But he didn’t even bother to look at me, even though I stood for a full 15 minutes to glance at his face. I am sure he has got his hands on some hidden gold, as otherwise, how can he set up this shop in no time?”.
Om’s mother was tired of this and wanted to put an end this conversation soon. “You only drove him away last time saying you don’t want to see his face again and now you, yourself go and stand in front of him to get a glimpse of his face?”.
She continued “Jai doesn’t need to get his hands on any hidden gold to prosper. His hard work and endearing nature alone would suffice to bring prosperity to him. If you go and drive him from there, he will go to another place and still prosper. The hidden gold, that you talk about, is hard work and a sincere nature. He has found it and therefore is way ahead of you. For you, it is still hidden by your veil of jealousy and attitude”.
Om had no answer to this, and walked off in a huff as such emotional taunts laced with philosophy from his mother never made any dent on his psyche…
Satish walked into the narrow lane just in time to spot Veena walking upto him. This was supposedly to be their last meeting. Veena’s father was moving out from this town with his business partner to Ahmednagar . They walked hand in hand across the splattered street with the wind and the rain having played havoc in the small town for the last few days. The turmoil that played out in their minds was not any less compared to the unsettled elements right now.
They had met a few years ago when Veena had come inquiring of a friend who lived in the lane where Satish had moved a few months ago. Do you know where Meena stays, I mean this address, as she showed him a slip of paper on which it was Sajan Nivas, Pakeesa Lane. Yes it is that one said Satish pointing to the next well built house where her friend Meena stayed. And beware of their dog, do not enter unless someone comes to the gate. Call out and somebody should open the door for you. Veena was looking at Satish, a young handsome man who wore a kurta, albeit an old one which had seen many a wash. Thank you. You have been so kind, as she bid good bye. After that she seemed to be a frequent visitor at Meena’s place who was her school mate and had not continued her studies after 10th grade. After attending Lalaram college which was around a mile away, she made it a point to take a detour through this lane hoping that she could meet and chitchat with Meena and have a glimpse of Satish who rarely, it seemed, moved out of his house.
After inquiries from her friend, she came to know Satish was a writer, a poet who wrote nicely and he had a weekly column in the newspaper where his articles and creativity was put on show for a paltry sum of 250 rupees a week. With this money he could barely meet his own expenses, but in the hope that something would dawn on him soon helped him continue and churn out his usual creativity. Most of his poems bordered on the poor and the helpless although he wrote on anything under the Sun. The newspaper did not have a wide circulation, so the publisher much as he wanted to, could not raise Satish’s earnings.
Veena started reading the newspaper regularly more so because she wanted to know more about Satish through his writings and fell in love with what he wrote first and then with the character behind the articles. Slowly they became good friends while Veena was finishing college. She had written her exams and was waiting for the results which would come with the monsoon rains.
Their favorite haunt was the brick wall house where Satish lived or they meandered sometimes to the nearby river that flowed at a walkable distance behind the mangroves. Her father Ganpat Rai had a few shops in the town but of late they were not doing well and he was thinking of another plan to move to another town where he had spent his childhood and youth. His wife Janki was from this town and after marriage he had settled here to look after the family business. But one day, Janki left them succumbing to a rare disease when Veena was 8 years old and after that they were feeling lonely all these years in their palatial house. Veena’s grandmother who was always a lovable woman passed away last year.
It was at this time Shankarnath another business man who dealt in cotton and jute asked Ganpatrai to invest in his business in the same town where Ganpat was thinking of relocating. It seemed to be a good idea, as Shankarnath had quite a booming trading business in the mentioned town and this would prove to be a good start. The decision took some weeks to be cemented and once it was taken, Ganpat Rai sold whatever he had, including this house and was bent on investing the earned money with Shankarnath. It was this decision that was to separate Veena from Satish.
For both of them it was not the opportune moment to tell Veena’s father about their marriage plans. Veena was just turning 18 and there was nothing Satish had in him to seek her hand. He was just a small time writer who eked out a living by writing on scrips of paper in a brick house that was open to the elements just as his mind was…
They walked on the side of the river. The evening was giving way as the Sun was seen fast disappearing in the far off mountains. They had so much to talk and yet kept their silence for words did not carry much weight to the destiny that seemed to take them way. They cast longing looks at the fading sun and at each other, each trying to imprint the other’s face in their minds. How pretty Veena looked against the backdrop, just like a bride whose hands would be decked with Henna in a few years. The question was, would Satish come up in life to gain her father’s respect and seek her hand. Only time would tell. For the time being he captured her image in his heart, the memory of which would keep him alive in her absence.
Time had moved on. It was seven years today when they had met last. Veena and her father had moved to the other town and then after that there was no news from them. Satish waited for quite a few years and after that he too moved to another town , a good 100 miles away to the south but not before leaving pointers with the children in the neighborhood where he was moving to, as he sincerely hoped that one day Veena would come searching for him. He had moved away because the wall of bricks used to torture him with her thoughts, her laughter, the tinkling of her anklets which once ringed within the four walls whenever she used to visit him, to read his latest poems that were unpublished.
He wished to move away from that desolate place, lonely and barren now like the desert for without her presence, her memories used to suffocate him and make him breathless and hopeless at times. He could not, he would not eat, he would spend sleepless nights, the only hours he got sleep had him dreaming with her visiting him again and making his life lively with her constant chatter, her long laughs, and her face flickered before him like a candle that was getting snuffed out. It took him quite a struggle to get himself out of the wretched life in that town and here he was for the last 2 years where he had setup a book shop in this town new to him. He wrote for the leading 2 papers in this town and things were becoming better and he was better known in these places as a person who wrote about the different shades of life. The sorrow and the pain lingered in most of his writings and appeared realistic to his readers who themselves led struggling lives.
Although he was getting busy and getting engrossed in work writing new poems of despair, of loneliness sprinkled with liveliness, a large part of him still yearned for her, her presence and would be always on the lookout for dear her. Whenever the doors parted, partly because of the onrushing wind, he would look up, trying to take a glimpse of a sweetness that had long lost to him, thinking it would be her after all these years, but there was no one except the teasing wind which ruffled his hair just as she would a few times during their occasional meet ups. Will she come at any moment of time, his heart hoped while the rational mind had its doubts, would she pick up on the clues he left in the neighborhood for her to know where he presently lived, he could only cling on to dear hope that for him was now a string of rope that he was holding on to, for dear life, as for him, he could not live like this for long.
The postman while coming on his bicycle sounding his bell had Satish rushing to the door thinking it was some sweet tidings from his lost love, but all the time they would be letters for his neighbor or the monthly magazines to which he subscribed. Whenever he locked his house and frequented the newspaper offices once or twice in a week he would wonder if she would have come during the time when he was out and had gone back unable to find him. He made inquiries on his return but no one had come nor appeared. Who would come in search of a poet who could not make two ends meet with words that flowed from his fountain pen. The rain beating down on the asbestos roof brought back memories of the dilapidated brick house that was open to the elements. Would it have survived this raging monsoon, or the river in spate, he never would know…
This post was inspired yesterday by the couplet written by the late poet Kaif Bhopali which I am listing below for reference and sung divinely by the unmistakable Jagjit Singh with his velvet voice. Please listen to this as it would add meaning to my post.
P.S Also, let me know if a sequel to this would be good to read…
On the banks of a winding river
covered by shade giving trees
stood an old temple now a ruin
one day, was I mighty surprised
to see myself walking towards it?
The glaze from the noon fiery sun
as it struck many majestic pillars
at first blinded me; I could see
a deity of a goddess unattended.
Offering my salutations to her
I looked around to spot anyone
who would come this desolate way
but alas, no one seemed to exist
except me, in these lost quarters.
I walked the once trodden steps
when having heard a sharp noise
I turned around, to my wonder
the old sanctum door now shut
who shut that door, I wondered.
Around the farther side were
trees plenty next to a cool pond
with flowers growing amidst it
my eyes spied in the shade of trees
a monkey, a squirrel eyeing in awe.
The breeze and the fruits in bounty
took me to a dream of bygone days
I dreamt of that place back in time
how festivities rocked the still ground
where people flocked lost in joy.
The temple fair with pristine glory
attracted one and all, near and afar
a visitor in me now in different attire
there I saw a beautiful girl standing
at the steps of the majestic temple.
Was she beautiful, was she radiant
was something about her charm
observing all who were lost in fun
who she was, so bright as the sun
my mind at sea, churned thoughts.
I climbed the lovely temple steps
devotees praying to the goddess
somehow the glow on the deity
could very relate to that on the girl
one in divine, one in human form.
Casual inquiries it was made known
she was the child of the temple priest
a devotee who cared for nothing
engrossed in the service of his folk
worship a mother who was his child.
I circled with the crowd at every turn
her radiant smile, the mighty holy
doubts cleared with the compassion
she bestowed on us with her love
a mother pleased at her children.
At a loss, keep the discovery to myself
do I make it known, had I the courage
should I approach her I wondered
would she listen, as others her age
a woman, she of a countless age.
One day, she was playing with kids
getting close towards the little ones
when she sensed my approach,
the all knowing smile asking
was I attracted to her these days.
With courage, I went near divine her
while the kids not at close quarters
asking her, was it true, I had sensed
she the divine in human form said
keep it to you, which I did this time.
Days were spent meeting and asking
had she powers she could exercise
could she keep the village blessed
she would wait for them to pass a test
then, would decide to be a part of it.
Months passed by, days of joy to me,
one day, the priest’s daughter fell sick
ailments added to her father’s plight
one said of a physician with the king
might help her to tide over her state.
A journey to the palace was too far
to ask for a cure might invite wrath
a lad I was, to carry the message
private to the medic, to respond to
a person glowing, despite her pain.
I went to the court and with difficulty
manage to get his consent, for the call
but he asked a fee, which I doubted
any one, of the village could afford
but they could have tried and helped.
With sad tidings, I got the message
no one cared to help the priest
who did selfless service for them
helped bring blessings from Her
just as She had blessed him with Her.
Chiefs and landlords refused to help
in kind or in money, left him sad
the priest died, broke, just as he was
was this test you told of, she smiled
she was to pass, with me by her side.
Rain clouded to the delight of all
but my plight, no one could gauge
I lost her that night, hands in mine
radiant as ever, loving eyes upon me
in torrents, it poured from the sky.
The river nearby rose in anger
submerged all with its people
waves climbed the forsaken temple
they also washed away our lost selves
I must be glad to part with my body.
It all came back, I was driven here
a place where I loved a girl of glory
a divine Odyssey it got me here
left to reminisce the story of a ruin
would She come again for me…
If you liked reading this, hope you enjoy the sequel that continues as a story in Yajnavalkya