Always wrong- the Left

Yeah they are the worst because they are more educated than the rest and they use that very intellectual depth and their wisdom to fool the mass. The look on their face when they speak emotes as if they would be the first to sacrifice if anything bad is to befall on this country.

When 76 jawans in Chhattisgarh died the Leftist took out a candle light procession in JNU to express their pleasure. During the previous government on one hand they were supporting the UPA and on the other they were crying foul over the nuclear bill.

Yet they didn't have the conviction to withdraw the support because then they would have lost the power that they had managed to secure after such a long while.

If a particular party is continuously ruling over a state for the past 25 years you expect that the state will have reached a respectable level of development, but thats not the case with West Bengal. Its still lying in the bottom six.

My Leftist friends will say that inspite and despite this, its the Left thats winning in Bengal, again and agian.

And I would say that they are still winning in West Bengal because of their notorious cadre strength, which is so famously prone to physical violence.

They swear by Dass Kapital and yet any journalist or politician will tell you that they are the most wealthiest of the lot. They own a stake in Star News, and most of them have huge farm houses in Mussorie.

Left is a place where the intellectuals suppressed seek a sanctuary , a place where their shits and rubbish is proclaimed as a policy. Like supporting China and showing thumbs down to US. They are the worst hypocrites, living lavishly and strolling in kurtas.

Reading Penguin books, speaking Oxford English, always trying to go against what the others are doing, just to prove that you are different is not very difficult, but implementing the words into action is not so easy, specially if you lack the moral conviction.

Many great minds, economists and writers have wasted their talent by joining Left in fighting what they call fighting the corrupt system. But they have been fooled. The Left is a bastion of the corrupts who play sage.

They just oppose for the heck of opposing.Fools they are, and fools they will remain.

Congress and BJP too are bad but atleast they do what they say. Even if they fulfill 40 percent of their promise of they make, but the leftist are the scourge of the nation and their thinking is destroying talented minds of this country.

Someone who is supporting them should think about what the Communist have achieved. They call themselves the champion of poor but they are exactly the opposite.

They are the worst, the Left.

A Gharghoda of mines and elephants

Corruption and pollution is something that we come across regularly in our life. Be it a small village or a large town and be it Mumbai or Gharghoda every place has come to terms with its share of the “ion” .

Situated in the industrial belt of Raigarh, which should be more appropriately called Jindalgarh, because of the huge infrastructural presence of Jindal company, Gharghoda is the oldest block of undivided MP and Chhattisgarh, coming into existence in 1928.

If Raigarh is famous for Jindal, Gharghoda is famous for two things, wild elephants and coal reserves.

My uncle who stays in the hills of Uttarakhad had not heard about Raigarh before, but when I told him that I will be staying in Gharghoda, he promptly quipped, “Ahh! Gharghoda, the land of the wild elephants.”

Wild elephants are always in news in this part of this world. Mostly for wrong reasons. Some fifteen days back, one women who had gone to collect Mahua seed was trampled by a tusker. Similarly, while travelling to Raigarh on bus, I had the wonderful experience of being stuck in a traffic jam as the highway was blocked by a herd of elephants who were taking a merry stroll on the road.

To look after the elephants we have the forest department people and they are doing a good job of protecting both the elephants and the civilians from each other. They are very prompt in giving compensation in case of causality due to elephants. So everything is fine on that front.

They are also active when it comes to stopping illegal tree felling, of which I have already given a graphical description in my previous post. So far so good.

But the problem arises when Coal comes into the picture.

Due to coal mining, both legal and illegal, forest cover is being vastly reduced, leading to a sharp increase in man-elephant conflict. The elephants are regularly entering villages and destroying crops and huts because their habitat is shrinking.

To combat this the forest department is investing huge amount of money in increasing the forest cover by planting saplings, but its effort is being bearing little result as more and more forest are being cut to pave way for mines.

Strange paradox, isn’t it. One government department in giving money to increase the forest cover, while the other is giving permission to cut those very trees.

Stand at the local Jai Stambh chowk of Gahrghoda and you will come across many huge trailers that are carrying coals and transporting them to the numerous coal power plant near Raigarh. And most of them are illegally mined. And as is very common in our country, this is happening right under the eyes of the law as not more than 200 meters from the Jai Stambh chowk is the local police station.

The coal is mined from the many a nearby areas and as they make their way to smoke emitting coal plants they have to pass through many a check posts. And rarely have I come across a trailer being stopped for overloading and carrying illegal coal. Most of the trailers are filled more than their capacity and the chance of these huge machines losing control and playing havoc on the street is as much as you and I getting drenched in a rain if we are not carrying an umbrella.

Once in a full moon, a trailer is caught and its details are promptly published in the local Hindi newspapers. Most of the trailers are owned by one of the many big companies like Jindal.

Also having their hands full in this trade are relatively small businessmen who have come from outside and have been wise enough to purchase lands from the local villagers at throw away price and setup their business.

And this is just the beginning. Gharghoda is still a ripe bud when it comes to coal mining. Many new plants are coming up and by 2015, this place will be at its full bloom. When the clean air and green tress will be replaced by carbon monoxide and steel chimneys and when the “Saagun made Belgadi” will give way to “Mahindra Scorpios” and when the local man who walks in cotton loins will purchase a Levis.

May not sound true today, but then Noida is no myth.

Equally true is the fact that these coal consuming factories have taken the necessary permission from the environmental authorities and other concerned authorities before coming up, so they are not to be blamed.

Again a paradox that infects our system.

We allow a factory to discharge toxic waste into the river and then we come up with an authority to clean that very river.

The emission and pollution controlling authority says that they see to it that every thing is done under supervision and Regulation. Sounds just like a holocaust, where they killed selectively, under supervision and in a regulated manner.

I may look like that I from the old age, a Swadeshi, an Opposer of industrialization. Believe me I am not, but what I say here is what is I see here.

The rapid industrialization has brought lakhs of rupees for the local tribes which they have received after selling their land to coal companies. And they simply do not know what to do with it. And some of them lament that times are changing as they feel insecure when they see their neighbour living a life that is more lavish then what they are accustomed to. They don’t know how to face this disparity.

The social fabric is being rewoven in this part of the world as money is pulling someone up and pushing many of them down.

I though draw solace from the fact that I won’t be staying her for long. I will leave way before any of these rivers and trees and green leaves this place, affectionately called GG. And though I may come back , they will not.

Mussorie tale

I have been to many a place where I have only felt love and nothing else.

Mussorie ranks high on that very list. Some times back I went to Mussorie, and it was one of those memorable journey which you remember till you say the final goodbye to the world.

Absolute bliss it was. I stayed at the DRDO guest house, courtesy my ever jovial and lovable uncle, KK, who is perhaps more romantic at heart than me. The DRDO guest house is one of the highest residential place in Mussorie where you can stay. And if you go there at the time of monsoon , you will loose your breath again and again by the sheer simple beauty of that place,which is also called Landour cantt area near the famous Lal Tibba.

From there you can watch the exhilarating view of the majestic Himalayas as it white snow covered peak stare at you in a gentle silence. You can also hear the sound of Himalayan Langurs giving out their mating call which is heard for kilometers. You can watch beautiful Kumaoni girls with red cheeks and a mystifying smile climbing the high hills as if they are walking on plains. Or you can just close your eyes and feel the nature outside as it embraces you.

The beauty of a natural place is enhanced if it has legends and myths associated with it. And in the case of Mussorie, it has many a tales. Some haunting, some not so haunting. Stories of Memsaabs and Sirs that took place during the ear of Raj. The British Raj.

One night after having my dinner at the guest house, I came out and started taking a stroll down towards Lal Tibba. As I was walking, I heard some kind of chanting that was coming from a far distance. It was kind of mesmerizing and I climbed a rock to get a better view of the spot from where the sound was coming. And not too far away, in the middle of deep forest , I saw some foreigners carrying Mashals( torch light), as they danced in a circle and sang songs.

Standing at an elevated position i could only see their body under the faint light of the torch that they were holding. It was something that is hard to explain in words. Dark foggy cold night and people singing ancient hymns. It was an out of world experience. God knows how desperately how I wanted to be a part of that group who was enjoying life in its fullest terms.

Mussorie is home to many a legends. Ruskin bond, the great writer is one of them. And thanks to my uncle, I got the opportunity to meet him once. He is the most well known Mussorian and has written many books on Mussorie. A true gentleman. Also if are fortunate enough you can watch the towering Tom Alter sipping coffee at the historical Char Dukan.

If you are in Mussoire you have to go to 4 dukan. They are 4 small shops, located in the heart of Landour, where you find the most mouth watering pakodas and a highly recommended tea. There you can sit, chit chat with the local and the foreigners, watch small pahadi children going to school or just simply watch the sun rising or going down as the time maybe.

Please keep in mind that when I am saying Mussorie, I am implying, the area near the Landour cantt and not the over crowded mall road of Mussorie.

The Landour area is a magic in itself. The climb from the guest house on the gravelled path, surrounded by lush green forest comprising many a tall trees, mostly Pine. The ever present fear that if you are lucky enough you might come across a leopard, who too like you , is enjoying the clouds, that have stopped for few hours to cuddle you in their cold moist arms.

The Landour cantt area also has a language school that is more than 200 years old. Here foreign student come and learn Hindi. This very language school is adjoining a church, which in itself is a marvellous example of a serene construction.

Mussorie gives all this experience for free but in return you will have to promise that you won’t disturb anything. Not pluck the flowers, not harm the butterflies or the trees, not litter the place. And most importantly keep a smile on your face whenever you come across a marvel of nature, be it a tree,animal, clouds, fog or a human being.

The term, love is in the air is literally felt by our soul in Mussorie in no small way. If you are in love or thinking of falling in love go to Mussorie. It has an unexplainable lucky charm that will work for you and this I say on a personal experience.

Mussorie enlightens love in heart...

Iraq - a tale of hope

Finding an Indian in Iraq is no exception, but to find someone who is optimistic and happy is. Living in Iraq is hardly comfortable. Infact you can term it as a living on the edge kind of scenario. It’s a bit hard to experience it in words. Bullets passing by, land mines exploding, cars going turtles right in front of your eyes can make even the coldest of heart miss a beat.

There are according to official figures more than then thousand Indians here. Most of them are doing jobs that can be very easily classified as high threat work. Under the umbrella of darkness, in the middle of a desert, supported by gun totting UN soldiers distinguished by their blue helmet, people like Ram Sharan and Avinash Gupta are braving their only life so that they can earn enough for their family back home and in the process they are doing their job of connecting interiors lawless land of Mesopatamia to the main land of Baghdad.

Some fifteen days back three Indians and four Pakistani nationals were shot dead and then beheaded by suspected members of Al-Qayda. Back in India and Pakistan we might make a distinction between the two nations but in this part a greater insanely hate very easily consumes this very difference that has disrupted the life of both the countries for decades. They both had common friends and when their body was being sent to their respective country, tears that were rolling down too didn’t made any distinction. They were for the Indian as well for the men from Pakistan.

Such is life.

In this part of globe even the bare basic needs of life jumps the fence and becomes a luxury. You will be more than fortunate if you are able to eat more than once in a day and I am not talking about the local, even us, the so called war journalists have to undergo the same fate.

The sun burnt skin of a 8 year old boy, a perpetual quizzed look in his eyes and the pain in his voice when he seeks her now dead mother is the only reason that brings moistness of any kind. Otherwise everything is dry and parched. Hard we may try but the eyes always fail to hide ones emotion.

Hope is a fast disappearing entity here. And I have never experienced such situation anywhere else. People have simply lost hope and those few who have it are now trying to keep it going on until a stray bullet takes that away; along with their life.

The lonely silent as you pass through village after village who were once bustling center where eyes would meet and an accidental stare would turn into an attentive gaze., a place where flour and cakes and balloons were purchased to celebrate birthdays have now become lifeless. All I could see was some slippers and some rags and more blood.

I stop at a house which shows some activity of human presence and I am welcomed by a feeble old man , whose eyes have a unexplainable twinkle, something that makes my spirit soar high .

He goes by the name of Hussein and is the only surviving member of his family. The rest have migrated to Persia and are living happily. He has lived in Iraq since he first clutched his fathers finger when he learnt to walk and he has no fear of anything, only a feeling that who will look after his goat when he is gone . With closed eyes he says that he was born in this soil and will disappear in this soil, a soil that has become red.

All sorts of media is here and countless stories have been told to world about Iraq. When it was Saddam it was he who hogged the limelight and now when he is gone Suicibde bombing and senseless killings make the headline. Blood flowed then too and it has not stopped even now. Only the hands have changed, the bullets are the same and same are those who die.

It is not a war between America and Iraq or Muslims and Christians or Shia and Sunni that have taken lives. They are just excuses, for humans to kill another human,

I desperately seek love to heal my soul that has never been so deeply wounded before. Anything, any love story would do. But there is none. And even if there is, no one is alive to share it with me. I read about Iraq when I was a child. I use to see it as a land of Heer Ranjha. Alladin Jasmine. But it seems like my characters, they too were work of fiction.

Moving ahead as I reach Baghdad I am pleasantly surprised to see a turban wearing sikh who is dancing on Sukhbir and with him are some locals who too are matching their feet with the tall sardar.

The lanky guy is from Bhatinda and runs a grocery store here and plans to stay here till the Indian contingent of Engineers are here. He tells me that everything will change for good; that is inevitable. It changed in Punjab , and it will change here. And he nods his head in yes when I ask him whether he will take good memories of Iraq when he goes back to India.

Then he puts the same question to me.

I say yes; to his invitation to dance too.

Oh Bhopal- II

Mockery of justice was again seen in my country when the judicial pronouncement for the Bhopal gas tragedy was announced .

Digest this , after over 25 years, eight people were convicted for the world's worst industrial disaster and sentenced to two years in prison. One of them died during the course of the trial. The other seven were granted bail. About 20,000 people were killed in the Bhopal gas tragedy of December 2-3, 1984.

The iconic picture of a child, whose face is only visible became the pictorial signature of that unfortunate night and was clicked by photojournalist Pablo Bartholomew. And he too was heartbroken when he heard about the “too little too late” judgement.

Thousands and thousands like him, people from every sphere of life, activists, common man, students, and farmers too are going through a mixture of varied emotions. Anger, pity , apathy, helplessness, but deep inside they have accepted the fact that what has been done is done and nothing can be achieved more. Those who died they cannot be brought back. They simply won’t come back.

This resignation to the situation doesn’t develop overnight, it comes with age and it comes when such incidents happen again and again and still things remain the same. Same politicians ranting, accusing each other, same ways of protest, changing facebook profile picture, showing compassion through status message, forwarding sms . Even the media doesn’t do much. Same channel, same talk show, same gestures, high pitch voices. My earlier post and rants on Bhopal gas leak can be found here.

This helplessness and the feeling alike is not against Bhopal gas tragedy. It has a much deep rooted origin. It is against the whole system.

This has developed through time. When Godhra happened, when violence in Maharastra took place, when hundreds died in a train accident and the railway minister said that it was all related to a political conspiracy to malign her, when a man who should have been hanged long back is kept alive all in the name of minority appeasement, such unique yet identical incidents give birth to this feeling of apathy and helplessness.

Meanwhile political games have already begun.

Congress leaders are in a huddle so as to whom to make a scapegoat. Was it the CM, the PM or a mixture of both that made a way for Anderson to flee India. Not too far, BJP is in another huddle, devising out ways in Patna, where its national executive meet is going on and in Bhopal on how to push the Congress further into a corner.

Then there is a former Supreme court judge who says that he did not commit any mistake by agreeing to head a multi million dollar trust set up by the union carbide after the tragic gas leak.

The same judge in 1996 converted the CBI charge under the stringent provisions of 304-II that provided for maximum of 10-year imprisonment to Section with two-year maximum imprisonment and reduced the charge of culpable homicide not amounting to murder to causing death by negligence.

Clearly the law didn’t take its natural course. But then it would have been naive for anyone to even expect that it will, such was the nature of this high case. Much more than anyone could make out was and is at stake.

In the end what matters is, those who have survived they should be looked after. Those who died, they are not alive, they don’t need any attention but the survivors do. The best way to remember the unfortunate dead would be to make sure that those who survived don't die a painful death. Those who will be born with deformities and weak immune system they will need money and resources to live a life that will be far away from normal. 

Yet since they have life they will have to survive, with or without government help.

Forget Anderson, forget who drove him to the airport, ignore who called whom to arrange for his departure. But let’s not forget those who need life and support. Help them and you will be helping those who died on that night for no purpose. Many of them were sleeping and most of them never woke up again.

Bhopal lost something on the night of December 3, 1984 and nothing but time will heal those wounds that have been felt by generations and will be experienced by many more to come...

Also at http://desicritics.org/2010/06/13/164400.php

Patna diary

I

Congressi politicians are facing harrowing time, not because of the scorching summer heat but rather its the political heat generated by their own colleagues that has kept some of them on their toes.

The caste based census issue is something that has wedged a deep divide between the political class in between the UPA itself. As can be read, even the intra party members of Congress are looking north and seeking south. Check Ajay Maken's blog on http://ajaymakenthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/letter-to-all-young-mps-on-caste-based.html#comments to find how atleast some of the politicians are not behaving like political opportunist.

Then there is the issue of naxalism on which Congress is divided; again. Digvijay Singh feels that they are mislead ideologues while Chidambaram feels that they are nothing but terrorists.

Then it was Mr.Tharoor who was confused between what he wanted to be. Whether a loyal lover, a dedicated politican or a chirpy twittu. Well he was not even sure that why was he made a minister or why did he come to India in the first place. But as things ended the way it did, he must be a relieved man. Mr.Tharoor, you are still miles away from the honesty (pun intended) that is required from a person to succeed as a political entity in this part of the globe.

Another maverick, Jariram Ramesh had to say sorry to the Prime Minister when he openly criticized Chidambaram for his dealing of India's international relation with China.

Manmohan Singh is literally rocking on how to deal with the naxalites. Should he follow Sonia Gandhi or tow his trusted lieutenant Chidambaram. Whom should be fix the blame on for the recent train mishap? Should he agree with the Railway Minister, Mamta Banarjee who says that it is a political conspiracy to malign her or nod his head by going with the cops and say it was the maoist.

Couldn't stop humming Koi rasta to dikha...khuda ke liye....

II

It is not that only on the national level our political structure is showing signs of going haywire. At a more local front, in Bihar too things are not looking good.

Recently a police officer was appointed as Bikramganj DSP. That shouldn't have made the news, because routine transfers seldom evoke curiosity but in the present case , the newly appointed officer is himself on the run from the police. Even before he could assume charge as Bikramganj DSP, a police team from the district police headquarters was sent to arrest him.

The concerned officer who was earlier attached with STF, Avinash Prasad,is wanted by police in connection with a criminal case for last two months and an arrest order against him is pending in the court of law.

About 2 weeks earlier in a similar sort of comical yet serious incident, which raised fingers on the Policing situation in the state, Bihar Human Rights Commission (BHRC) ordered the state government to pay Rs 40,000 each as compensation to ten persons who were jailed on fabricated charges of murder and kidnapping in two separate cases. The commission has also recommended appropriate action against the then SPs who had submitted a false report.

Again nothing new as such incidents do happen in our country, but what has made this incident serious is the fact that in its reply before the SHRC, the police department said that it was because of the "pressure" on the SP to come out with a result soon due to submission of a representation by the kin of the supposed dead victims in the chief minister's Janata darbar, that led to the gross error on the part of the officers, which included a young IPS probationer.

Bihar Chief minister is undertaking a "Vishwas Yatra" of the state so as to prepare for the state assembly elections that are due soon. Speaking in front of the mass, Nitish is bringing out the achievements of his government, but hard he tries, he is not able to say how he has been time and again let down by his subordinates. The biggest let down was couple of years back when Kosi breached its bank and his officers were caught napping. What happened afterwards is a painful history.

He has a reputation for being upright and high on discipline but that qualities are not channeling down to the lower level. His efforts to put Bihar back on tracks have been successful, albeit, if he got more cooperation of his support staff of government employees the result would have been far better.

Nitish Kumar has all through the last four and a half years focused on Good governance but as the political finale approaches, it seems the state has not progressed much on that front. Corruption has not come down inspite of the fact that a proactive approach was adopted to tackle this disease, including setting up of fast track courts.

The various state departments in Bihar are still to come out of the 'high' that the previous regime gave them. They still feel that they have every right to prolong and unnecessarily delay work of the common men. They still believe that bribe is a part of their salary.

For their routine work they expect that they will be offered cash. And believe me, antics adopted in MunnaBhai won't work here.

I personally had this experience of being asked for bribe for a legitimate act when my cousin who is seeking job of his father on compensatory ground was asked for money in return for moving his file ahead. Not going into the details, a feeling of anguish comes when you think that how can these people be so senseless and shameful. And you feel bad when you think that how will those thousands of illiterate people who have no one to lean on will arrange for ten thousand rupees to join a job which is their legitimate right and whose monthly salary is maybe four thousand rupees.

Losing hope is very easy and to rekindle it is herculean. And right now, after going through the many a such shattering experiences time and again, I am moving towards the easier approach.

It will be easy to change Bihar, but not so easy to change the people here, who for years have lived on situations that have eaten away some of very basic human tendencies.

But then Hope dies when you let it die...just like love.And I am not very good at letting things die.

Prologue

This pages of words is not about a love story between college students, or a tale of a boy from a rural village making big in the urban jungle. Maybe it is about my life, maybe it is about your life and of everyone like us. Of girls and dope, of valentines and kingfisher, of school and college days and the tantrums of heart.

There comes a time in life when we arrive at a juncture, where we start looking back at ‘those’ days of yester years. It’s during these days that we start talking about the past, because at that time we believe that we have seen enough days of life so to go back into the past. At least thats what happened with me. I started going back into the past tales of school uniforms, teachers and lunch break when I was saying present sir to my lecturers and attending what they call lectures.

Well, while keying words in my laptop I frankly have no idea whether I will be able to complete this ­­–­­­­book. Book ? Who said anything about a book. Ok ok..I am writing a book or at least that’s what I think I am doing and this is the first page of that very book. I don’t know till how many pages will my mind walk by my side on this and whether this collective stroll will be enough to bring out a collection of tales that will be enough to say that yes, I am a proud owner of a book that I myself wrote.

It is said that humans are creature of emotions rather than logic, and believe me, I have experienced this facts umpteen time, and I believe that it’s better to be governed by emotions than logic. Perhaps you will come across incidents as you turn the pages which might baffle you, but look closely, you too might have acted the same way.

Emotions maybe very erratic in nature but they are uniform too. It is a strange paradox but I find it true.

Why does a girl unflinchingly loves a boy and continues to love him even when she knows that chances of going along with him is around 98 million light years far. Why does a person in spite being betrayed by his or her love interest still wishes that miracles happen, people change and a similar miracle will happen and they will be together again.

Why is that suddenly you realize that times and people have drifted away. and you ponder when was the last time that you and your closest group of friends met, did nothing, sat for hours and when they left for home you didn’t realize that it was those hours of time that constitute a great life.

Sometimes the sms forwards do carry some sensible messages.

There will be lots of love here. People say that you can fall in love only once. And I humbly disagree. You can fall in love many times either with the same person or some one different. But when you are loving someone then you should love her or him only. Commitment and dedication should be for that person only. I have come across people who were in a great relationships for years and years and suddenly they go their different way because they breakup. And then they fall in love again, with someone different. And they completely forget their ex.

That doesn't mean that they are heartless. Love was then too and love is present now also.

Love is something that makes everything around us beautiful. When in Love, it is the god himself that manifests in you.

The greatest of emotions that a human being has is the gift of love and hope. And with that hope I start something new that will lead to finding the love of my life.

The usual disclaimer doesn’t apply. There are names here and they bear resemblance to living person. So if you find your name among the lines or think that you resemble the character, then in all heavens, you are right.

I may change some names, especially of girls, because they might now be attending to their kids and hubby and to their new found love, but I will make no effort to hide their characteristic so that when they read this they know that it is about them. Tribute to love comes in many ways.

Of my close friends, I know they are large hearted and they won’t mind if I use their actual name, infact I think they will relish it, when their deep dark secrets see the light of the day. I hope I am able to scandalize you enough guys. You deserve it guys...every bit of it, because if it was not for you all then nothing worthwhile to write would have come up.

Lets start from Bhopal, as someone rightly said, “You're biased towards this city.” And I know that she is so true...

The girl on a moving train

The girl on a moving train

leaving a city poor as she moves to the next

the darkness outside matched by her black eyes

and a white moon that shies away due to her sparkling smile

a blue scarf that makes her appear more reddish

a white strap on her hand

and a lone colorful bangle to make the rainbow complete

songs of birds and of a silent night

are no match for her sweet voice

a casual look turns into an attentive stare

among the moments of attraction that looks to seek through

I watch silently as she speaks of her peaceful life

and of her vivacious life, of her hope and of her dream

and listens my tales of small cities and younger childhood days

the silence of something amiss

of something not the same

of something less than love

the strangeness that comes after the sudden familiarity

and the eager shyness to seek attention

maybe we will meet again

maybe she would not be the same again

neither would i be amazed to see her again

among the countless moments of aimless affection

As we chased some timber thieves...

It was another night of the Gharghodan safari that I have become so accustomed to. And whenever it happens, something more exciting than the previous incidents comes up.

This happened yesterday night. And what night it was. It was already past 11.00 and there was no electricity for the past 3 hours and the local people told me that this darkness was here to stay for 2-3 more hours as there was a major fault in the transmission lines.

So Mr.X , my neighbour and a very efficient forest guard and me decided to go the forest on a night patrol so as to maybe see some wild animals who like us would come out of their residents to escape the heat. We hopped into the Sarkari bolero along with 3 more of the guards and started .

The night sky was full of small stars, some shining more brightly than the others and some playing the game of hide and seek. After a 30 minutes drive we were deep inside the forest and came across a pond, the very kind of spot where you can lie down for few hours, feel the cool breeze and close your eyes to every conceivable thought.

And that was what we did. I found myself a comfortable huge rock to settle down and my co-travellers were lost in their talks of jokes and obscenities I found myself wondering among the dark night and the clear sky. The surrounding was peaceful with the occasional sounds of a curious cricket and a fish that was coming on the surface and diving back agaian. My eyelids became heavy and I slept off.

The half an hour sleep was broken by the frog like voice of one of the guards who said that its time we move ahead on our patrol. And we were back in our car again.

The rickety bolero was moving at a gentle pace on the village road made up of mud and gravel. The excitement inside me was losing its steam as we had not come across any animal and I looked at my cellphone for the non existent network and it dawned on me that it was already 12.30 and still we were deep inside the forest.

II

As we were moving ahead we saw head light of a two wheeler coming from the opposite direction and I don’t know how but maybe because of some instinct that comes with years of service the guards sitting in the back side became excited. There were three people on the motorcycle and as we crossed each other they looked at us. And we knew something was wrong.

After just one minute , we saw a tractor coming with its head light switched off. Just as we came parallel to each other our driver shouted “sahab Lakdi” ( sir, Wood) . And instantly my mind told me that it was going to be a long night.

The Bolero which until then could give a LOL syndrome to a cycle wala suddenly became possessed as our driver, a young guy of maybe 17-18 years became a local Chhattisgarhi Narayan Karthikeyen as we started chasing the tractor which was moving far from us.

I tightly held on to the side support of the car as it jumped and raced on the muddy tracks like a forest mice. The headlights of our car was illuminating the tractor that was moving farther and farther ahead of us and I was able to see the outline of the 4 bodies who were sitting on the log and like us were holding on to their dear lives.

The guards sitting behind me were shouting all kinds of obscenities on top of their voice asking the tractor driver to stop. But it was proving to be an unfruitful attempt , their idea behind this was to somehow play on the nerves of the tractor driver so much that he collides his vehicle with a tree or slips of the road.

Let me picture the scenario for you so it becomes a bit easy to see what was actually going on.

Moonless night, a Kucha road, a tractor that is moving ahead like a mad elephant rumbling through the peaceful forest, a white official chhattisgarh forest department bolero that is chasing the wood smugglers and inside that bolero is a guy who is mind you not a forest employee, and behind him are 4 more hyper excited people who were raining a barrage of assorted words.

The low on profile but high on risk chase went on for 10-15 minutes and as we came near to the tractor, we saw a hamlet that we presumed was the original destination of the driver.

On the outskirts of the village, the same people whom we had come across earlier on bike were waiting and soon as they saw us they turned left so as to confuse us and force us to follow them rather than the tractor which had turned right and vanished out of our sight.

No one fell for the bait, as we all knew that the bike will be lost in the many a narrow lanes of the village and even if we are able to catch the people on the bike we would not have the evidence that they are the wood fellers as the logs were on the tractor.

As with some kind on Marco polan instinct, I told our driver to turn right into a road which was nonexistent at that time, but I knew that the tractor had turned right and it had to be there.

And as we turned, we saw people jumping out from the tractor which had come to an abrupt stop and running as if their lives was on stake. We too jumped out even before our vehicle had come to a stop and ran towards the fleeing thieves.

But the local tribals who were supposedly on the tractor were so fast and fearless that even though it was pitch dark they made a sprint through a thick foliage of wild plantation and we were only able to catch a man who was wearing just a loin cloth.

The chase had finally come to an end. But a new situation was developing...as we found ourselves surrounded by the local tribals armed with lathis and axes.