PHYSICAL APPEARANCE- PEOPLE'S FIRST JUDGEMENT OF YOU

 PHYSICAL APPEARANCE- 
              PEOPLE'S FIRST JUDGEMENT OF YOU.

..... But, how important their judgement is?
YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE.....



G was up early. The insomniac's head was bulging with quotes he had coined through the night and his imagination had suggested a new twist in the story he was working on. He hit his desk and began working. 

The first tea came at 6:30 and two more followed at an interval of one hour each. Then, at 9:30 his wife called for the breakfast. He knew he cannot ignore it. He pressed 'Save'  and got up.
While eating breakfast, he remembered that he had to go to the bank. He had forgotten to deposit the money in his account and could not delay it anymore.

He swallowed the remaining morsels and started immediately. On the way, he saw himself in the rear view mirror. "Crumpled T-shirt, salt-and-pepper stubble, messy hair and he was wearing slippers under the track pants. "Nothing is odd," he smiled and pressed the accelerator.

Reaching the bank, he checked himself again in the  mirror. He looked tired, dishevelled and miserable. He did the only thing he could do; worked his fingers on his hair and went into the bank. He stood seventh in the queue. It did not take a long time when more people stood behind him than before him.

Two young men, just behind G were quacking nonstop since they'd arrived.  One of them had business in the bank and the other guy just accompanied him. G, out of habit, was calmly listening to the babble of the gadabouts. 

They were engineering students. Their idle talks hopped from their college to the slow bank clerk at the counter, then to the news anchor on the silenced TV mounted on the back wall. Then to the blind clerk who distributed all sorts of forms. And  then to G. 

Before the taller, bearded fellow who was not in the queue, spoke the first sentence on G, he was enjoying their conversation. The strangest part was that he spoke it in English. 

"He is here straight out of bed," the haughty young man said. It pinched G why his appearance didn't reflect his academic credentials. Nevertheless, he didn't turn his head.
"He is wearing a red shirt like six others in this room," the boy standing behind G spoke.
"It seems men acquire a sort of affinity for this colour with age," the outsider spoke. His remarks were  blunt.
"He doesn't seem poor but his lifestyle is certainly awful."
"Yeah. He doesn't dye his hair."

Every time they paused to inhale air, G resisted replying them, not intending a confrontation but just telling them that he understood English. 

"Such lazy people should go bald. That would save them some time to groom themselves."

"Yeah. Like Shakespeare's Othello."

Mention of the Shakespeare proved a spoiler.

G turned around and said, "Who told you  that Othello was bald?"

His intrusion into their discussion was  spontaneous. G too, didn't realize that he was restraining the same for a while. 
Open-mouthed, they gawked at him as if he were a ghost. Then, guilt forced their eyes change the direction. Fortunately for them, the man behind them signalled G that it was his turn at the counter.

G came out and waited for the boys. He had made up his mind to finish it off.

They seemed assured that G had disappeared when they walked out of the bank. Their guilt had vanished and they laughed shamelessly.

A tussle was going on within G between his ego and his wisdom. Should he talk to the boys and ask them to explain how and why is the appearance of a person important? 

Fighting with the dilemma, he kept looking at the boys who now, were walking away from him.  He smiled and returned home. 

COURAGE WITHOUT SANITY IS STUPIDITY

                             
            COURAGE WITHOUT SANITY IS STUPIDITY




It was on the last Sunday that I went to Mathura with my son. Due to some problem, I had to leave my car at home and travel by bus. As are the Summers in North India, it was a blazing day.
We reached the holy city after noon. The mercury was at peak. To go to our destination from the Bus Terminal, we took the tempo that seat twelve passengers. We sat on one of the middle seats with a young couple on our side and four youths opposite to us. The rear seat accommodated four other passengers.


The young men, all barely in early twenties or maybe below, had 'Gutka' in their mouths. Being on the extreme right, the hot air was roasting my face. To prevent direct exposure, I covered the side with my handkerchief.
Suddenly, the young wife, who was the only woman in the cab, slapped the youth sitting opposite to her.
'Can't you spit carefully... Twice before, droplets came to my hand,' she yelled at him after reddening his already burning cheeks.


The boy was mad and tried to return the slap that was intercepted by the husband. I screamed at the fuming boy warning him not to retaliate. The group confronted me. Their point was that she should have cautioned him after the first instance only and shouldn't have 'assaulted' their friend. The poor husband was meekly listening while I was having words with the furious boys.
The belligerent woman was unapologetic. The husband was timid. My son wanted me not to meddle in. I was concerned about the dumb but courageous woman. The cabby was indifferent and kept on driving.


Even after I told them the consequences of thrashing a woman, the youths were not ready to let it go. The cab had reached the place where I had to get down.
As I asked the cabby to halt, the boys started screaming at the woman. The husband was so frightened that he asked her wife to get down too. Rightly so, considering the rage of the boys. Poor he. I really pitied him. They had just started their life together and with such short-tempered partner, his life is going to be miserable.


The youths too, came down.
'I will call the police, if you don't go inside the cab and move away,' I sternly warned them. The other passengers told them the same thing.


The cabby speeded away as the boys re-settled. I stayed with the couple until they got another cab to go further.


No doubt, the woman was bold but, my point is that one should never forsake sanity ever so courageous he or she may be.
I am not favouring the tobacco chewing and spitting hooligans but, she should have conveyed her discomfort before taking the extreme step. Could she or her husband have contested with four young men?


Things would be ugly if I had not stepped in.


Good that women are finding voice, but it better would be better if they use their wisdom to understand when, where and how to use it.

WHEN SOLDIERS BULLIED US

           WHEN SOLDIERS BULLIED US

                                                           .......AN ANECDOTE

It was a sudden programme. The same evening, Kishore had telephoned me to tell me that Apte Sahib was conducting another Personality Development Program at Lucknow. I didn’t want to miss and decided to go.

May and June are the months of vacations. One can’t get the reservation in trains on a short notice during these months. So, we decided to travel on unreserved tickets by The Lucknow Mail.

We reached New Delhi Railway Station at 9 pm, bought tickets and waited for the train. The departure time was 10:05 pm.

We boarded the General compartment which was the last bogie in the long train and looked for seats. It was my instance of travelling in an unreserved compartment. Most of the seats were occupied by Army men; an enigma to understand how so many people reached the compartment before two young men as we were.

Ten or more people were sitting on a berth that is meant for only three people in reserved compartments. People were at all places, on the floor and also on the luggage racks. Some lone Army personnel lay on the upper berths. They refused flagrantly when somebody asked for a little space to sit.

On one of the seats could accommodate two of us. All soldiers were sitting there. They obliged us.  Not comfortable, but we had a seat and our legs could relax to attend a two-days PDP just after reaching Lucknow.

The soldiers started boozing soon after the train left New Delhi. The label ‘Sundari’ on the bottle showed that it was a cheap country made whisky. They were twelve in all; three lying on the upper berths and nine sitting on the lower berths.  There was a middle-aged person among them whom they were addressing as ‘Sir’. Their language was filthy and abusive. After an hour, high on boozing, they started harassing the passengers on the side berths. Nobody dared to retaliate. That, perhaps, didn’t interest them. They wanted a belligerent and more aggressive prey.

Another half an hour passed. Their binge-drinking was still on as was their tormenting of passengers.

The guys on the upper berth were more notorious. They would ruffle the hair of the passengers, passing by or standing near them. Seeing a woman coming, they would drop their hand in the passage, already narrowed by the standing crowd.

When a woman and her husband confronted, they thrashed him savagely. There were many other soldiers in the bogie. All collected and warned everyone against meddling in.

After that, they were in high dudgeon and asked Kishore and me to vacate the seat. We didn’t comply and ignored.

They did, again after a few minutes.

I politely replied, ‘Everybody is comfortable. Why should you have any problem?’

The ‘Sir’ among them took the lead.

‘What do you do?’ He asked, sternly.

‘He is a teacher and I am an engineer.’ Kishore answered him.

‘Really!’ He wrinkled his brows and mimed to his peers, ‘A teacher and an engineer are sitting with us.’

‘My father worked in Indian Air Force. In a way, I belong to the family of Armed Forces,’ I said, trying to influence them with my Air Force connection.

‘Another lie,’ the ‘sir’ said scornfully. He didn’t seem a fraction more cultured than others, ‘stand… at once. Vacate the seat.’

‘Have we done any wrong to you? Did we misbehave?’ I asked.

‘Dare you?’ One, sitting beside the ‘Sir’ spoke.

‘Don’t argue. Stand up or I will throw you out of the train.’ One, on the upper berth, spoke.

We stared at them controlling rage.

The soldier, sitting next to Kishore kicked him on his thigh.

Another one, hanging above, pulled my hair.

We stood up.

‘This is highly unbecoming of a soldier,’ I said.

‘Bloody bastard. Prophet! Keep that f***ing wisdom inside you. Now, I will not allow you in this compartment. Get down at Barelley or we’ll throw you out.’ The ‘Sir’ said.

We didn’t argue further. When the train stopped at Barelley, we got down and boarded in a reserved compartment. The Ticket Examiner was sympathetic; hearing our explanation he didn’t ask for a fine and issued one seat to us for a meagre two hundred rupees. He told us that it was a routine occurrence.

We completed the rest of our journey peacefully and comfortably.

Years after the incident, I feel no malice for those soldiers who I feel, were class 4 recruits.

I have seen the life of Army men closely and have utmost respect for them.

The bitterness those soldiers treated us with, was not in their culture and blood. It was due to the harsh conditions and the discriminatory environment of the armed services.

         Workplace bullying is no more or less frequent in the Army than in many                other demanding, high-stress occupations. However, when workplace bullying does occur in the armed forces, it may well be harsher and more aggressive due to the chain-of-command structure of the military. My point of recalling and sharing this bad experience here is to point out and stress the need of improving the work conditions in the armed forces.

The one-off incident can be overlooked. We do ignore occasional bad behaviours of our friends, family, parents, children and neighbours because we know that they are not bad always.

The soldiers do great a job for us civilians. We bank on them in all emergencies. They oblige us every time without complaining. They will do better when we keep them smiling.

A smiling soldier will spread more smiles than they do.

क्षण .....

कुछ क्षण
         जो बार गूंजते हैं,
                नहीं मरते,
क्योंकि  छोड़ पाये हैं,
       छाप, एक याद,
               नहीं मिटते |

वो क्षण जब,
         मुस्काती आँखें ही बोलती हों,
                  चमकती सी,
        कह जाएँ,
              इतना कुछ कि,
                        नींद भी जागी रहे,
                                    उसे सुनने को|
और सुबह भी खटखटाये,
                 किवाड़ रात के,
                               कई बार,
कि सुन ले कुछ तो|

एक शान वो भी जब,
         भीगी आँखें ही बोली हों,
                 कुछ अस्पष्ट सा कहें,
भारी हुयी पलकों से,
              पूछा भी बहुत,
                       अचानक उठकर,
क्या कहा मुझसे?
        देखा था?
                गुहार थी?
                        या शिकायत की थी?

एक क्षण, वो था जब,
         मैंने एक जीवन-प्रश्न,
               किया था तुमसे,
दाँतो में दबाकर, जबाब दिया था तुमने,
             बुझे चेहरे से जब,
                उठी थी आँखें ऊपर,
                        और न समझकर भी,
                               मैं सब कुछ समझ,
                                 मैंने को तत्पर|

और वो भी थे क्षण
          जब आशाएं जगाई तुमने,
                और तोड़ दी,
न चाहकर भी
         असहाय होने का ,
संकेत देती,
         किन्तु मेरे लिए
जीवन वाक्य बन गए हैं,
          तुम्हारे द्वारा  कहे कुछ शब्द,
मेरे हर क्षण के स्वामी हैं,
हाँ, तुम परिपक्व हो,
तभी मैं, स्तब्ध|

          गौरव शर्मा

स्वपन जागेंगे....

स्वपन जागेंगे....
आँखें जब सोने को होंगी,
स्वपन जागेंगे |
जीवन के सुरभित सौभाग्य,
 यत्न मांगेंगे |
कितनी ही इच्छाएं अंतर्मन में,
छटपटाती रहती हैं,
कितनी ही आँसु स्मृतियों में,
पछताते रहते हैं|
सब अपने लिए थोड़ा थोड़ा,
मरहम मांगेंगे,
आँखें जब सोने को होंगी,
स्वपन जागेंगे |
कई प्रश्न समय के,
अनबूझे ही रहते हैं,
क्षण भी बात अपनी,
बीतने पर ही कहते  हैं|
भविष्य के कण नए नए सम्बोधन मांगेंगे,
आँखें जब.......|
कितनी घुटी हुयी
भावनाओं को पाला है,
गिरते हुए आंसूं को,
पलकों में संभाला है|
ये भी अपने लिए नया,
एक अर्थ चाहेंगे|
आँखें जब.............|
कितनी ही चेहरे
अपनत्व की आस जगाते हैं,
स्नेह सिक्त दृष्टि से,
प्रेम की प्यास बुझाते हैं|
एकांकीपन के सहमे एहसास,
झटपट भागेंगे,
आँखें जब ...........|
बहुत से कथनों के ,
गुणात्मक अर्थ होते हैं,
भोजे न जाएँ ऐसे वाक्य,
 व्यर्थ होते हैं|
भटके शब्द अपने लिए,
आशय मांगेंगे,
आँखें जब सोने को होंगी ,
स्वपन जगेंगे,
जीवन के सुरभित सौभाग्य,
यत्ने मांगेंगे|
भवैश्य बता रहा है,
वर्तमान झूठा है|
खुशियां मत ढूँढो ,तुमसे,
भाग्य  रूठा है|
फिर भी उनके साथ नया एक,
जीवन मांगेंगे,
आँखें जब सोने को होंगी,
स्वपन जागेंगे|

क्षण

क्षण .......

हर पल के लिए,
जीवन की किताब पर,
छूटा होता है एक हाशिया...

मिट जाते हैं कभी,
और कभी अमिट छाप लिए,
वे पल छोड़ जाते हैं कई नाम,
कई टिप्पणियाँ |

भविष्य को बहाकर लाने वाले,
पृष्ठों से जब धुंधलाते हैं,
अतीत को, तब भी,
स्पष्ट सा दिखता है कुछ,
कुछ क्षण,
कुछ नामों की अर्थी लिए,
बन जाते हैं याद,
भविष्य को ढकती परछाईयाँ|

उस हाशिये पर,
कुछ हलके नाम भी हैं,
जो समय में बहते आये,
पर न ठहरे,
जीवन की किताब पर,
छोड़ न सके कोई निशाँ|
फिर भी दीखते  हैं,
कहते हैं,
टूटे सपने जब
आंसुओं में बहते हैं ,
गूंजती हैं तब,
उन क्षणों से जुडी कहानियाँ|
अब भी ये पल,
वर्तमान के ,
लिए हुए हाशिये,
बिना किसी नाम के,
टिप्पणियों से सजे हुए,
इतराते हैं यूँ ही|
पर समांतर पंक्तियों में है,
ज़िक्र पुराने नामों का,
हर क्षण फुसफुसाता है,
नए नाम भी यही लाएंगे,
सोचता हूँ क्या खेल रचा रहे हैं?
आने वाला सभी  पल क्यों,
अतीत की है कठपुतलियां?
      ---गौरव शर्मा

WHY I LOVE AIR FORCE?

Why I Love Air Force

‘Sky asks the cloud, ‘Dear, what you love the most?

‘Is it the chromatic rainbow, or the bird I host?’

‘No’ replied the cloud ‘beauty is noble and gracious,

I like my pals to be a vagabond, arrogant and dexterous.’

Fighter planes are the ones who match my thunder’

We care, revive and secure the mankind under,

I shower rains helping the soil, getting pregnant,

They drop bombs to wipe off the assailants.’

Ask teenagers, what they want out of their lives and you can vouch for answers to be-Status and wealth, with reluctant additions such as integrity, perseverance, pride and dignity and enthusiastic utterance of ‘thrill’ and ‘adventure’ as topping. However, when they look up to their guardians for guiding them through to get all these, seldom are they told to join the Air Force.

A simple and realistic way of seeing all aspirations coming true is to serve the Air Force with a bonanza carrying distinction of serving the motherland that would, ultimately provides the greatest satisfaction. The best thing one can do is to defend his country.

We can buy the most expensive clothes with the riches, but believe me, heaps of diamonds and suitcases filled with currency notes will be insufficient to get the feel of pride and dignity the uniform of a soldier facilitates.

It just asks you to cultivate the readiness to sacrifice and to consider the country before yourself.

Michael P. Anderson has said “If you want something that’s going to provide you with a lot of challenges and a variety of different things to do, then you really can’t beat a place like the Air Force. I don’t mean this to sound like a recruiting pitch, but it’s been a lot of fun”

Fighter planes are the most sophisticated man-driven automobiles. One can be a professional pilot without joining the Air Force but won’t you be a mere ‘driver’ carrying passengers here and there? And to sit in that cockpit will become a delusive and distant dream for ever.

The training and courses, one has to go through to become a pilot, normally cost a lot. But in Air Force, you don’t have to spend money for it; just a burning desire would suffice.

I haven’t seen a mortal, not applauding a somersaulting, squirming, maneuvering and formation displaying jet. The roaring and threatening device even compel you to brave the glares of the sun. I always fancy the imagination of seeing myself occupying the cockpit of a hunter and playing hide and seek with the clouds in the sky and the amazed spectators applauding me.

I don’t want to see my compatriots scarifying dreams or to settle for less, but if someone’s circumstances force him to earn after school, I see Air Force as the best job option. No organization gives such handsome remunerations to raw intermediates. The most favorable part is the working hours- you can study further and go for commissioning after improving your credentials.

Metamorphosis from a raw recruit to a prepared, confident and masculine Airman in a real sense might not be easy but it is less difficult than a civilian normally goes through to become equally deserving.

If not me, somebody else will come forth; after all, our country is not short of people. Air Force doesn’t really need us. We need to find out where we fit in it.

It offers variety of jobs-both in technical and non-technical grades. We can be a fighter pilot, which is the most respected trade among all armed forces or a paratrooper or a doctor in the Air Force and even clerks can find a life in it.

The Air Force offers lifetime medical facilities, Job security, travel opportunities, Pension and the most glamorous side is the Rank that remains with us for the rest of our lives. The Chevrons and the Strips are great intoxicants. They give you distinct identity, dignity and pride.

So if you have the courage and desire to test yourself against the spur of difficulty, if you want to brave the storm, if you want the vast sky to bow in front of you and allow you to wander across its expanse, the Air Force is the place for you.

The Air Force invites you to have a spectacular life-and Hey! You always have a choice to quit.

"तुम बिल्कुल वैसी हो"

An Anecdote

An Anecdote

I was commuting from Mumbai to Delhi. The Rajdhani departed at 9:30 from Mumbai and nobody was really interested to check the faces, ages of the fellow passengers in the compartment and retired soon. In the compartment, in front, a hermit like gentleman in dhoti kurta, long untrimmed beard and hair was the most noticeable person. Rest three were young men who chatted until late loudly and ill-mannerly.

        The train galloped towards its destination so as the night. I woke up when the train was standing at Ratlam station. It was still very early but the sage was doing Yoga sitting on his berth.

Until 8, it was typical morning environment in the bogie-rush near the lavatories, the salient tone of the tea vendors and the breakfast servers and the laughter and disturbing chitchat of the three youths.

They were making fun of the elderly sage and asked him his introduction.

The man told that he was a musician and was travelling to Mathura. The musician seemed to understand the latent mockery behind all the queries asked and was well reading their sarcastic smiles.

People kept coming to pay him short visits from other bogies and provided more fun to the uncultured youths.

The train was about to reach Mathura. The sage’s disciples came again and crowded the bogie.

Mathura station appeared more congested than any other station. Hundreds of people were standing there with garlands in their hands.

The sage stood up to get down. The young men did not spare him to have last jest at him ‘going Swamiji, hope you enjoyed our company?’

Swamiji smiled ‘Yes, it is my destination. I enjoyed a lot with you and want to quote some lines for you-

 “यहाँ बुरों का भला नहीं होता,

यहाँ भालों का बुरा नहीं होता,

बरसों मौसम के मिज़ाज़ सहता है,

पेड़ यूँ ही बड़ा नहीं होता...” Said the sage and forwarded towards the bogie gate.

In no time, I and everybody else had known that the claque had gathered at the station to welcome the musician.

I don’t know who he was but the four lines he recited and the dignity and patience with which he tolerated the indecency of his co-passengers left an everlasting mark on my memory.