Musings


A legend lives on

My Babuji! I grope for words, especially adjectives, to draw his pen portrait. Innocent, unassuming, intelligent, brave, pious, suave, simple, benevolent and farsighted are some of the words that rolled into one to make my Babuji, Kamind Kumar Pandey. Even his anguish would have a veneer of disarming smile. Click to continue reading…

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The Fraser road remains Mazaharul Haq Path. Once prestigious and busiest road of Bihar’ state capital, it is busier today, thanks the population boom. The same maddening crowds; same jostling and pushing! Some three decades or so ago this road was the main link between Patna junction and the steamer ghat at Mahendru. It also snaked its way to the historic Gandhi maidan. Click to continue reading …

I am a firm believer in the Almighty. Call Him Bhagawan, Allah, God or any other name, His is the supreme authority. You may name Him as Nature. He is omnipotent; He is omnipresent. No body can deny this hard fact. There is some power; super natural, who has created this universe and every thing that exists on it. What ever Himalayan heights human-being or science might have achieved, no cloning is possible. His writ is impregnable. He is invincible. Click to continue reading …

Whenever I visit my village Munshi Premchand’s famous story comes vivid in my mind. The immortal novelist had lost his ‘paradise’, when he revisited the holiest of holy cities, Varanashi. To relive the olden days, the hero of his short story had a wee hour jaunt in the city, believed to be resting on the trident of Lord Shiva. There were few early hour bathers in the Ganga. Nor was the sky renting with devotional chorus sung by hordes of Ganga bathers, ‘hamare prabhu awagun jeet na dharo’ (O Lord! don’t take my follies into your heart). Click to continue reading …

    My two grand sons, six and three years of age, are in giggles. They are floating paper boats in their bed room. They are happy. They wade in water inside the house. The elder one splashes some water on the younger one. He cries. Soon a fight ensues. Both fall down in the water, some 12 inches deep and are drenched. Her mother comes rushing and chides-cajoles them. Clothes are changed. The clock ticks by. An hour later the scene is repeated. The paper boats float, water splash flies and the duel begins ending in drenching. The angry-looking mom laughs in her sleeves. Her utensils too are floating in the mod kitchen. She up-rolls her ‘sari’ and cooks the meal. This has been her routine for the last four days (on June 16, 2008). Click to continue reading …