Journey is equally important as Goal.

 July 9, 2025

"It’s not about how you start that is important, but how well you finish"—this is how a piece in the Times of India began, celebrating Novak Djokovic’s triumph as he advanced to the Wimbledon quarter-finals on 7th July. Undoubtedly, the axiom is inspiring and motivating, and perhaps very fitting to highlight the player’s accomplishment.

But this reflection isn’t about Novak or his victory. What struck me were those opening lines. Somehow, I felt it carries a slightly negative undertone. I firmly believe that it is not only the one who achieves the goal who deserves accolades, but also those who walk alongside, compete, and challenge, contributing meaningfully to that success. No athlete breaks world records in isolation. It is the presence of worthy competitors pushing one another to their limits that brings out the best in them.

The same applies beyond sports. In any field, there may be only one who finishes first, but countless others work just as hard, creating the environment, the competition, and the drive that enable that singular achievement.

What we must also learn to appreciate and celebrate with equal enthusiasm, is the journey itself. If we keep glorifying only the "firsts," it will breed destructive competition. Cooperation and collaboration will suffer, and people will focus on creating blockades to make others stumble instead of lifting themselves higher. We should cultivate a mindset where success is measured by drawing a longer line, not by erasing someone else’s.

This thought process must be instilled in our children, and it begins with our educators. Why should a teacher recognize students solely based on academic scores? Classrooms, workplaces, and every other sphere should foster an atmosphere where effort, progress, and integrity are valued and celebrated. When we do this, we will begin to see excellence flourish everywhere.

Sadly, in today’s world, the phrase ‘cutthroat competition’ is taken literally. Competitors are so focused on suffocating others efforts that they lose sight of refining their own skills. The emphasis shifts from honing one’s abilities to harming another’s spirit.

It’s time for some introspection. Let’s bring about the changes needed in our mindset and lifestyle, and walk the path toward becoming a true Vishwa Guru—a global leader not just in success, but in values.

Morning sickness.

 July 11, 2025.

Is ‘morning sickness’ a state of mind or a symptom of an ailing body? Answering this question is no easy task. The state of mind drives the body. It holds the power to heal, to push the boundaries of consciousness, and to fight anything and everything. Yet, some would argue, “illness kills your spirit and corrupts your state of mind.”

As an outsider, it’s easy to preach and sermonize. But confronting what happens within your own body is an entirely different battle. “The one who suffers knows best,” say those who endure disease, and no doubt, they are right. There is no point in countering their counterpoint.

But can the state of mind be steered, guided, and changed? Yes, it can. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, when we cannot control our thoughts, a change of place can help. Simply stepping out of bed, leaving the confinement of four walls, and walking in nature can shift the mood. We must realize that the comfort zones we build often turn into cages, preventing us from experiencing the goodness that surrounds us. And believe me, goodness lies all around.

Going for a morning walk, quietly appreciating the greenery, observing stray animals playfully loitering, watching people of all ages differently engaged in the ground, are all simple, beautiful things, which peps up your spirit. Have we ever noticed the countless shades of green in the leaves of different trees? Even the color of the bark varies from one tree to another.

We can transform ‘morning sickness’ into ‘morning bliss’ with just a little shift in perspective.

Try it! Step outside in the early morning. Nature is waiting to welcome you.

Lust to control in misconstrued hierarchical system.

 13th July, 2025

Control is synonymous with power in a hierarchical system.

The myth runs deep that the more control you exert over your junior colleagues, the more power you wield. First of all, let me again clarify that I don’t believe in the term subordinate, as it reminds me of the slave era. Unfortunately, we still glorify the skewed hierarchical structure in our workplaces, which fuels a bossism mindset. And to establish crude power, one often indulges in brutal control, by being offensive, abusive, and damaging to others’ self-esteem and dignity.

A couple of days ago, a discussion unfolded between colleagues who came to visit me. The topic was how to ensure effectiveness and efficiency in an organisation. One idea floated was that subordinates should always be kept guessing your mood by keeping them on edge in anticipation of the unknown. Your smile should be a premium; your frown, a warning. Another said that divide and rule is a better policy, with a belief that if you spread mistrust, people will flock to you with backbiting, and you’ll get to know everything happening in the office. Wow! That sounded like dirty politics in the workplace. Someone else suggested being completely indifferent to subordinates, so they understand you mean business and won’t tolerate non-performance.

One benevolent voice suggested, 'be democratic'. Listen to everyone, but ultimately do what you think is right.

Different models were propagated to manage an office. There may be many more, as handling situations is often circumstantial.

What struck me throughout the discussion was that no one talked about seeing colleagues as people, to be precise as human beings like yourself. The entire conversation was self-centric: What should I do? No one spoke of understanding the colleague as a person, of wanting to learn about their background and mental state in order to allocate work based on strengths and weaknesses.

We proudly say: learn to separate personal and professional life. But is that really possible? Can someone battling domestic turbulence remain unaffected at work? Can someone struggling under the weight of debt remain composed? Can the loss of a loved one not affect performance? We must realise that what happens outside the workplace often carries into it, and leaders must acknowledge and appreciate that. They must sound supportive and compassionate.

It should not be the mood of the boss that should dictate work culture. The work culture should be defined by the collective mood of all present and working.

We should understand that an organisation is not a battleground for a power game. It is a space where common goals are set, and everyone plays their part to achieve them, together.

Defence and 'bloody civilian' attitude- colonial hangover.

 July 16th, 2025. 

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to attend a very elegant and enriching book launch event. During the discussion, the author shared her views on canines, both as companions and as a menace. The author, a senior citizen and the wife of a retired senior army officer, candidly expressed her thoughts, highlighting how pet dogs are splendid while stray dogs pose a menace. She had many examples to quote.

While describing, she narrated a particularly interesting story, on how once, an army guard complained to her that the “civilian dogs” were responsible for spreading dirt everywhere. The term “civilian dogs” referred, of course, to stray dogs. We all burst into laughter. But on second thought, the remark sounded both ridiculous and offensive, reflecting a certain mindset on the part of the guard.

Many of us have either personally heard or seen in films the casual use of the phrase “bloody civilians” by defence services personnel. This mindset seems to stem from a colonial-era attitude that labeled local Indian citizens as “bloody natives,” or “bloody Indians”, a legacy that, in some ways, continued within the forces as “bloody civilians.”

Armed forces personnel are exceptionally punctual, disciplined, and known for their chivalry, exemplary qualities that often place them on a different pedestal from others. But does this distinction extend beyond the boundaries of the cantonment? Or does the culture of elevating themselves above the common citizen still persist in their demeanor?

I have numerous friends who are senior army officers, and they are among the most polite, humble, and respectful individuals I know. I don’t sense that archaic mindset lingering among them. However, even they acknowledge that, in yesteryears, a clear line was drawn between the military and civilian world, both in professional and personal life. They also admitted that anyone who continues to harbor anti-civilian sentiments today would struggle to adapt to life after hanging up their boots.

Those boundaries have now largely dissolved. This is what a vibrant, robust democracy brings forth, enabling institutional cultures to shed colonial legacies and encourage the building of more synergetic, respectful relationships.

It ultimately stems from the reality that everyone, regardless of professional background, emerges from the same so-called civilian community. And that is exactly where they will return, time and again, during service and certainly after retirement. Thus, this demarcation holds no relevance, except within the scope of core professional operations.

Mental Health issues in Youth and support system

 July 20, 2025

Last night, one of my son’s friends had a mental breakdown. He is a 21-year-old young man. Around midnight, he began frantically ringing the call bell. When I went to attend to him, he appeared visibly disturbed. My son, who is 19, had gone to a classmate’s birthday party. I informed the boy of this. He left quietly, but returned again at 5 a.m., persistently pressing the bell.

We later learned he had been sitting on the stairs since 3 a.m., waiting for the clock’s arm to strike 5. When my wife opened the door, he rushed into my son’s bedroom and sat on his bed for a while, though our son kept sleeping. With great difficulty, he confided to my wife that things were not well at home. A loner, struggling in a difficult nuclear family setup with broken parental ties, he was finding it hard to cope. He longed for a safe space, but his mind wandered endlessly, making him restless and hyper.

He left soon after, but kept returning every half hour. Each time, we offered him water and tried to comfort him. We made it a point to show affection and warmth every time he walked in. This was a boy we had watched grow up with our son. He was an ardent cricket fan, a cheerful boy and always had a joking presence, but was now visibly distressed and deeply troubled.

We could see his condition deteriorating; his mental health issues were escalating. When we woke our son, he told us that at around 12:30 in the night, he had found him loitering aimlessly in the colony. He had walked him back to his house, but the boy was uncontrollable. We later came to know that he was suffering from ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), schizophrenia, and a few other mental health conditions. All these diseases were diagnosed in a year’s time. Our son, his closest friend, had moved to Hyderabad to pursue engineering, and the other two friends had also moved away. The boy was perhaps left without close companionship to share or process his trauma.

I want to share this incident for two reasons. First, to emphasise that when someone struggling with mental health issues reaches out, if even at odd hours, please don’t ignore or judge them. They are not trying to disturb you; they are desperate and seeking help. Be kind, be generous. That compassion might ease their distress and prevent them from taking an extreme step. You never know that your concern, or even one sleepless night (which we often sacrifice for parties), could end up saving a life. One of my friends remarked, "In Delhi, no one cares. But you stayed with him through the night when even his parents didn’t." Perhaps it’s our profession in the police services that has made us more sensitive to such situations.

The second reason I write this is to urge parents to understand that their conflicts, no matter how trivial or grave, leave lasting scars on their children’s minds. Parents may reconcile later, or separate, but the damage to the child is often permanent and irreversible. The harm inflicted can be so deep that it may ruin a child’s future. Being a parent doesn’t give anyone the right to emotionally wreck their child. Parents must be sensitive and responsible.

I was deeply moved by the boy’s suffering, and I feel a sense of guilt and shame for failing a wonderful young lad. Let us start realizing our role in the community, as a parent or as a responsible citizen. Please extend yourself in case you come across a troubled youngster.

Trump's 'tongue in cheek' statements

 1st August, 2025

Today, newspapers are flooded with a tongue-in-cheek statement by President Trump, calling India a "dead economy." Are such remarks impulsive outbursts, or are they calculated moves in diplomacy with long-term implications? Wasn’t it the same person who, until recently, was full of praise for the Indian economy? Were we not celebrated for being the 5th largest economy in the world, with projections to surpass a few more nations soon?

U-turns and knee-jerk reactions are perhaps best avoided in matters of foreign policy. Every word uttered by global leaders carries long-term ramifications. Such statements provoke strong emotional reactions among the citizens of the targeted country, especially for Indians when they come in the context of aligning with a nation like Pakistan, widely recognized as a breeding ground for terrorism, currently grappling with internal unrest and teetering on the brink of economic collapse.

It is, therefore, difficult to believe that this statement was politically sanctioned or diplomatically vetted before being made public.

Another striking aspect is that such a statement comes from the head of a nation whose economy significantly benefits from the contributions of the Indian diaspora. Whether in Silicon Valley, multinational corporations, medicine, hospitality, academia, R&D, or other sectors, the Indian community’s impact is undeniable.

Consider how Israel remains relatively immune to external pressure due to the unwavering loyalty of the Jewish diaspora. Now imagine if the Indian diaspora were to emotionally react to such callous and casual remarks, and start questioning their contributions in building US economy. It would certainly not bode well for the United States.

I may not be an expert in international affairs, but I do know this much that statements like these leave a bitter aftertaste.

Creative and critical thinking

 August 3, 2025

I came across an interesting video on social media that claimed Richard Branson started an airline with no money. The video explained how his creative thinking, persistence, and perseverance enabled him to achieve this. While I can’t verify the authenticity of the story, the explanation offered feels both promising and plausible.

I’m certainly not inspired to start my own airline, but it does reinforce my belief that critical and creative thinking can help you achieve almost anything. Often, we lose our way because the power of creative thinking is underestimated, overshadowed by market forces, which declares such thinking to be illusory or even delusional. Creativity often seems like it comes from a hypothetical world born of wild imagination.

Yet, the sci-fi films of the past imagined technologies and ideas that have now become reality. Today’s world is a manifestation of those creative thinkers who dared to dream. Creative and critical thinking draw power from the universe, whether through the law of attraction or simply by the force of belief.

What’s required is faith in your own thinking. Don’t question your imagination. Have patience, keep pursuing your vision, and success will eventually follow.

Trimming and Tree felling.

 August 10, 2025

Life is full of contradictions, ironies, and paradoxes. In the monsoon, the whole nation embarks on plantation drives. Saplings leave nurseries like hotcakes. It’s the time to celebrate lush greenery, when even the driest patch of land offers some foliage in homage to the rain god. An aerial view of the country during monsoon is breathtaking with a vast, vibrant green landmass. Nature is in full bloom.

Yet the irony is, we are unclear about our intentions. Do we truly want a greener planet, or is planting saplings simply fashionable? Social media erupts in applause the moment you showcase how “environment-friendly” you are. The paradox is that we plant a sapling while cutting down a mature tree at the same time.

It’s disheartening to see authorities like local government bodies, resident welfare associations, and the like, engaged in tree felling under the guise of trimming. Years of growth are destroyed in seconds on trivial and absurd pretexts: a branch might one day touch an electricity wire, it could fall on a valuable car, or grass isn’t growing beneath it. Seriously? Are these excuses even tenable? And notice, this wisdom always surfaces during the cloudy season. As soon as the monsoon sets in, we conveniently forget the wrath of the summer sun.

We fail to appreciate that India is a warm, sunny country, with eight to nine months of sunshine in most regions. Summers are so harsh that even the shade of a few leaves feels like a blessing. Yet we sacrifice vast, cooling canopies to suit our immediate whims. Boulevards are stripped bare, and if you object, you’re told, “Trees are like hair and they grow back.” Wow. What an analogy. Trees are our lungs, protect us from heat, bring rain, and sustain life for birds, animals, bees, and countless other species. They are the foundation of the life cycle. They are not comparable to hair. Trees don’t grow back in weeks, it takes generations. I would like draw everyone’s attention, we don’t ‘plant a tree’ but we ‘plant a sapling’, and for it to grow into a tree it takes a lifetime.

And please, don’t justify cutting a mature tree by claiming you’re planting saplings in its place. A sapling is never a substitute for a full-grown tree. We have already uprooted enough to endanger our species and destabilize the environment, inviting disaster.

Strict action is needed now, or we will be become a curse for the next generation. Food for thought.

AI planned tourism

August 11, 2025. 

Yesterday, I was planning my holiday with some friends. One of them politely asked, “Can I help you plan? I’ve just come back from a trip abroad, and it was extremely smooth. Everything was micro-planned like what tourist destinations to visit, what to eat, where to stay, which vehicle to board, and so on. It was hassle-free and stress-free.” I was amazed. Then he confessed that AI had planned it for him.

Wow! Doesn’t that defeat the very purpose of a holiday? Holidays are meant to explore new places and food, walk aimlessly, talk randomly with people, get exposed to new cultures, and learn and unlearn. A short holiday can give you a true picture of a place, if it remains unplanned.

I wondered what an AI-guided visit to Bhopal would be like. It would suggest established tourist spots like Bharat Bhavan, Tribal Museum, Sanchi, Bhimbetka, Boat Club, Taj-ul-Masjid, and other digitally promoted places. But visiting only such places isn’t tourism. True exploration is walking through the by-lanes of old Bhopal, climbing hilltops to see the city lights, sitting on the rocks behind Ashoka Lake View Hotel to watch the Boat Club lights reflected in the water, strolling in Ekant Park or Van Vihar, or cycling beyond the SAI Sports Academy.

Who would tell visitors that eating bhutta (corn) by Shapura Lake, chaat from the 6 No. Chaat Corner, non-vegetarian delicacies from a small shop in Bairagarh, poha and jalebi from MP Nagar kiosks, or samosa-kachori from TT Nagar New Market offers a joy you can’t imagine, and a real taste of the city’s culture?

A city looks entirely different in the quiet hours of the morning and in the lively evenings. I make it a point to walk for kilometers in the early morning when the city sleeps, then wander aimlessly in the evenings when everything is lit up. I have experienced Vienna, Venice, and many other foreign cities this way, on foot.

So, I’ve decided I will use AI only to highlight possible places to visit. But the actual trip will remain unguided and unplanned. I’ll let the locals tell me which places to explore and experience. And a humble suggestion all travelers.

Difference between a Religious preacher, a Spiritual leader, a Philsopher, a Guru and a Spiritual Guru

August 19, 2025.

During one of my travels recently, I got engaged in an avid, animated discussion with a couple of my friends, hailing from the South and North of India, making it more meaningful and diverse. The discussion was to figure out the difference between a Religious Preacher, a Spiritual Leader, a Philosopher and a Guru. It is a subject which we normally don’t discuss—or should I say avoid discussing—as you never know when you may go wrong or be wronged. We were daring to analyse some of the Babas and Gurus whom many followed, but not for their strength or expertise in certain field, but merely because they often mentioned God. The discussion, as ever, was open-ended and never concluded with any common ground. But the area of non-unanimity was very perplexing and interesting. Everyone scored equally, with vehement defense of their POVs.

Here I would reflect on my own views. There is nothing wrong or right, but my understanding and opinion about the terms and their roles.

A Religious Preacher is one who is well-versed with religious rituals and has knowledge of religious scriptures. A learned preacher would also analyze and reflect on his understanding of the scriptures. The person has to be a good orator and communicator, so that the audience understands their preaching and follows it. A religious preacher may not necessarily be spiritually evolved. A preacher may glorify the virtues of religious sermons, but may fail to live the sermonized life. Rituals without meaningful and mindful execution may not elevate one spiritually. But they owe respect for their knowledge in specific field. They can lead to ones elevation to higher level in thoughts and actions.

A Spiritual Leader is one who talks about spirituality, professes, and propagates the spiritual spirit. Again, the question remains if a spiritual leader would be spiritually evolved. Not necessarily. There is a difference between practice and preaching, between doing and discussing. A spiritual leader may talk about the path to spiritual moksha, but may have never tread upon it. He may advocate its efficacy to relieve oneself from worldly pains but still crave materialistic aggrandizement. One can meditate for hours, claim to have cleansed the body, and say to have left the body to watch it from outside, but still, in actuality, be shackled to the body, which they say is a mere vehicle of the soul in the current life, and fall prey to satiating its desires. That doesn’t mean that they are not good. They should be followed for what they are good in. For showing right direction. Valmiki became a saint for merely taking the cue.

A Philosopher is a person who tries to put logic into everything through his own philosophies. A philosopher is full of wisdom, witty, an excellent communicator, magical in words, with exemplary elocution. He gives meaning to everything, quoting others or using his own wits. But that doesn’t necessarily mean the person is spiritually evolved. Nor does it mean that they cannot be spiritually evolved. A philosopher has to be respected for their sharp analytical mind, which can encourage one to think out of the box.

Now, the Guru. A Guru is one who shows the path, helps to understand, and clears doubts. He is basically a navigator, a master in that field—though it could be any field. Guru is such a popular word that even criminals call their teachers or bosses “Guru.” The term Guru certainly doesn’t indicate spirituality.

However, when we talk about a spiritual guru, they have to be an evolved person. A spiritual guru has to be a Saint. A person who may or may not be an ardent religious practitioner can be a saint. Spiritually evolved people will never be swayed by materialistic or worldly things. They do not amass wealth to create their kingdom. They change hearts of masses. They interact with same spirit with everyone, irrespective of how influential a person is. The connection of the Guru is with higher power, with a complete realization that worldly things are temporary, mortal, and immaterial in life. When we talk about worldly things, it involves discrimination between success and failure, happiness and sorrow, love and hate, friend and foe, rich and poor, life and death. Either of these life situations does not instigate emotions in a spiritual person. Everything is looked upon with the same spirit. A spiritual guru will be bereft of any influence attached to the dichotomies mentioned above. Everything and anything, at any time, is the same for them. They remain unperturbed, uninfluenced, and impartial. They are masters of the skill of detachment in attachment, and attachment in detachment. They are for everyone, and they are for none.

Forest Bathing

 ‘Shinrin Yoku’ is a Japanese concept for forest bathing. It is a therapy using nature to cure mental and spiritual issues.

When we use the term ‘bath’ conventionally, the pictures we can imagine are of splashing water under a shower, drenching oneself by pouring a mug full of water lifted from a bucket (the majority of Indians use this method to bathe). Adventurous guys may dance under a tubewell or submerge in a pond or river to bathe. Everything is to cleanse your dirty body with water, and the latter part may include some fun component as well.

Sunbath is another concept to burn your skin for vitamin D and capture the heat on winter days. Both bathing modes have a relaxing component as well.

Forest bathing is a very interesting concept. It cleanses your mind and soul amidst nature. You do not bathe here in a conventional sense. You bathe your mind and soul in the music of wilderness, in the sound of nature, in the absence of you but the presence of everything else. The songs of birds orchestrated by the beating drums of leaves dancing to the tune of the breeze, the crushing leaves under the hooves of animals, the melody created by insects, everything drenches your spirit and soul. You bathe under the shadow of trees, the filtered sunlight, drooping drops of morning dew, the entwined branches, the harmony of togetherness of fauna and flora, the overall drawings on the canvas of wilderness. Mind it, forest bathing is not scouting for wild animals; instead, it is hunting for stillness in you. Forest bathing is therapeutic and curative. Embrace nature, and you will find the true meaning of yourself.

A beginning in Datia District

 It seems, thousand years have passed since I wrote a blog. Spent time writing novel, script, stories for web-series, but missed on writing a blog. Thoughts appeared and disappeared, came and vanished, but I failed to express here. Blog writing has been cathartic to me. It is a medium where I express unhindered, unchained and unplanned. There is no reason why I should miss this enviable space of freedom. 

A new, challenging journey has commenced in my life. On 28th Feb, 2024, I was posted as Superintendent of Police of Datia, a district in Chambal region of Madhya Pradesh, once infamous for dacoits. I joined on 29th Feb evening. What a choice of the day, a leap year day, to return only after 4 years. 

In yesterdays, the stories of this Chambal area was favourite for the film makers. Horse riding dacoits were portrayed as barbaric, robinhood and what not. Today, there are no registered dacoits anymore. However, the mindset of people remains complaining and full of vengeance. The caste polarisation is perceptible. Registering counter criminal cases to settle scores, dragging people into conflict with law, and even planning self inflicted injuries to get case registered against the opponent, sometimes leading to deaths of own kith and kin in erred planning, remains order of the day. Getting a gun license is the most coveted life goal and showcasing it in public a status symbol. Women still are denied the space they rightfully deserve. Might of the gun and muscle power rules the roost, if not literally, at least mentally. Men do not prefer their women folk to venture out and decide on their desire, hence the conflict persists. 

As a natural fallout, women issues became my primary concern. On 2nd March, I instructed all police station in-charge to give a facelift to their premises and make it perceptibly less threatening. On 4th, I verbally ordered to start women tour to police stations, so that the image and perception changes. On 8th, celebrating the International Women's day, the instruction was formalised in black and white. This took off well and continues. On 10th, recognising women's day, a programme was organised where four successful ladies shared their journey and motivated the audience, which was around 300. It was all women on the stage, and Q&A format was adopted. This kept the session engaging and spirited. This was first of its kind in Datia, I was told. Nevertheless, will these small efforts bring the desired change in the society, that I look for?

What I have learnt after working with Bedia community is that perseverance, persistence and perpetuity are the key tools to bring change in a society. These big terms do not dampen my spirit, as there is a success story of Samvedna to emulate. But what is challenging is the team that I have in Datia i.e. police personnels. 99 percent of them hail from the same area, so they carry the same mindset that I have to fight against. There is imminent need to sensitise them first. Another challenge is do away with the tradition of police to deliberately keep the community at bay, as the practical financial and psychological benefits accrued due to the trust deficit is immense and no one intends to lose that gain. 

It is not what you look at; It is how you look at it. 

It is not what you think; it is how you present . 

It is not what they like; It is how you perceive. 

Eyes and ears are shallow for they are influenced and shadowed by past experience. To learn anything, one has to unlearn first, or at least be open minded to accept a different inflow.

When we talk of change, we try to challenge the existing equilibrium. Always what looks as harmonious ambience is not necessarily beautiful from inside. Normalisation of compromise of rights cannot be always ignored on the pretext of traditionally accepted norms for generations. Era alters the need, desire, perception and equations. Current era is advocating change at a bullet speed. A small lag gets translated into a huge gap between different societies. Digital space promises to bridge that gap virtually, but in reality this transition phase is causing debilitating effect on the mind of youth, leading to confusion and frustration. 

Datia is a place, which is struggling to catch up. Due to presence of Sidh peeth of Peetambara Mai (Goddess) and Dhumavati Mai (Goddess) in Datia there is a huge inflow of elite crowd from across country. Similarly, there is are plethora of Jain temples on a small hill at Sonagir, which again attracts rich and elite Jain community from all places. But hardly this crowd stays in Datia. Jhansi, Gwalior and Orcha being close, people move out to these places to stay. Hence, the floating population does not really impact the culture of Datia, the way they should. Ratangarh is another Goddess temple of high reverence, but is considered to be flocked by rural visitors from vicinity, perpetuating the traditional mindset. 

It is too early and to be honest a manifestation of arrogance for me to claim that my observation, calculation and analysis is perfectly right. I wanted to pen down my early experience, so that at later stage I can evaluate the change in perception and any impact of my efforts during my stint here. 

An ode from a daughter to her Mother

 

An ode from a daughter to her Mother

 

                                                                                                Dr. Veerendra Mishra, IPS  

     10-08-2022

 

 

 

Ma,

 

Today on my birthday,

I remembered you in silence for two minutes,

And I was overwhelmed with unbearable sadness;

Tears in my eyes, today I realise,

you were the most innocent soul in our family,

so unappreciated,

so taken for granted,

so beautiful and so delicate.

 

Ma,

 

When I remembered you for couple of minutes on my birthday,

I found your unbridled love and fragile existence,

which was overtaken by the grandeur of our pragmatism;

After your passing,  

you were forgotten,

because all you ever had to offer was pure love and affection,

not the worldly wisdom that is unfortunately valued the most.

 

Ma,

 

love of mother is forever assumed as a right,

You were the real beating heart of the family;
I miss that all,

the taste of your finger, which I licked as a kid when you fed,

that innocent walk which I followed in my childhood,

that turned into a limp as you grew;

But, alas! as you slowed we paced ahead,

but still your love never waned

and the spectrum of benevolence endlessly spread.

 

Ma,

 

How we had two contrasting personalities at home,

two persons, completely different,

You and papa;

Both had experiences and expressions galore,

but huge rift in worldview;

there were contradictions in manifestation of affection,

even the definition of meaning of life did not match;
However, you kept afloat the spirit,

that you were there, and meant for each;

Despite the differences in personality and character,

you nourished and kept the bond intact,

without glorifying the sense of sacrifice,

or ever saying that marriage is just a compromise.

 

 

Ma,

 

Didn’t you ever desire to fly, high?

You must have certainly been frustrated,

for your clipped wings, gagged voice,

shackled legs and for being handcuffed,

but we missed to take note of your wriggle,

we never believed you had a voice, wings, legs and arms,

perhaps because you never wanted it to make evident;

You were the most underrated, undermined and marginalised;

regrettably, I realise it now when I have stepped into your shoes,

the revelation is little late,

as you are settled in your heavenly abode;

I wonder if mothers find the safest haven in the clouds,

Or they still fail to live in peace looking from there at us.

 

 

Ma,

 

I want to cry soft, cry hard,

For I want it to make it reach and resonate in the skies

and be heard by you who cried all life for us,
I want to cry my heart out

and run my tears dry;

I want my soul to be drenched in love for you,

who soaked me with unconditional, relentless love,

all throughout your existence;

Give me one chance to tell you what you meant for me,

I lost the chance in the journey of making myself,

At least let me regret in person.

 

 

Oh Ma,

 

Come over for a while,

let me tell how precious you are,

how your innocence bred my wisdom,

how your silence gave me my voice,

how your tears made me brave,

how your soft voice made me forgiving,

how your touch made me loving,

how your presence created a sense of safety,

how your aura instilled confidence,

and how your tender look gave me the grace,

I am all what you made me,

Please come and see your creation.

 

Oh Ma,

 

Let us decide how I get the second chance I yearn,

Either you come back so that I can love you as you did,

or let me come to love you there,
I am not your mirror image but certainly your shadow,

I have now taken the shape that you were once,

which a shadow always does,

But, no doubt a dark, poor replica

I am proud that what I saw in you then is what I am now,

What I detested hitherto is what I love most now,

Oh Ma, please give me a second chance,

Please come back,

Let me once hug you tight and say,

Ma, I love you and miss you all-time.

 

 

 

I am a paragon of love

 

I am a paragon of love

 

 

I am a paragon of love

Fluttering my wings joyously

Hopping from a tree to another

Flying around carelessly

Spreading affection around

Perching on branches,

playing with leaves and flowers

 

 

Nectars flow ceaselessly

I burn my tongue picking food

Hurt my throat singing loud

When I wail for any loss

my tears wash away in rain

no regrets I have for my life

for I am a paragon of love

Fluttering my wings joyously

 

 

Suddenly, I find myself caged

the life is boring and stale

I am asked to speak when I am silent

and my songs are forcefully muted

not enough space to spread my wings

My woeful cry is mistaken for a song

I am smiled at when I am in sorrow

Turned to be a puppet, tied to a string

 

 

Can’t dive to eat anything that I like

The blossom is not visible anymore

Fake life surrounds my captors

Nature is lost and unnaturally they live

Who never watched me on their balcony

Display me to the world as a trophy

I smile only when I pity them

Am sorry, now I pity them so often

 

I can see the sky once again

A pious soul bailed me out

It came in the shape of small fingers

Giggling with affection set me free

My tears rolled out with his beam

When I tried to kiss, he ran away

Pretending he did not owe me anything

 

 

Even I noticed it for the first time

That the colour of clouds changed with time

Morning and evenings are orange

Sometimes they turn grey, black and white

My love for all grew manifold

Because life is not just me but we

I want to play the role of my liberator

Create around me many more

paragons of joy and paragons of love

Why do we take life seriously?

 

Why do we take life seriously?

 

 

 

Why do we take life so seriously?

Do I have to be so serious?

That I forget the first time,

when my child enfolded his small fingers around my pinky,

It was all muscles and ligaments and no bone had shaped;

His smile churned my stomach;

His eyes met my eyes and they twitched in glory;

His baby step covered miles in distance, in life and in memory;

He threw his hands in air believing in security I never promised;

I laughed so hard when I bled with the prick from his first tooth;

Now I strain to live those days in my head.

 

 

Memories fade or get replaced,

Then he grew to be a toddler,

It was all sermon and lessons;

I was the superman and Godly for him;

He could be on top of the world, flying high on my feet;

A kiss could heal the worst of pain;

Lullaby and bedtime stories were concocted to convenience,

But they brought merry and exuberance all around;

He could sleep on my shoulder all evening,

And it never ached;

The giggle over the pranks still reverberates.

 

How did I forget?

The teenage was rebellious;

Generation gap was counted and resounded;

For him my techno skill always wanted an update;

Questions asked by me were offshoot of conservatism;

To sound liberal and up to the mark,

Compromises I made were in hundreds;

I lost my originality to showoff being original;

His teenage was my forties,

Forty was naughty or teenage more tense,

I kept guessing all the while though it made no sense.

 

Gradually life became more and more serious,

And the life became more and more forgetful;

It Intrigues me time and again,

When is it that I am living life for myself?

I have lost the smile on my face,

Easily overlook the smile on others,

and have become the reason to destroy smile of many;

Work sucked everything that was personal,

profession was to dance to the tune of bosses’ music,

passion took a backseat and instructions drove actions;

A cost that I have to pay for taking life seriously.

 

I Walk on the street mindlessly;

Fail to greet people crossing by;

Miss out on the excitement of kids playing in the vicinity,

and rallying of the pets in the park;

Never remember how many steps I walk,

as life is governed by different gadgets;

Relations are built and survived on screen;

That touch and warmth is difficult for me to recall,

For everything is played in the mind,

reality has been taken over by virtual world;

How do I undo all the misses I am experiencing?

Perhaps a cost for taking life seriously.

 

I so often miss now the fragrance of the flower in the park,

and buzzing of the bees, during my morning and evening stroll;

I have turned deaf to chirping of the birds,

and blind to their hop from one branch to another;

I forget to enjoy the vision of the embracing of clouds,

taking all shapes of imagination;

The budding of new leaves in different plants,

with a bucket full of hues of green;

Butterflies and dragon fly hovering over,

and the wasp hives clinging on the corner of the wall;

How each year I let everything pass unnoticed,

a cost for taking life seriously.

 

All time is consumed planning for future,

and ruminating about the past,

neglecting the present moment,

and living in a land of unknown,

mercilessly brutal to bliss and love,

Where togetherness is synonymous to loneliness,

Solitude is a word for depression,

Where in a crowd I find myself alone,

For none care for me but for themselves,

An ecosphere alien to one and all,

For that is the cost paid for taking life seriously.

 

Suddenly it triggered a thought process,

If life had been equally serious with me,

then my wishes would ride over the wings,

take my dreams to culmination,

aspirations would blossom into petals of red rose,

and become envy of every other flower;

ambition would be a cakewalk,

and spite of others blow away as dust in the storm;

I would love and be loved meaningfully;

When I would laugh tears would meander on the cheeks;

No expression would be shackled,

under the burden of who would think what;

It would be freedom all around,

As life would be just life,

A beautiful life as it is,

A gifted time to everyone,

Packed in surprises, all worthy to explore,

right from the childhood.

 

But, alas!

I don’t know how to not take life seriously;

For seriousness is what I have been taught,

Since I was born in this beautifully distorted world;

For what I see is what I have not to see,

And what I don’t see is what I have to believe;

For the eyes are mine, but the vision is someone else’s,

For I paint but the colours are decided by others;

Every drop of blood running in the veins,

Is directed and controlled remotely,

They get confused and lose the purpose,

And the body starts harbouring inexplicable ailments;

A cost so dearly paid for taking life seriously;

It would end with the smoke emanating,

from burning of skin and flesh,

with evaporation of blood and cracking of bones,

to be honest it would go now only with me;

I still yearn to find a learned to guide,

who can make me realize,

to take this beautiful life the way it is,

A gifted time to everyone,

Packed in surprises, all worthy to explore;

Amen!